So what keeps you here? Physical things change and fall apart. Your senses are cloudy and often wrong. Your soul is just breath from blood. Being praised by people like this is empty. What are you waiting for then? Death or change — either one should find you calm and ready. But until that time comes, what will satisfy you? Only this: honor the gods and help people. Put up with others. Don't harm them. Remember that everything outside — this broken body, this life — none of it belongs to you. None of it is under your control.
What is it then that doth keep thee here, if things sensible be so mutable and unsettled? and the senses so obscure, and so fallible? and our souls nothing but an exhalation of blood? and to be in credit among such, be but vanity? What is it that thou dost stay for? an extinction, or a translation; either of them with a propitious and contented mind. But still that time come, what will content thee? what else, but to worship and praise the Gods; and to do good unto men. To bear with them, and to forbear to do them any wrong. And for all external things belonging either to this thy wretched body, or life, to remember that they are neither thine, nor in thy power.