Plain
Seneca — The Senator

You poor thing! Why do you jump at the sound of a servant, or the clatter of metal, or a door slamming? No matter how refined you think you are, you still can't avoid hearing thunder. What I'm saying about your ears applies just as well to your eyes, if they've been badly trained to be picky. They get upset by stains and dirt, by silver that isn't polished enough, or by water in a pool that isn't crystal clear.

On Anger, Book 3, Section 35 Book 3 · 102 of 121
Knowing Yourself What Matters Most
Seneca — The Senator Original

Miserable one! why do you shudder at the noise of a slave, at the rattling of brass or the banging of a door? you cannot help hearing the thunder, however refined you may be. You may apply these remarks about your ears with equal truth to your eyes, which are just as dainty, if they have been badly schooled: they are shocked at stains and dirt, at silver plate which is not sufficiently bright, or at a pool whose water is not clear down to the bottom.

On Anger, Book 3, Section 35 Book 3 · 102 of 121
Seneca — The Senator

You get angry when your slave, freedman, wife, or client talks back to you. Then you complain that the state has lost its freedom — but you've destroyed freedom in your own house. Then if he stays quiet when you ask him something, you call it stubborn defiance. Let him speak and be silent and laugh too. "In front of his master?" you ask. No, say "in front of the head of the household." Why are you shouting? Why are you raging? Why do you call for a whip in the middle of dinner just because the slaves are talking? Why do you expect a crowd as big as a town meeting to be as quiet as the wilderness? You have ears for more than just listening to music — those soft, sweet, harmonious sounds. You should be able to hear laughter and crying, pleading and arguing, joy and sadness, human voices and the roars and barks of animals.

On Anger, Book 3, Section 35 Book 3 · 101 of 121
Human Nature Facing Hardship
Seneca — The Senator Original

You are indignant at being answered back by your slave, your freedman, your wife, or your client: and then you complain of the state having lost the freedom which you have destroyed in your own house: then again if he is silent when you question him, you call it sullen obstinacy. Let him both speak and be silent, and laugh too. "In the presence of his master?" you ask. Nay, say rather "in the presence of the house-father." Why do you shout? why do you storm? why do you in the middle of dinner call for a whip, because the slaves are talking, because a crowd as large as a public meeting is not as silent as the wilderness? You have ears, not merely that you may listen to musical sounds, softly and sweetly drawn out and harmonized: you ought to hear laughter and weeping, coaxing and quarrelling, joy and sorrow, the human voice and the roaring and barking of animals.

On Anger, Book 3, Section 35 Book 3 · 101 of 121
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Ancient philosophy, in plain English.

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