Retirement (n.) is a living burial without the love of letters.
Retirement (n.) can be mere hiding: Vatia knew how to hide, not how to live, and passing his villa one would say, "Here lies Vatia."
Retirement (n.) is no withdrawal from public life for the wise man, whose commonwealth is the universe: he has left one little corner of it for wider regions.
Retirement (n.) advertised is a crowd collected: withdraw to talk with yourself, not to have men talk about you.
Retirement (n.) hides you from nothing: the real causes of our anxieties follow us across the seas.
Retirement (n.) from public life should be a slow retreat, not a rout: one may have to yield, but with one's standards and military honour safe.