Albert Einstein’s general theory of relativity, first published in 1915, proved to be a revolutionary way of looking at the universe. The three dimensions of space were combined with time to create a unified whole; and this space-time grid, instead of being fixed and static, could be warped in certain circumstances.
Sidonius Apollinaris, who died in 489 A.D., was a diplomat, literary figure, and ecclesiastical official of fifth-century Gaul. He was also a letter-writer of impressive fecundity and erudition; and his powers of memory were so great, we are told, that he was able to recite long liturgies from memory and deliver orations without notes or preparation. One of his letters (II.10), written to a friend named Hesperius, contains the following noteworthy sentence:
George Washington generally preferred a restrained style of leadership. By this I mean he was economical with his words, careful in doling out both praise and recriminations, and mindful that his actions would resound more loudly with subordinates than his statements. He understood the principle that, when leading men, sometimes a leader had to turn his back on them; he did not strive for back-slapping familiarity, but instead the calm and steady application of discipline and objective.
I very much like the following maxim of Cicero’s:
Nevertheless, no theater for virtue is greater than one’s conscience. [1]
What he meant by this was that one’s own conscience should guide the performance of good works. He was expressing his disapproval of those who did things for the purpose of gaining public favor, instead of following that inner voice which represents man’s instinctive sense of justice. What should be paramount in one’s mind are not specious public displays, or a craving for shameless notoriety; what should be controlling are the dictates of one’s own conscience.
This podcast is a reading of Thomas Gray’s poem Elegy Written In A Country Churchyard. It is a stately meditation on mortality and glory, themes that appear frequently in Stoic writings.
George Washington was keenly aware of the psychological pressures of being in debt. He once advised a nephew on the subject:
A reader asks if he’s making the right decision by leaving his corporate job and going to law school. He is uninspired by his current job, feels restless, and wants to fight against the injustices he sees around him. He is intelligent, organized, and motivated to change. I offer some thoughts on his decision.
The jurist, poet, and scholar Baha Al-Din Ibn Shaddad (بهاء الدين ابن شداد) was born in the city of Mosul, Iraq in 1145. He was a close friend of the famed commander and statesman Saladin, and wrote a highly valued biography of that eminent conqueror. He served for a time as the qadi (judge) of Aleppo, and in this capacity had much opportunity to acquaint himself to the realities of human behavior; it seems that, no matter the country or culture, career lawyers and judges make remarkably astute observers. Ibn Shaddad’s biographer Ibn Khallikan says that the judge often liked to quote this line of verse from the poet Ibn Al-Fadl (known as Surr-Durr):
The traveler Ibn Battuta visited north India in the early 1330s to seek the employment of the sultan Mohammad Ibn Tughluq. At some point during his residence in the city of Delhi, he had occasion to observe the practices of the Indian holy men, whom he called jugis (i.e., yogis).
There is an interesting passage in the writings of Valerius Maximus (III.3) that is open to different interpretations. It reads as follows:
