13.
The Sun-god’s palace, set with pillars tall, And flashing bright with gold.
Or they describe the chariot of the Sun: Gold was the axle, golden eke the pole, And gold the tires that bound the circling wheels, And silver all the spokes within the wheels.
Call me a scoundrel, only call me rich!
All ask how great my riches are, but none Whether my soul is good.
None asks the means or source of your estate, But merely how it totals.
All men are worth as much as what they own.
What is most shameful for us to possess?
Nothing!
If riches bless me, I should love to live; Yet I would rather die, if poor.
A man dies nobly in pursuit of wealth.
Money, that blessing to the race of man, Cannot be matched by mother’s love, or lisp Of children, or the honour due one’s sire.
And if the sweetness of the lover’s glance Be half so charming, Love will rightly stir The hearts of gods and men to adoration.
Book: Moral Letters Vol III
Subtitle: Seneca's timeless letters of advice and wisdom.
Author: Seneca
Chapter: On the superficial blessings
Location: Chapter 115, Section 13
Content:
13.
The Sun-god’s palace, set with pillars tall, And flashing bright with gold.
Or they describe the chariot of the Sun: Gold was the axle, golden eke the pole, And gold the tires that bound the circling wheels, And silver all the spokes within the wheels.
Call me a scoundrel, only call me rich!
All ask how great my riches are, but none Whether my soul is good.
None asks the means or source of your estate, But merely how it totals.
All men are worth as much as what they own.
What is most shameful for us to possess?
Nothing!
If riches bless me, I should love to live; Yet I would rather die, if poor.
A man dies nobly in pursuit of wealth.
Money, that blessing to the race of man, Cannot be matched by mother’s love, or lisp Of children, or the honour due one’s sire.
And if the sweetness of the lover’s glance Be half so charming, Love will rightly stir The hearts of gods and men to adoration.