The Wall

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“What a dear old wall that is that runs along by the river there! I never pass it without feeling better for the sight of it. Such a mellow, bright, sweet old wall; what a charming picture it would make, with the lichen creeping here, and the moss growing there, a shy young vine peeping over the top at this spot, to see what is going on upon the busy river, and the sober old ivy clustering a little farther down! There are fifty shades and tints and hues in every ten yards of that old wall. . . . It looks so peaceful and so quiet, and it is such a dear old place to ramble round in the early morning before many people are about.” Jerome K. Jerome, “Three Men In A Boat (To Say Nothing of the Dog)” Ch. 6 (1889)

Stoicism and Asthma

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Springtime gives me no blooming choice. I'm convinced that allergies are like people: they exist to test your philosophy. 

"But I have been consigned, so to speak, to one special ailment. I do not know why I should call it by its Greek name; for it is well enough described as “shortness of breath.” Its attack is of very brief duration, like that of a squall at sea; it usually ends within an hour. Who indeed could breathe his last for long? I have passed through all the ills and dangers of the flesh, but nothing seems to me more troublesome than this. And naturally so; for anything else may be called illness, but this is a sort of continued “last gasp.” Hence physicians call it “practicing how to die.” (Seneca, Moral Letter 54, On Asthma and Death)

"If it’s endurable, then endure it. Stop complaining,” he said. “If it’s unendurable . . . then stop complaining." (Marcus Aurelius)

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