Security (n.) and contentment with life are, for most people who never become conscious of being spirit, forms of despair.
Security (n.) and tranquillity may be despair itself — or the peace of having overcome it; the symptom points both ways.
Security (n.) sought in the rich man's dovecote is a trap: the wood dove who sneaked in to be safe was shut in, caught, and killed the next day.
Security (n.) of the spirit is like a safe city where thefts are rare and small, just to keep in practice: the gravest thoughts only graze the soul, and one walks home at night untroubled.
Security (n.) is a more terrible monster than terror when one knows without having experienced: most harrowing is to know everything and not have made a start with the least thing — deceived by much knowledge.