Remind yourself that he whom you love is mortal—that what you love is not your own; it is given to you for the present, not irrevocably nor forever, but even as a fig or a bunch of grapes at the appointed season of the year. . . .
"But these are words of evil omen.". . .
What, do you call anything of evil omen except that which signifies some evil thing? Cowardice is a word of evil omen, if you will, and meanness of spirit, and lamentation and mourning, and shamelessness. . . .
But do not, I pray you, call of evil omen a word that signifies any natural thing—as well call of evil omen the reaping of the corn; for that means the destruction of the ears, though not of the World!—as well say that the fall of the leaf is of evil omen; that the dried fig should take the place of the green; that raisins should be made from grapes. All these are changes from a former state into another; not destruction, but an ordered economy, a fixed administration. Such is leaving home, a change of small account; such is Death, a greater change, from what now is, not to what is not, but to what is not now.
"Shall I then no longer be?"
Not so; you will be, but something different, of which the World now has need. For you too were born not when you chose, but when the World had need of you.
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