17; Cicero, Tusc., v.

40.] In truth, in all things, if nature do not help a little, it is very hard for art and industry to perform anything to purpose.

I am in my own nature not melancholic, but meditative; and there is nothing I have more continually entertained myself withal than imaginations of death, even in the most wanton time of my age: "Jucundum quum aetas florida ver ageret." ["When my florid age rejoiced in pleasant spring." -- Catullus, lxviii.] In the company of ladies, and at games, some have perhaps thought me possessed with some jealousy, or the uncertainty of some hope, whilst I was entertaining myself with the remembrance of some one, surprised, a few days before, with a burning fever of which he died, returning from an entertainment like this, with his head full of idle fancies of love and jollity, as mine was then, and that, for aught I knew, the same-destiny was attending me.
"Jam fuerit, nec post unquam revocare licebit." ["Presently the present will have gone, never to be recalled." Lucretius, iii.

928.] Yet did not this thought wrinkle my forehead any more than any other.
It is impossible but we must feel a sting in such imaginations as these, at first; but with often turning and returning them in one's mind, they, at last, become so familiar as to be no trouble at all: otherwise, I, for my part, should be in a perpetual fright and frenzy; for never man was so distrustful of his life, never man so uncertain as to its duration.
Neither health, which I have hitherto ever enjoyed very strong and vigorous, and very seldom interrupted, does prolong, nor sickness contract my hopes.

Every minute, methinks, I am escaping, and it eternally runs in my mind, that what may be done to-morrow, may be done to-day.