A man needn’t conquer circumstances, nor should he work to drive away the madness of silly emotions when they flutter across his chest and stomach like wild butterflies. Circumstances are recurring themes that enter through the doors of a house like passing guests in a highway inn, and if they be denied access by way of doors, they will enter by the windows, or through the cracks laid within the walls and floors. He will point his finger at everything around him, anxious to protect his illusion of security and calm. Yet if he only see himself for a solemn moment reflected through the piercing eyes of a mirror, with his arms outstretched like a clown, he may just realize then that it is he, himself, that need be conquered.