The Body (n.) was never truly yours; it is cleverly shaped clay, and even Zeus admits he could not make it free.
The Body (n.) is a slave by nature — to fever, gout, a tyrant, fire and iron, anything stronger than itself — so freedom cannot be looked for there.
The Body (n.) is a poor overloaded donkey on loan: if a soldier requisitions it, let it go without grumbling, or you get a beating and lose the donkey anyway.
The Body (n.) is a horse placed in your care: wash it, wipe it, and keep it so that no one turns away from you.
The Body (n.) is by nature only clay; if nothing else teaches you that it is nothing, time will.
The Body (n.) is a sack I stuff and empty, and I tend it only because God set me here; when nature that gave it takes it back, let it go.
The Body (n.) should be dealt with in passing — exercise, eating, drinking, the toilet, sex; long hours spent on it betray a lack of talent.