Plain
Seneca — The Senator

Can someone who gets upset by the sound of a bench scraping on the floor really handle the harsh words of political fights? Can they deal with the insults that politicians throw at each other in courts and government meetings? If you get angry at your servant for making your drink wrong, how will you handle real hunger or thirst on a long summer march? Nothing feeds anger more than soft, spoiled living. Your mind needs to be toughened by hardship so that only serious blows can hurt you.

On Anger, Book 2, Section 25 Book 2 · 62 of 103
Facing Hardship Knowing Yourself
Seneca — The Senator Original

Will one whose ears are agonised by the noise of a bench being dragged along the floor be able to endure with unruffled mind the rude language of party strife, and the abuse which speakers in the forum or the senate house heap upon their opponents? Will he who is angry with his slave for icing his drink badly, be able to endure hunger, or the thirst of a long march in summer? Nothing, therefore, nourishes anger more than excessive and dissatisfied luxury: the mind ought to be hardened by rough treatment, so as not to feel any blow that is not severe.

On Anger, Book 2, Section 25 Book 2 · 62 of 103
Seneca — The Senator

There was a man named Mindyrides from the city of Sybaris. One day he saw someone digging with a heavy tool and working hard. The sight tired him out so much that he told the worker to stop — at least where Mindyrides could see him. This same man once complained that he couldn't sleep because the rose petals in his bed were folded the wrong way. When pleasure corrupts both your body and mind, nothing feels bearable. Not because life is actually hard, but because you've made yourself soft. Why should anyone fly into a rage over someone coughing or sneezing? Or over a fly that wasn't shooed away fast enough? Or a dog hanging around, or a servant dropping a key?

On Anger, Book 2, Section 25 Book 2 · 61 of 103
Facing Hardship Human Nature
Seneca — The Senator Original

It is said that there was one Mindyrides, a citizen of Sybaris, who one day seeing a man digging and vigorously brandishing a mattock, complained that the sight made him weary, and forbade the man to work where he could see him. The same man complained that he had suffered from the rose-leaves upon which he lay being folded double. When pleasures have corrupted both the body and the mind, nothing seems endurable, not indeed because it is hard, but because he who has to bear it is soft: for why should we be driven to frenzy by any one's coughing and sneezing, or by a fly not being driven away with sufficient care, or by a dog's hanging about us, or a key dropping from a careless servant's hand?

On Anger, Book 2, Section 25 Book 2 · 61 of 103
‹ Previous Next ›

Ancient philosophy, in plain English.

About · Support