To Florentius. (358/59)
Many are the demands upon me, scarcely letting me breathe — the crowd of young men outside, the labor of writing inside, the difficulties of friends who need help, some being treated, others arising.
This flood has often kept me from my meals, and I have sometimes neglected food from sheer busyness. But the memory of the excellent Florentius nothing has ever driven out or dimmed. It blooms and flourishes within me, and speaking of you is like a festival — praising your gentleness, the steadfastness of your character, the sharpness of your mind, your honoring of Truth, your placing good men where they deserve to be.
Such are the songs we sing, competing over who will say more. And the greatest thing is this: greater is the pleasure of saying something fine about you than of receiving praise from others. So completely has each of us placed you above himself.
The sweeter thing would be to see you in person, but the "second sailing" [second-best option] is no small thing either — to send a letter and receive one. You alone do not trouble us even when you do not write. For your silence is no sign of change; even silent, you give your friends confidence that your mind remains the same.
Many are the demands upon me, scarcely letting me breathe — the crowd of young men outside, the labor of writing inside, the difficulties of friends who need help, some being treated, others arising.
This flood has often kept me from my meals, and I have sometimes neglected food from sheer busyness. But the memory of the excellent Florentius nothing has ever driven out or dimmed. It blooms and flourishes within me, and speaking of you is like a festival — praising your gentleness, the steadfastness of your character, the sharpness of your mind, your honoring of Truth, your placing good men where they deserve to be.
Such are the songs we sing, competing over who will say more. And the greatest thing is this: greater is the pleasure of saying something fine about you than of receiving praise from others. So completely has each of us placed you above himself.
The sweeter thing would be to see you in person, but the "second sailing" [second-best option] is no small thing either — to send a letter and receive one. You alone do not trouble us even when you do not write. For your silence is no sign of change; even silent, you give your friends confidence that your mind remains the same.
Modern English rendering for readability. See the 19th-century translation or original Latin/Greek for scholarly use.