And then its strong simplicity, so
masculine and unemotional, was grateful to one now finally dismated, and
so cruelly handled as to have, it seemed, no use for a heart any more.
Better let feeling die than be betrayed by diffidence into the denial of
its true allegiance, or into expressions of the inner life false and wry
as the strange laughter which the doomed suitors in Ithaca could not
control. Though it stifled feeling, the creed of Cleanthes exalted the
intellect, which was all that now remained to me unimpaired; surely it
was the appointed rule for one henceforth to be severed from the
passions and enthusiasms through which humanity errs and is happy.

"The world," the wise Stoic seemed to say, "is twofold in its nature.
Some things may be changed by man, others are by his utmost effort
immutable. God has implanted in you a right reason by which, when it is
well trained, you can infallibly distinguish between the two, avoiding
thus all unworthy fretfulness and all idle kicking against the pricks.
Therefore he has made you for happiness; for the joy of men is an
achievement; and their misery in the coveting of the unattainable end.
If you would fulfil his benevolent design, seek only what has been
placed in your power, frankly resigning all that lies beyond; but be
ever difficult in renunciation; test and sound well every issue, lest
you leave a permitted good undone, than which nothing is a greater sin.
To be loyal, to be contented, to acquiesce in all things save only in
ameliorable evil, this is to live according to nature, which is God's
administration. If you are assiduous in careful choosing, you will learn
at last to make a right use of every event; you will be harassed no
more by vain desire or unreasoning aversion, but will become God's
coadjutor and be always of his mind. So, when external things have
ceased to trouble your spirit, you will no longer be a competitor for
vanities; but, enfranchised from all solicitude, you will have discarded
envy and conceit and intolerance, which are the ill fruits of that vain
rivalry. You will neither cringe before power nor covet great place, for
alike from inordinate affection and from the fear of pain or death you
will be free. Disenamoured of mundane things, you will live simply and
unperturbed, in kindness and cheerfulness and in gratitude to
Providence. Life will be to you as a feast or solemnity, and when it
comes to a close, you will rise up saying, 'I have be