You’ve lived as a citizen in a great city. Five years or a hundred—what’s the difference? The laws make no distinction. And to be sent away from it, not by a tyrant or a dishonest judge, but by Nature, who first invited you in—why is that so terrible? Like the impresario ringing down the curtain on an actor: “But I’ve only gotten through three acts …!” Yes. This will be a drama in three acts, the length fixed by the power that directed your creation, and now directs your dissolution. Neither was yours to determine. So make your exit with grace—the same grace shown to you.
Last lines. Poignant
Like a child who got chocolate they didn’t ask for, who then asks for more. Take what you are given, and make the most of it, not greedily thinking you deserve more or never eating it because you are afraid it will end. Mixing metaphors, but it’s like Pappy. Drink the bourbon
