Virtue (n.) has ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠no room to grow: nothing is straighter than the straight, nothing truer than the true, and whatever can still be added to a thing shows it was defective to begin with.

Virtue (n.) is ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠not praised any more for coming in a sound body than a maimed one; to value it by the body is like valuing the master by his slaves' livery.

Virtue (n.) is ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠a ruler that cannot be bent: any change in it is a detriment to its straightness; it judges everything, and nothing judges it.

Virtue (n.) is ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠being so thoroughly habituated that one cannot act other than rightly: not 'good' by design, but always the same and consistent with himself in every act.

The Good (n.) of ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠a human being is an independent mind, upright, subordinating other things to itself and itself to nothing.

The Good (n.) in ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠plants and animals is the good only by courtesy: every nature produces its own good only when fully developed, as wheat's good comes with summer sun and ripeness and not in the green shoot.

The Good (n.) cannot ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠be what merely entices the mind: bad things are alluring, and what lures us is only like the truth; it insinuates, it pesters, it leads us on.

A Good (n.) cannot ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠be something a person can also use badly: see how many make bad use of wealth, high birth and strength.

The Mind (n.) is ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠never greater than when it puts aside what is foreign to it, calms itself by fearing nothing and makes itself rich by desiring nothing.

Mind (n.) is ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠known to exist, but not what it is, where, of what kind, or from where: our awareness of it is crude and vague, as a baby's is of its own leading part.

Mind (n.) shows ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠it comes from a loftier place by judging the things it deals with to be base and narrow, and by not fearing to take its leave: it remembers its origin and knows its destination.

The Mind (n.) shows ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠its worth when it makes up for what it lacks by not wanting it: although something may be missing from what it is accustomed to, the mind itself lacks nothing.

Wisdom (n.) is ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠the one thing that will not arrive by chance: money comes on its own and office is handed to you, but virtue will not drop into your lap.

Wisdom (n.) cannot ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠be alienated like a field: a field is possessed by law and can be given away, but wisdom is possessed by nature and never leaves its master.

Wisdom (n.) should ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠bind us with its deeds, not its words: make me braver, more confident, equal to fortune, superior to it.

Wisdom (n.) is ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠a mind made complete, brought to its highest and best condition: it is the art of life.

Wealth (n.) grips ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠the man the way a fever grips him: we say we have a fever when in fact the fever has us, and the frantic poor have 'wealth' in the same way.

Wealth (n.) falls ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠to some people the way a penny falls into the sewer: did the money make Natalis unclean, or did he sully the money?

Wealth (n.) and ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠office (n.) do not make a man tall: you measure him together with his pedestal, but a dwarf is no taller on a mountaintop and a giant keeps his height standing in a well.

Wealth (n.) is ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠the foundation of corruption in Rome: found among the vanquished, source of bribery and civil strife, and what one people has taken from everyone can more easily be taken from that one by everyone.

Nature (n.) is ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠more easily understood than explained: a baby does not know what a constitution is yet knows its constitution.

Nature (n.) offers ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠as many paths to death as reasons for living: water, earth and air, any part of it will give a way out.

Nature (n.) wants ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠the stomach filled, not pleasured, and does not care whether the cup is gold or a cupped hand: whatever goes beyond her is at the whim of others and not necessary.

Nature (n.) makes ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠everything easy and unimpeded if we follow it; struggle against it and life is like rowing against the current.

Courage (n.) gives ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠energy to the eyes, practical wisdom a steady gaze, reverence mildness, joy a tranquil demeanour, self-discipline firmness: virtues leave marks and so are bodies.

Courage (n.) is ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠an unassailable fortification for human weakness, enabling a person to live safely in the siege of life using his own strength and weapons.

Courage (n.) matters ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠not as a question of whether it is an animal: what matters is that no animal is happy without it, unless fortified against chance and master of every accident before it strikes.

Courage (n.) can ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠sleep confidently outside the walls in peacetime or land on severed hamstrings and keep hold of its weapons; it is one rationality, taking prosperity well and misfortune bravely.

Happiness (n.) is ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠when all your joy comes from within, and you gaze on the things people seize and guard and find nothing you would even want.

Happiness (n.) as ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠people call it is frivolous and empty: it can very easily have one syllable prefixed to it, un-.

Happiness (n.) admits ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠no degrees: to call one man less happy than another implies he would prefer the other's life, but a happy man prefers nothing to his own.

The Highest good (n.) has ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠a region of its own, like ivory in India and iron among the Chalybes: it is the mind, and unless the mind is pure and sacred it cannot receive god.

The Highest good (n.) is ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠what you consult when you do not know what to do: whatever you choose must agree with the purpose of your whole life, and no one deliberates about the whole.

The Highest good (n.) is ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠like the person you search for while standing beside him: it is right in front of us, and we do not know that we know it.

The Honorable (n.) is ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠proved by a test: if you would die for your country, extending your neck cheerfully, you are giving up everything to have it, and so there is no other good.

The Honorable (n.) is ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠the perfected good, and good flows from it; what is good could have been bad, but what is honourable could not have been otherwise than good.

The Honorable (n.) loses ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠its best part the moment it is done under compulsion: mix it with foot-dragging, complaint, hesitation or fear and it has lost its contentment.