People with no morals often considered themselves more free, but mostly they lacked the ability to feel hate or love.
I count it happiness,Ere we go quickly thither whence we came,To gaze ungrieving on these majesties,The world-wide sun, the stars, water and clouds,and fire. Live, Parmeno, a hundred yearsOr a few months, these you will always seeand never, never, any greater things.Think of this life-time as a festivalOr visit to a strange city, full of noise,Buying and selling, thieving, dicing stallsAnd joy parks. If you leave it early, friend,Why, think you have gone to find a better inn:You have paid your fare and leave no enemies.
You embody all that I was ever able to concieve of beauty and fearlessness and strange purity. Therefore it is evident I do not see in you merely Count Emmerick's third sister, but, instead, that ageless lovable and loving woman long worshipped and sought everywhere in vain by all poets.