Letter 9

You want to know whether Epicurus was right, in one of his letters, to criticize those who say that the wise person is content with himself and therefore has no need of a friend. Epicurus raises this objection against Stilbo, and against those who think the highest good is a mind beyond suffering. We fall into ambiguity if we try to express the Greek word too quickly with a single Latin word. If we render it as "impatience," people may understand the opposite of what we mean. We want to describe a mind that rejects every sensation of evil; they may take it as a mind unable to endure any evil. Consider, then, whether it is better to speak of an invulnerable mind, or a mind placed beyond all suffering. Here is the difference between us and that school: our wise person conquers every hardship, but feels it; theirs does not even feel it. We and they hold this in common, that the wise person is self-sufficient. Yet he still wants a friend, a neighbor, and a companion, even though he is enough for himself. See how enough for himself he is: sometimes he is content with only part of himself. If disease or war takes off his hand, if accident puts out one eye or both, what remains will satisfy him, and he will be as cheerful in a diminished and maimed body as he was in a whole one. But though he does not long for what is missing, he would rather not be missing it. So the wise person is self-sufficient not because he wants to be without a friend, but because he can be. And when I say "can," I mean that he bears the loss of a friend with an even mind. In fact, he will never be without a friend; it is in his own power how quickly he replaces one. Just as Phidias, if he lost a statue, could immediately make another, so the master artist of friendship will put another friend in the place of the one he lost. You ask how he will make a friend quickly. I will tell you, provided we agree that I may pay you what I owe at once and balance the account for this letter. Hecato says: "I will show you a love charm without drug, herb, or witch's song: if you want to be loved, love." There is great pleasure not only in the use of an old and certain friendship, but also in the beginning and acquiring of a new one. The difference between someone who has gained a friend and someone who is gaining one is like the difference between the farmer who harvests and the farmer who sows. The philosopher Attalus used to say that it is more pleasant to make a friend than to have one, just as it is more pleasant for an artist to paint than to have painted. The concern that is absorbed in its own work has enormous delight in that absorption itself. The person who has taken his hand from the finished work is not delighted in the same way. He now enjoys the fruit of his art; while painting, he enjoyed the art itself. Our children give more abundant fruit when they become young adults, but their infancy was sweeter. Let us return to the question. The wise person, though self-sufficient, still wants a friend, if only to practice friendship, so that so great a virtue does not lie idle. He does not want one for the reason Epicurus gives in that letter: "so there may be someone to sit by him when he is ill, or help him when he is in prison or in need." Rather, he wants someone by whose sickbed he himself may sit, someone whom he himself may free when held captive by hostile hands. Whoever looks only to himself and enters friendship for his own advantage is thinking wrongly. The end matches the beginning. A person who made a friend because that friend might help him out of chains will desert him at the first rattle of chains. These are the so-called fair-weather friendships. Someone chosen for usefulness will be pleasing only as long as he is useful. That is why prosperous people are surrounded by crowds of friends, while those who have fallen stand in vast loneliness; their friends flee the very moment by which friendship is tested. That is why there are so many shameful examples of people who desert through fear or betray through fear. The beginning and the end must agree. Whoever begins to be your friend because it is profitable will also stop because it is profitable. If anything in friendship attracts him other than friendship itself, he will be attracted by some reward offered in exchange for it. For what purpose, then, do I make someone my friend? So that I may have someone for whom I can die, someone I can follow into exile, someone whose death I can oppose by risking my own life and paying the pledge. The friendship you describe is a bargain, not a friendship. It looks to convenience and watches for results. There is, beyond question, something in a lover's feeling that resembles friendship; you could call it friendship gone mad. Yet does anyone love for profit, advancement, or fame? Pure love, careless of every other thing, kindles the soul with desire for the beautiful object, not without hope of returned affection. What then? Can a more honorable cause produce a shameful passion? "But," you say, "we are not now asking whether friendship should be cultivated for its own sake." On the contrary, nothing more needs to be proven. If friendship is to be sought for its own sake, then the self-sufficient person may seek it. "How, then, does he seek it?" As he seeks something beautiful, not drawn by gain and not frightened by the instability of Fortune. Whoever seeks friendship for favorable circumstances strips it of all its nobility. "The wise person is self-sufficient." Many people explain this badly, my dear Lucilius. They remove the wise person from the world and force him to live inside his own skin. But we must mark carefully what this sentence means and how far it applies. The wise person is sufficient for himself for a happy life, but not for life itself. For life itself he needs many helps; for a happy life he needs only a sound, upright mind that despises Fortune. I also want to give you Chrysippus' distinction. He says that the wise person lacks nothing, and yet needs many things. "By contrast," he says, "the fool needs nothing, because he does not know how to use anything; but he lacks everything." The wise person needs hands, eyes, and many things necessary for daily use; but he lacks nothing. Lack implies necessity, and nothing is necessary to the wise person. Therefore, although he is self-sufficient, he still needs friends. He wants as many as possible, but not so that he may live happily, for he will live happily even without friends. The highest good does not seek tools from outside itself. It is cultivated at home; it rises wholly from itself. If it begins to seek any part of itself from outside, it begins to be subject to Fortune. "But what kind of life will the wise person have," people ask, "if he is left without friends, thrown into prison, abandoned among foreigners, delayed on a long voyage, or cast onto a lonely shore?" Such a life as Jupiter has when the universe is dissolved, when the gods are mingled into one and nature rests for a while from its work: he withdraws into himself and gives himself over to his own thoughts. The sage does something like this. He withdraws into himself and lives with himself. So long as he is allowed to arrange his affairs according to his judgment, he is self-sufficient and marries; he is self-sufficient and raises children; he is self-sufficient and yet could not live if he had to live without human society. Natural impulse, not personal need, draws him into friendship. Just as there is an inborn charm in other things, there is one in friendship. As we hate solitude and seek society, as nature draws human beings to one another, so here too there is an attraction that makes us desire friendship. Nevertheless, though the sage loves his friends deeply, often compares them with himself, and may even put them before himself, he will still set the whole of his good within himself. He will say what Stilbo himself said, the very man whom Epicurus attacks in his letter. After his city had been captured and his children and wife lost, Stilbo came out from the general destruction alone and yet happy. Demetrius, called the City-taker because of the destruction he brought on cities, asked him whether he had lost anything. Stilbo answered, "I have all my goods with me." There is a brave and strong man. The enemy conquered, but he conquered his conqueror. "I have lost nothing," he said; he forced Demetrius to wonder whether Demetrius himself had conquered anything. "All my goods are with me": that is, he judged nothing that could be taken away to be a good. We marvel at certain animals because they pass through fire without bodily harm. How much more marvelous is the person who has gone through fire, sword, and devastation unharmed and uninjured! Do you see how much easier it is to conquer a whole people than one person? This saying of Stilbo belongs also to Stoicism: the Stoic too carries his goods intact through burned cities. He is self-sufficient. These are the limits he sets for his happiness. But do not think that only our school can speak noble words. Epicurus himself, the critic of Stilbo, uttered something very similar. Count it to my credit, even though I have already cleared today's debt. "Anyone," he says, "who does not think his own possessions are most abundant is miserable, even if he is master of the whole world." Or, if this wording seems better to you, since we should serve meanings rather than words: "A person is miserable if he does not judge himself supremely happy, even though he commands the world." To show you that these ideas are common, dictated by nature, you will find this line in a comic poet: No one is happy who does not think himself happy. What does your condition matter, if it seems bad to you? "What then?" you ask. "If that man, disgracefully rich, or that other man, master of many but slave of more, says he is happy, will his own opinion make him happy?" What matters is not what he says, but what he feels; and not what he feels on one particular day, but what he feels steadily. There is no reason to fear that so great a possession will fall to someone unworthy. Only the wise person is pleased with what is his. All foolishness is troubled by weariness of itself. Farewell.

You desire to know whether Epicurus is right when, in one of his letters, he rebukes those who hold that the wise man is self-sufficient and for that reason does not stand in need of friendships. This is the objection raised by Epicurus against Stilbo and those who believe that the Supreme Good is a soul which is insensible to feeling. We are bound to meet with a double meaning if we try to express the Greek term "lack of feeling" summarily, in a single word, rendering it by the Latin word impatientia. For it may be understood in the meaning the opposite to that which we wish it to have. What we mean to express is, a soul which rejects any sensation of evil; but people will interpret the idea as that of a soul which can endure no evil. Consider, therefore, whether it is not better to say “a soul that cannot be harmed,” or “a soul entirely beyond the realm of suffering.” There is this difference between ourselves and the other school: our ideal wise man feels his troubles, but overcomes them; their wise man does not even feel them. But we and they alike hold this idea,—that the wise man is self-sufficient. Nevertheless, he desires friends, neighbours, and associates, no matter how much he is sufficient unto himself. And mark how self-sufficient he is; for on occasion he can be content with a part of himself. If he lose a hand through disease or war, or if some accident puts out one or both of his eyes, he will be satisfied with what is left, taking as much pleasure in his impaired and maimed body as he took when it was sound. But while he does not pine for these parts if they are missing, he prefers not to lose them. In this sense the wise man is self-sufficient, that he can do without friends, not that he desires to do without them. When I say “can,” I mean this: he endures the loss of a friend with equanimity. But he need never lack friends, for it lies in his own control how soon he shall make good a loss. Just as Phidias, if he lose a statue, can straightway carve another, even so our master in the art of making friendships can fill the place of a friend he has lost. If you ask how one can make oneself a friend quickly, I will tell you, provided we are agreed that I may pay my debt at once and square the account, so far as this letter is concerned. Hecato, says: “I can show you a philtre, compounded without drugs, herbs, or any witch’s incantation: ‘If you would be loved, love.’” Now there is great pleasure, not only in maintaining old and established friendships, but also in beginning and acquiring new ones. There is the same difference between winning a new friend and having already won him, as there is between the farmer who sows and the farmer who reaps. The philosopher Attalus used to say: “It is more pleasant to make than to keep a friend, as it is more pleasant to the artist to paint than to have finished painting.” When one is busy and absorbed in one’s work, the very absorption affords great delight; but when one has withdrawn one’s hand from the completed masterpiece, the pleasure is not so keen. Henceforth it is the fruits of his art that he enjoys; it was the art itself that he enjoyed while he was painting. In the case of our children, their young manhood yields the more abundant fruits, but their infancy was sweeter. Let us now return to the question. The wise man, I say, self-sufficient though he be, nevertheless desires friends if only for the purpose of practising friendship, in order that his noble qualities may not lie dormant. Not, however, for the purpose mentioned by Epicurus in the letter quoted above: “That there may be someone to sit by him when he is ill, to help him when he is in prison or in want;” but that he may have someone by whose sick-bed he himself may sit, someone a prisoner in hostile hands whom he himself may set free. He who regards himself only, and enters upon friendships for this reason, reckons wrongly. The end will be like the beginning: he has made friends with one who might assist him out of bondage; at the first rattle of the chain such a friend will desert him. These are the so-called “fair-weather” friendships; one who is chosen for the sake of utility will be satisfactory only so long as he is useful. Hence prosperous men are blockaded by troops of friends; but those who have failed stand amid vast loneliness, their friends fleeing from the very crisis which is to test their worth. Hence, also, we notice those many shameful cases of persons who, through fear, desert or betray. The beginning and the end cannot but harmonize. He who begins to be your friend because it pays will also cease because it pays. A man will be attracted by some reward offered in exchange for his friendship, if he be attracted by aught in friendship other than friendship itself. For what purpose, then, do I make a man my friend? In order to have someone for whom I may die, whom I may follow into exile, against whose death I may stake my own life, and pay the pledge, too. The friendship which you portray is a bargain and not a friendship; it regards convenience only, and looks to the results. Beyond question the feeling of a lover has in it something akin to friendship; one might call it friendship run mad. But, though this is true, does anyone love for the sake of gain, or promotion, or renown? Pure love, careless of all other things, kindles the soul with desire for the beautiful object, not without the hope of a return of the affection. What then? Can a cause which is more honourable produce a passion that is base? You may retort: “We are not now discussing the question whether friendship is to be cultivated for its own sake.” On the contrary, nothing more urgently requires demonstration; for if friendship is to be sought for its own sake, he may seek it who is self-sufficient. “How, then,” you ask, “does he seek it?” Precisely as he seeks an object of great beauty, not attracted to it by desire for gain, nor yet frightened by the instability of Fortune. One who seeks friendship for favourable occasions, strips it of all its nobility. “The wise man is self-sufficient.” This phrase, my dear Lucilius, is incorrectly explained by many; for they withdraw the wise man from the world, and force him to dwell within his own skin. But we must mark with care what this sentence signifies and how far it applies; the wise man is sufficient unto himself for a happy existence, but not for mere existence. For he needs many helps towards mere existence; but for a happy existence he needs only a sound and upright soul, one that despises Fortune. I should like also to state to you one of the distinctions of Chrysippus, who declares that the wise man is in want of nothing, and yet needs many things. “On the other hand,” he says, “nothing is needed by the fool, for he does not understand how to use anything, but he is in want of everything.” The wise man needs hands, eyes, and many things that are necessary for his daily use; but he is in want of nothing. For want implies a necessity, and nothing is necessary to the wise man. Therefore, although he is self-sufficient, yet he has need of friends. He craves as many friends as possible, not, however, that he may live happily; for he will live happily even without friends. The Supreme Good calls for no practical aids from outside; it is developed at home, and arises entirely within itself. If the good seeks any portion of itself from without, it begins to be subject to the play of Fortune. People may say: “But what sort of existence will the wise man have, if he be left friendless when thrown into prison, or when stranded in some foreign nation, or when delayed on a long voyage, or when cast upon a lonely shore?” His life will be like that of Jupiter, who, amid the dissolution of the world, when the gods are confounded together and Nature rests for a space from her work, can retire into himself and give himself over to his own thoughts. In some such way as this the sage will act; he will retreat into himself, and live with himself. As long as he is allowed to order his affairs according to his judgment, he is self-sufficient—and marries a wife; he is self-sufficient—and brings up children; he is self-sufficient—and yet could not live if he had to live without the society of man. Natural promptings, and not his own selfish needs, draw him into friendships. For just as other things have for us an inherent attractiveness, so has friendship. As we hate solitude and crave society, as nature draws men to each other, so in this matter also there is an attraction which makes us desirous of friendship. Nevertheless, though the sage may love his friends dearly, often comparing them with himself, and putting them ahead of himself, yet all the good will be limited to his own being, and he will speak the words which were spoken by the very Stilbo whom Epicurus criticizes in his letter. For Stilbo, after his country was captured and his children and his wife lost, as he emerged from the general desolation alone and yet happy, spoke as follows to Demetrius, called Sacker of Cities because of the destruction he brought upon them, in answer to the question whether he had lost anything: “I have all my goods with me!” There is a brave and stout-hearted man for you! The enemy conquered, but Stilbo conquered his conqueror. “I have lost nothing!” Aye, he forced Demetrius to wonder whether he himself had conquered after all. “My goods are all all with me!” In other words, he deemed nothing that might be taken from him to be a good. We marvel at certain animals because they can pass through fire and suffer no bodily harm; but how much more marvellous is a man who has marched forth unhurt and unscathed through fire and sword and devastation! Do you understand now how much easier it is to conquer a whole tribe than to conquer one man? This saying of Stilbo makes common ground with Stoicism; the Stoic also can carry his goods unimpaired through cities that have been burned to ashes; for he is self-sufficient. Such are the bounds which he sets to his own happiness. But you must not think that our school alone can utter noble words; Epicurus himself, the reviler of Stilbo, spoke similar language; put it down to my credit, though I have already wiped out my debt for the present day. He says: “Whoever does not regard what he has as most ample wealth, is unhappy, though he be master of the whole world.” Or, if the following seems to you a more suitable phrase,—for we must try to render the meaning and not the mere words: “A man may rule the world and still be unhappy, if he does not feel that he is supremely happy.” In order, however, that you may know that these sentiments are universal, suggested, of course, by Nature, you will find in one of the comic poets this verse: Unblest is he who thinks himself unblest. For what does your condition matter, if it is bad in your own eyes? You may say: “What then? If yonder man, rich by base means, and yonder man, lord of many but slave of more, shall call themselves happy, will their own opinion make them happy?” It matters not what one says, but what one feels; also, not how one feels on one particular day, but how one feels at all times. There is no reason, however, why you should fear that this great privilege will fall into unworthy hands; only the wise man is pleased with his own. Folly is ever troubled with weariness of itself. Farewell.

[1] An merito reprehendat in quadam epistula Epicurus eos qui dicunt sapientem se ipso esse contentum et propter hoc amico non indigere, desideras scire. Hoc obicitur Stilboni ab Epicuro et iis quibus summum bonum visum est animus in patiens. [2] In ambiguitatem incidendum est, si exprimere 'ap‡theian« uno verbo cito voluerimus et impatientiam dicere; poterit enim contrarium ei quod significare volumus intellegi. Nos eum volumus dicere qui respuat omnis mali sensum: accipietur is qui nullum ferre possit malum. Vide ergo num satius sit aut invulnerabilem animum dicere aut animum extra omnem patientiam positum. [3] Hoc inter nos et illos interest: noster sapiens vincit quidem incommodum omne sed sentit, illorum ne sentit quidem. Illud nobis et illis commune est, sapientem se ipso esse contentum. Sed tamen et amicum habere vult et vicinum et contubernalem, quamvis sibi ipse sufficiat. [4] Vide quam sit se contentus: aliquando sui parte contentus est. Si illi manum aut morbus aut hostis exciderit, si quis oculum vel oculos casus excusserit, reliquiae illi suae satisfacient et erit imminuto corpore et amputato tam laetus quam [in] integro fuit; sed <si> quae sibi desunt non desiderat, non deesse mavult. [5] Ita sapiens se contentus est, non ut velit esse sine amico sed ut possit; et hoc quod dico 'possit' tale est: amissum aequo animo fert. Sine amico quidem numquam erit: in sua potestate habet quam cito reparet. Quomodo si perdiderit Phidias statuam protinus alteram faciet, sic hic faciendarum amicitiarum artifex substituet alium in locum amissi. [6] Quaeris quomodo amicum cito facturus sit? Dicam, si illud mihi tecum convenerit, ut statim tibi solvam quod debeo et quantum ad hanc epistulam paria faciamus. Hecaton ait, 'ego tibi monstrabo amatorium sine medicamento, sine herba, sine ullius veneficae carmine: si vis amari, ama'. Habet autem non tantum usus amicitiae veteris et certae magnam voluptatem sed etiam initium et comparatio novae. [7] Quod interest inter metentem agricolam et serentem, hoc inter eum qui amicum paravit et qui parat. Attalus philosophus dicere solebat iucundius esse amicum facere quam habere, 'quomodo artifici iucundius pingere est quam pinxisse'. Illa in opere suo occupata sollicitudo ingens oblectamentum habet in ipsa occupatione: non aeque delectatur qui ab opere perfecto removit manum. Iam fructu artis suae fruitur: ipsa fruebatur arte cum pingeret. Fructuosior est adulescentia liberorum, sed infantia dulcior. [8] Nunc ad propositum revertamur. Sapiens etiam si contentus est se, tamen habere amicum vult, si nihil aliud, ut exerceat amicitiam, ne tam magna virtus iaceat, non ad hoc quod dicebat Epicurus in hac ipsa epistula, 'ut habeat qui sibi aegro assideat, succurrat in vincula coniecto vel inopi', sed ut habeat aliquem cui ipse aegro assideat, quem ipse circumventum hostili custodia liberet. Qui se spectat et propter hoc ad amicitiam venit male cogitat. Quemadmodum coepit, sic desinet: paravit amicum adversum vincla laturum opem; cum primum crepuerit catena, discedet. [9] Hae sunt amicitiae quas temporarias populus appellat; qui utilitatis causa assumptus est tamdiu placebit quamdiu utilis fuerit. Hac re florentes amicorum turba circumsedet, circa eversos solitudo est, et inde amici fugiunt ubi probantur; hac re ista tot nefaria exempla sunt aliorum metu relinquentium, aliorum metu prodentium. Necesse est initia inter se et exitus congruant: qui amicus esse coepit quia expedit <et desinet quia expedit>; placebit aliquod pretium contra amicitiam, si ullum in illa placet praeter ipsam. [10] 'In quid amicum paras?' Ut habeam pro quo mori possim, ut habeam quem in exsilium sequar, cuius me morti et opponam et impendam: ista quam tu describis negotiatio est, non amicitia, quae ad commodum accedit, quae quid consecutura sit spectat. [11] Non dubie habet aliquid simile amicitiae affectus amantium; possis dicere illam esse insanam amicitiam. Numquid ergo quisquam amat lucri causa? numquid ambitionis aut gloriae? Ipse per se amor, omnium aliarum rerum neglegens, animos in cupiditatem formae non sine spe mutuae caritatis accendit. Quid ergo? ex honestiore causa coit turpis affectus? [12] 'Non agitur' inquis 'nunc de hoc, an amicitia propter se ipsam appetenda sit.' Immo vero nihil magis probandum est; nam si propter se ipsam expetenda est, potest ad illam accedere qui se ipso contentus est. 'Quomodo ergo ad illam accedit?' Quomodo ad rem pulcherrimam, non lucro captus nec varietate fortunae perterritus; detrahit amicitiae maiestatem suam qui illam parat ad bonos casus. [13] 'Se contentus est sapiens.' Hoc, mi Lucili, plerique perperam interpretantur: sapientem undique submovent et intra cutem suam cogunt. Distinguendum autem est quid et quatenus vox ista promittat: se contentus est sapiens ad beate vivendum, non ad vivendum; ad hoc enim multis illi rebus opus est, ad illud tantum animo sano et erecto et despiciente fortunam. [14] Volo tibi Chrysippi quoque distinctionem indicare. Ait sapientem nulla re egere, et tamen multis illi rebus opus esse: 'contra stulto nulla re opus est - nulla enim re uti scit - sed omnibus eget'. Sapienti et manibus et oculis et multis ad cotidianum usum necessariis opus est, eget nulla re; egere enim necessitatis est, nihil necesse sapienti est. [15] Ergo quamvis se ipso contentus sit, amicis illi opus est; hos cupit habere quam plurimos, non ut beate vivat; vivet enim etiam sine amicis beate. Summum bonum extrinsecus instrumenta non quaerit; domi colitur, ex se totum est; incipit fortunae esse subiectum si quam partem sui foris quaerit. [16] 'Qualis tamen futura est vita sapientis, si sine amicis relinquatur in custodiam coniectus vel in aliqua gente aliena destitutus vel in navigatione longa retentus aut in desertum litus eiectus?' Qualis est Iovis, cum resoluto mundo et dis in unum confusis paulisper cessante natura acquiescit sibi cogitationibus suis traditus. Tale quiddam sapiens facit: in se reconditur, secum est. [17] Quamdiu quidem illi licet suo arbitrio res suas ordinare, se contentus est et ducit uxorem; se contentus <est> et liberos tollit; se contentus est et tamen non viveret si foret sine homine victurus. Ad amicitiam fert illum nulla utilitas sua, sed naturalis irritatio; nam ut aliarum nobis rerum innata dulcedo est, sic amicitiae. Quomodo solitudinis odium est et appetitio societatis, quomodo hominem homini natura conciliat, sic inest huic quoque rei stimulus qui nos amicitiarum appetentes faciat. [18] Nihilominus cum sit amicorum amantissimus, cum illos sibi comparet, saepe praeferat, omne intra se bonum terminabit et dicet quod Stilbon ille dixit, Stilbon quem Epicuri epistula insequitur. Hic enim capta patria, amissis liberis, amissa uxore, cum ex incendio publico solus et tamen beatus exiret, interroganti Demetrio, cui cognomen ab exitio urbium Poliorcetes fuit, num quid perdidisset, 'omnia' inquit 'bona mea mecum sunt'. [19] Ecce vir fortis ac strenuus! ipsam hostis sui victoriam vicit. 'Nihil' inquit 'perdidi': dubitare illum coegit an vicisset. 'Omnia mea mecum sunt': iustitia, virtus, prudentia, hoc ipsum, nihil bonum putare quod eripi possit. Miramur animalia quaedam quae per medios ignes sine noxa corporum transeunt: quanto hic mirabilior vir qui per ferrum et ruinas et ignes inlaesus et indemnis evasit! Vides quanto facilius sit totam gentem quam unum virum vincere? Haec vox illi communis est cum Stoico: aeque et hic intacta bona per concrematas urbes fert; se enim ipse contentus est; hoc felicitatem suam fine designat. [20] Ne existimes nos solos generosa verba iactare, et ipse Stilbonis obiurgator Epicurus similem illi vocem emisit, quam tu boni consule, etiam si hunc diem iam expunxi. 'Si cui' inquit 'sua non videntur amplissima, licet totius mundi dominus sit, tamen miser est.' Vel si hoc modo tibi melius enuntiari videtur - id enim agendum est ut non verbis serviamus sed sensibus -, 'miser est qui se non beatissimum iudicat, licet imperet mundo'. [21] Ut scias autem hos sensus esse communes, natura scilicet dictante, apud poetam comicum invenies: non est beatus, esse se qui non putat. Quid enim refert qualis status tuus sit, si tibi videtur malus ' [22] 'Quid ergo?' inquis 'si beatum se dixerit ille turpiter dives et ille multorum dominus sed plurium servus, beatus sua sententia fiet?' Non quid dicat sed quid sentiat refert, nec quid uno die sentiat, sed quid assidue. Non est autem quod verearis ne ad indignum res tanta perveniat: nisi sapienti sua non placent; omnis stultitia laborat fastidio sui. Vale.