If Chrysippus had not written obscurely, this fellow would have had nothing to be proud of. But what is it that I desire? To understand Nature, and to follow her!
Accordingly, I ask who is the Interpreter. On hearing that it is Chrysippus, I go to him. But it seems I do not understand what he wrote. So I seek one to interpret that. So far there is nothing to pride myself on.
But when I have found my interpreter, what remains is to put in practice his instructions. This itself is the only thing to be proud of.
But if I admire the interpretation and that alone, what else have I turned out but a mere commentator instead of a lover of wisdom?—except indeed that I happen to be interpreting Chrysippus instead of Homer.
So when any one says to me, "Prithee, read me Chrysippus," I am more inclined to blush, when I cannot show my deeds to be in harmony and accordance with his sayings.
IMAGE: Rembrandt, Two Scholars Disputing (1628)
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