Now we are at the end of our tether, we see clearly enough that it has all been worse than vain; how good if we could unlearn it all, scatter the building of phantasmal knowledge in which we dwell so uncomfortably! It is too late.

The gods never take back their gifts; we wearied them with our prayers into granting us this one, and now they sit in the clouds and mock us." Ida looked, and kept silent; perhaps scarcely understood.
"People kill themselves in despair," Waymark went on, "that is, when they have drunk to the very dregs the cup of life's bitterness.

If they were wise, they would die at that moment--if it ever comes--when joy seems supreme and stable.

Life can give nothing further, and it has no more hellish misery than disillusion following upon delight." "Did you ever seriously think of killing yourself ?" Ida asked, gazing at him closely.
"Yes.

I have reached at times the point when I would not have moved a muscle to escape death, and from that it is not far to suicide.