A person bitten by a mad dog becomes afraid of almost everything they see. In the same way, once true philosophy has made its mark on someone, almost everything they see or read—no matter how brief or ordinary—gives them a helpful reminder. It pulls them out of grief and fear. Like the poet said: 'The winds blow on the trees, and their leaves fall to the ground. Then the trees bud again, and by spring they grow new branches. This is how it is with people—some are born, others die.'
As he that is bitten by a mad dog, is afraid of everything almost that he seeth: so unto him, whom the dogmata have once bitten, or in whom true knowledge hath made an impression, everything almost that he sees or reads be it never so short or ordinary, doth afford a good memento; to put him out of all grief and fear, as that of the poet, 'The winds blow upon the trees, and their leaves fall upon the ground. Then do the trees begin to bud again, and by the spring-time they put forth new branches. So is the generation of men; some come into the world, and others go out of it.'