|Translator||H T Stewart|
|Publisher||Loeb Classical Library|
|My Copy||pocket-sized hardback, Loeb Library|
|First Read||February 24, 2006|
The Consolations of Philosophy
Re-reading this (it's been over a decade!) because I was in the mood for some Jesus-flavored stoicism. And boy: Boethius delivers.
Noted on March 15, 2016
Then, gazing keenly and directly on me, she said: “Are you the same man who was once nourished with my milk, once fed on my diet, till you reached your full manhood? And did I not furnish you with such weapons as would now keep you steadfast and safe if you had not thrown them away? Do you recognize me? Why do you say nothing? Were you silent because you were ashamed or stupeﬁed? I should like to think that you were ashamed, but I can see that you are quite stupeﬁed.” Seeing that I was not merely silent, but altogether speechless and dumb, she gently laid her hand on my breast and said: "He is in no real danger, but suffers only from lethargy, a sickness common to deluded minds. He has for a little forgotten his real self. He will soon recover—he did, after all, know me before—and to make this possible for him, let me for a little clear his eyes of the mist of mortal affairs that clouds them." And so saying she gathered her dress into a fold and dried my eyes, flowing as they were with tears.
Quoted on February 24, 2016
Nothing is miserable unless you think it so; and on the other hand, nothing brings happiness unless you are content with it.
Quoted on March 15, 2016