Such is the Gentle, who swims blissfully in the broth of the putrefying Adder.

Others--and, by a strange irony of fate, these are generally the most gifted--only manage to eat by dint of craft and patience.
You are of their company, O my industrious Epeirae! So that you may dine, you spend your treasures of patience nightly; and often without result.

I sympathize with your woes, for I, who am as concerned as you about my daily bread, I also doggedly spread my net, the net for catching ideas, a more elusive and less substantial prize than the Moth.

Let us not lose heart.

The best part of life is not in the present, still less in the past; it lies in the future, the domain of hope.