أيامنا القادمة تقف أمامنا مثل صف من الشموع ذهبية ودافئة، ومفعمة بالحياة أيامنا الماضية تذوي خلفنا، صفاً من الشموع المحترقة، ... ما يزال الدخان ينبعث م… - Konstantinos P. Cavafy

As one long prepared, and graced with courage,
as is right for you who were given this kind of city,
go firmly to the window
and listen with deep emotion, but not
with the whining, the pleas of a coward;
listen — your final delectation — to the voices,
to the exquisite music of that strange procession,
and say goodbye to her, to the Alexandria you are losing.

What matters to Cavafy, and what so often gives his work both its profound sympathy and its rich irony, is the understanding, which as he knew so well comes too late to too many, that however fervently we may act in the dramas of our lives — emperors, lovers, magicians, scholars, pagans, Christians, catamites, stylites, artists, saints, poets — only time reveals whether the play is a tragedy or a comedy.

Guard, O my soul, against pomp and glory. And if you cannot curb your ambitions, at least pursue them hesitantly, cautiously. And the higher you go, the more searching and careful you need to be.