2. And thus it is in spiritual things also. When thou art wrathful, know that not this single evil hath happened to thee, but that thou hast increased the aptness to it, and, as it were, poured oil upon the fire. When thou art overcome in passion, think not that this defeat is all; but thou hast nourished thine incontinence, and increased it. For it is impossible but that aptitudes and faculties should spring up where they were not before, or spread and grow mightier, by the corresponding acts. And thus, surely, do also, as the philosopher says, the infirmities of the soul grow up. For when thou hast once been covetous of money, if Reason, which leadeth to a sense of the vice, be called to aid, then both the desire is set at rest, and our ruling faculty is re-established, as it was in the beginning. But if thou bring no remedy to aid, then shall the soul return no more to the first estate; but when next excited by the corresponding appearance, shall be kindled to desire even more quickly than before. And when this is continually happening, the soul becomes callous in the end, and through its infirmity the love of money is strengthened. For he that hath had a fever, when the illness hath left him, is not what he was before his fever, unless he have been entirely healed. And somewhat on this wise also it happens in the affection of the soul: certain traces and scars are left in it, the which if a man do not wholly eradicate, when he hath been again scoured on the same place, it shall make no longer scars, but sores. 3. Wouldst thou, then, be no longer of a wrathful temper? Then do not nourish the aptness to it, give it nothing that will increase it, be tranquil from the outset, and number the days when thou hast not been wrathful. _I have not been wrathful now for one, nor for two, nor for three days_; but if thou have saved thirty days, then sacrifice to God. For the aptness is at first enfeebled, and then destroyed. _To-day I was not vexed, nor to-morrow, nor for two or three months together; but I was heedful when anything happened to move me thus._ Know that thou art in good case. To-day, when I saw a fair woman, I did not say to myself, _Would that one could possess her_; nor, _Happy is her husband_, for he who saith this saith also, _Happy is her paramour_; nor do I picture to my mind what should follow. But I stroke my head, and say, _Well done, Epictetus! you have solved a fine sophism, finer by far than the master sophism_. But if she were also willing and consenting, and sent to me, and if she also laid hold of me, and drew near to me, and I should yet restrain myself and conquer, this were indeed then a sophism above the Liar, above the Quiescent. Verily, for this a man’s spirit may rightly swell, and not for propounding the master sophism.[1]