Letter 33: On the futility of learning maxims
You wish me to close these letters also, as I closed my former letters, with certain utterances taken from the chiefs of our school. But they did not interest themselves in choice extracts; the whole texture of their work is full of strength.
There is unevenness, you know, when some objects rise conspicuous above others. A single tree is not remarkable if the whole forest rises to the same height.
Poetry is crammed with utterances of this sort, and so is history. For this reason I would not have you think that these utterances belong to Epicurus: they are common property and are emphatically our own.
They are, however, more noteworthy in Epicurus, because they appear at infrequent intervals and when you do not expect them, and because it is surprising that brave words should be spoken at any time by a man who made a practice of being effeminate.
For that is what most persons maintain. In my own opinion, however, Epicurus is really a brave man, even though he did wear long sleeves. Fortitude, energy, and readiness for battle are to be found among the Persians, just as much as among men who have girded themselves up high.
You wish me to close these letters also, as I closed my former letters, with certain utterances taken from the chiefs of our school. But they did not interest themselves in choice extracts; the whole texture of their work is full of strength.
There is unevenness, you know, when some objects rise conspicuous above others. A single tree is not remarkable if the whole forest rises to the same height.
Poetry is crammed with utterances of this sort, and so is history. For this reason I would not have you think that these utterances belong to Epicurus: they are common property and are emphatically our own.
They are, however, more noteworthy in Epicurus, because they appear at infrequent intervals and when you do not expect them, and because it is surprising that brave words should be spoken at any time by a man who made a practice of being effeminate.
For that is what most persons maintain. In my own opinion, however, Epicurus is really a brave man, even though he did wear long sleeves. Fortitude, energy, and readiness for battle are to be found among the Persians, just as much as among men who have girded themselves up high.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 33
I was wondering how quickly the topic would come up! I noticed how Seneca was no longer including a quote from Epicurus at the end of each letter, and I suppose that Lucilius was asking for a continuation of the usual philosophical quick fix. Comfortable old habits can be hard to break, as I know very well from my childhood struggle to fall asleep without my favorite stuffed animal, Maus.
I am of two minds on the matter of memorable quotes, for sometimes I find them to be helpful signposts for more thorough accounts, while at other times I am inclined to use them as lazy substitutes for critical thinking. A reliance on platitudes, pithy sayings, and shrewd phrases can too often reveal a love of style over substance.
This unfortunate tendency seems even more common in the digital age, where words are cheap while attention spans become shorter. I was one of the first in my circle who had a revolving set of seemingly profound .sig files attached to my emails, though I eventually abandoned the practice when I realized I was merely being pompous. It is good to know, however, that the Romans were just as likely to abuse hackneyed citations.
I do appreciate Seneca’s observation that we shouldn’t grow attached to extraordinary bursts of insight, since it is far more important for the whole argument to be meaningful. I know plenty of writers who have come up with a few choice expressions, and are regularly praised for them, yet the thinkers who have truly changed my life are the ones where all the parts of their discussion are both engaging and essential to a deeper understanding.
I think it no accident, for example, that most any passage in Epictetus, Marcus Aurelius, or yes, also Seneca grabs my attention, and then immediately inspires me to explore the greater context. Sorry, but a witticism by Oscar Wilde, however amusing, has never managed to lead me beyond its own cleverness.
In other words, a single sentence will no longer appear to be exceptional when the entire work is of the highest quality. Once I feel the need to pick out the choice morsels, it says something about the mediocrity of whatever I am leaving behind. There is a world of difference between the one-hit wonder and the timeless legend of rock who belts out a masterpiece even on his worst days.
After all, if it happens to be true, it doesn’t matter who said it or how memorable it sounds. I imagine that Seneca was not regularly quoting Epicurus to glorify the source, but rather because these observations were so universal that even an opponent of the Stoics couldn’t help but embrace them. There is something remarkable when the staunchest of adversaries have to say to one another, “On this we can all agree!”
I could mock Epicurus as much as I like for being soft in his dependence on feelings, yet the fact remains that he practiced incredible courage and restraint. Let us look to what is common to everyone and everything that is good, not simply attend to one particular instance that catches our fancy. A narrow view is no substitute for a broader perspective.
I was wondering how quickly the topic would come up! I noticed how Seneca was no longer including a quote from Epicurus at the end of each letter, and I suppose that Lucilius was asking for a continuation of the usual philosophical quick fix. Comfortable old habits can be hard to break, as I know very well from my childhood struggle to fall asleep without my favorite stuffed animal, Maus.
I am of two minds on the matter of memorable quotes, for sometimes I find them to be helpful signposts for more thorough accounts, while at other times I am inclined to use them as lazy substitutes for critical thinking. A reliance on platitudes, pithy sayings, and shrewd phrases can too often reveal a love of style over substance.
This unfortunate tendency seems even more common in the digital age, where words are cheap while attention spans become shorter. I was one of the first in my circle who had a revolving set of seemingly profound .sig files attached to my emails, though I eventually abandoned the practice when I realized I was merely being pompous. It is good to know, however, that the Romans were just as likely to abuse hackneyed citations.
I do appreciate Seneca’s observation that we shouldn’t grow attached to extraordinary bursts of insight, since it is far more important for the whole argument to be meaningful. I know plenty of writers who have come up with a few choice expressions, and are regularly praised for them, yet the thinkers who have truly changed my life are the ones where all the parts of their discussion are both engaging and essential to a deeper understanding.
I think it no accident, for example, that most any passage in Epictetus, Marcus Aurelius, or yes, also Seneca grabs my attention, and then immediately inspires me to explore the greater context. Sorry, but a witticism by Oscar Wilde, however amusing, has never managed to lead me beyond its own cleverness.
In other words, a single sentence will no longer appear to be exceptional when the entire work is of the highest quality. Once I feel the need to pick out the choice morsels, it says something about the mediocrity of whatever I am leaving behind. There is a world of difference between the one-hit wonder and the timeless legend of rock who belts out a masterpiece even on his worst days.
After all, if it happens to be true, it doesn’t matter who said it or how memorable it sounds. I imagine that Seneca was not regularly quoting Epicurus to glorify the source, but rather because these observations were so universal that even an opponent of the Stoics couldn’t help but embrace them. There is something remarkable when the staunchest of adversaries have to say to one another, “On this we can all agree!”
I could mock Epicurus as much as I like for being soft in his dependence on feelings, yet the fact remains that he practiced incredible courage and restraint. Let us look to what is common to everyone and everything that is good, not simply attend to one particular instance that catches our fancy. A narrow view is no substitute for a broader perspective.
—Reflection written in 12/2012
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