Moral Letters to Lucilius

​Therefore the beginner and one who is proceeding toward the highest things, and a cultivator of virtue, even if he approaches the perfect good, but has not yet put the finishing hand to it, will go in the meantime backward and will relax something from the tension of his mind. For he has not yet crossed the uncertain ground; even now he is turned in a slippery place. But the happy man, and one of perfected virtue, then loves himself most when he has tested himself most bravely, and things to be feared by others, if they are the rewards of some honorable duty, he not only bears, but embraces, and much prefers to hear “so much the better” than “so much the luckier.”

​I come now to that point to which your expectation calls me. Lest our virtue should seem to wander outside the nature of things, the wise man too will tremble and will feel pain and will grow pale. For these are all sensations of the body. Where then is calamity, where is that true evil? There, of course, if those things drag down the mind, if they lead it to a confession of servitude, if they make it regretful of itself.

​Indeed, the wise man conquers fortune by virtue, but many who have professed wisdom have sometimes been terrified by the slightest threats. At this point is our fault, who demand the same thing from the wise man and from the one making progress. I still recommend to myself those things which I praise, but I do not yet persuade myself. Even if I had persuaded myself, I would not yet have them so ready or so practiced that they would run forward to meet all chances.

​Just as wool takes some colors at once, but does not drink in others unless it is frequently soaked and boiled again; so minds exhibit other disciplines immediately when they have received them, but this one of wisdom, unless it has descended deep and settled for a long time, and has not merely colored the mind but dyed it thoroughly, exhibits none of those things which it had promised.

​This can be delivered quickly and in very few words: that the only good is virtue, certainly none without virtue, and that virtue itself is placed in the better part of us, that is, the rational part. What will this virtue be? A true and immovable judgment. For from this will come the impulses of the mind, and by this every appearance that moves an impulse will be reduced to clarity.

​It will be consistent with this judgment to judge all things that have been touched by virtue to be both good and equal among themselves. But the goods of bodies are indeed goods for bodies, but they are not goods in the whole. These indeed will have some value, but they will not have dignity; they will differ by great intervals among themselves; some will be smaller, others larger.

​And we must confess that there are great differences among those who pursue wisdom themselves. One has already made so much progress that he dares to lift his eyes against fortune, but not persistently, for they fall back, dazzled by the excessive splendor; another has made so much progress that he can bring his face to bear with her, unless indeed he has already arrived at the summit and is full of confidence.

​Imperfect things must slide, and now go forward, now slip back or sink. And they will slip back unless they persevere in going and striving; if they relax anything of their zeal and faithful intention, they must go backward. No one finds progress where he had left it. Let us therefore press on and persevere.

​More remains than we have conquered, but a great part of progress is to wish to make progress. Of this thing I am conscious to myself; I wish it, and with my whole mind I wish it. I see that you also are inspired and are rushing with a great impulse toward the most beautiful things. Let us hasten; only thus in the end will life be a benefit. Otherwise, there is delay, and indeed a shameful one among those who busy themselves with sordid things. Let us act so that all our time may be ours. But it will not be ours, unless we first begin to be our own.

​When will it happen to despise both kinds of fortune, when will it happen, having crushed all passions and brought them under one’s own judgment, to utter this voice: “I have conquered”? Do you ask whom I have conquered? Not the Persians, nor the farthest Medes, nor whatever warlike people lies beyond the Dahae, but avarice, but ambition, but the fear of death, which has conquered the conquerors of nations. FAREWELL.