A poem by Lucretius

[YankeyMCC]

Each man flies from his own self;
Yet from that self in fact he has no power
To escape: he clings to it in his own despite,
And loathes it too, because, through he is sick,
He perceives not the cause of his disease:
Which if he could but comprehend aright,
Each would put all things else aside and first
Sudy to learn the nature of the world,
Since 'tis our state during eternal time,
Not for one hour merely, that is in doubt,
That state wherein mortals will have to pass
The whole time that awaits them after death.

Lucretius