No sooner were we deprived of the sweet life we had left behind than that life began to regale us with all its precious joys. Pushing its way through the branches of wild pine and terebinth, it slipped into our tents and danced beneath our heavy eyelids, hiding none of its lively charms. All these memories deposited a sediment of sorrow, a haze of sweet melancholy which enveloped us like incense and took the form of muted, affectionate expostulations directed toward all the beloved people and objects we had left behind when. stooped and pensive, we embarked upon the path singled out for us by fate and duty. O God, how much more love these people and objects owe us now! I say this to all you men, women, children and things, be you friend or foe, who are still able to enjoy tranquil homes and clean clothing and a comfortable bed and the myriad small pleasures of life, while we, like new-fledged monks, advance toward our destiny: toward a fate whose countenance is hidden behind an iron mask.
We proudly relinquished everything in order to protect your happiness by means of enormous sacrifice. If you were honest in recognising this fact you would be thinking about us constantly. We do not say this to you openly, but we say it with silent forcefulness because we desire it with all our hearts. We need and want your love all the more because we are so far away.
[Life in the Tomb, Myrivilis, S.]
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