>Two stumbling blocks equally dangerous will constantly present themselves to you. One of them would outrage the sacred rights of every individual. It is Misuse of the power which God will have entrusted to you; the other, which would bring ruin upon you, is Indiscretion. . . Both are born of the same mother, both owe their existence to pride.
>It is not for you, Philochatus, that I sketch this dreadful picture. The friend of humanity will never become its persecutor . . . The precipice, my son, which I fear for you, is Indiscretion, the imperious craving to inspire astonishment and admiration. God leaves to men the task of punishing the imprudent minister who permits the eye of the profane to look into the mysterious sanctuary. Oh Philochatus, may my sorrows be ever present in your mind. I, too, have known happiness, was showered with the blessings of heaven and surrounded by power such as the human mind cannot conceive. Commanding the genii that guide the world, happy in the happiness that I created, I enjoyed within the bosom of an adored family the felicity which the Eternal accords to His beloved children. One moment destroyed everything. I spoke, and it all vanished like a cloud. O my son, follow not in my steps . . . Let no vain desire to shine before men bring you, too, to disaster . . . Think of me, your friend, writing to you from this dungeon, my body broken by torture!
>Remember, Philochatus, that the hand which traces these characters bears the marks of the chains which weigh it down. God has punished me, but what have I done to the cruel men that persecute me? What right have they to interrogate the minister of the Eternal? They ask me what are the proofs of my mission. My witnesses are prodigies, and my virtues are my defenders—a clean life, a pure heart. But what am I saying! Have I still the right to complain? I spoke, and the Lord delivered me, deprived of strength and power, to the furies of greedy fanaticism. The arm which once could overthrow an army can today hardly lift the chains that weigh it down.
>Adieu, Philochatus! Do not mourn me. The clemency of the Eternal equals His justice. At the first mysterious assembly you will see your friend again. I salute you in the name of God. Soon I shall give the kiss of peace to my brother.
I don't agree with everything you've stated (artistic individuality: do not redirect the honors dued) but the sentiment indeed warmed me and incited me. Thank you friend. You write lucidly and with a caring hand.

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For Artists that can’t start