Boethius
Boethius
Anicius Manlius Severinus Boëthius, commonly called Boethius, was a Roman senator, consul, magister officiorum, and philosopher of the early 6th century. He was born four years after Odoacer deposed the last Roman Emperor and declared himself King of Italy, and entered public service under Ostrogothic King Theodoric the Great, who later imprisoned and executed him in 524 on charges of conspiracy to overthrow him. While jailed, Boethius composed his Consolation of Philosophy, a philosophical treatise on fortune, death, and other...
NationalityRoman
ProfessionPhilosopher
home men may
Every man must be content with that glory which he may have at home.
memories home men
...Whose souls, albeit in a cloudy memory, yet seek back their good, but, like drunk men, know not the road home.
men knows
Man is so constituted that he then only excels other things when he knows himself.
mean men goal
Good men seek it by the natural means of the virtues; evil men, however, try to achieve the same goal by a variety of concupiscences, and that is surely an unnatural way of seeking the good. Don't you agree?
men fortune forsaken
No man can ever be secure until he has been forsaken by Fortune.
confidence ignorance men
In other living creatures the ignorance of themselves is nature, but in men it is a vice.
men unhappy fortune
For in every ill-turn of fortune the most unhappy sort of unfortunate man is the one who has been happy
depressing men feeling-alone
A man content to go to heaven alone will never go to heaven.
good-luck men thinking
So nothing is ever good or bad unless you think it so, and vice versa. All luck is good luck to the man who bears it with equanimity.
adversity men affliction
In every kind of adversity, the bitterest part of a man's affliction is to remember that he once was happy.
heart men tyrants
Wretched men cringe before tyrants who have no power, the victims of their trivial hopes and fears. They do not realise that anger is hopeless, fear is pointless and desire all a delusion. He whose heart is fickle is not his own master, has thrown away his shield, deserted his post, and he forges the links of the chain that holds him.
music song real
I who once wrote songs with keen delight am now by sorrow driven to take up melancholy measures. Wounded Muses tell me what I must write, and elegiac verses bathe my face with real tears. Not even terror could drive from me these faithful companions of my long journey. Poetry, which was once the glory of my happy and flourishing youth, is still my comfort in this misery of my old age.
single-mom perfect moments
The completely simultaneous and perfect possession of unlimited life at a single moment.
intellectual suffering love-and-friendship
Love has three kinds of origin, namely: suffering, friendship and love. A human love has a corporal and intellectual origin.