Epictetus once urged him, with a touch of reproof, to take a wife and raise a family—for it beseemed a philosopher to leave some one to represent him after the flesh. But he received the home thrust: ‘Very well, Epictetus; give me one of your daughters.’ His remark to Herminus the Aristotelian is equally worth recording. He was aware that this man’s character was vile and his misdeeds innumerable, and yet his mouth was always full of Aristotle and his ten predicaments. ‘Certainly, Herminus,’ he said, ‘no predicament is too bad for you.’ When the Athenians were thinking, in their rivalry with Corinth, of starting gladiatorial shows, he came forward and said: ‘Men of Athens, before you pass this motion, do not forget to destroy the altar of Pity.’ On the occasion of his visiting Olympia, the Eleans voted a bronze statue to him. But he remonstrated: ‘It will imply a reproach to your ancestors, men of Elis, who set up no statue to Socrates or Diogenes.’ I once heard him observe to a learned lawyer that laws were not of much use, whether meant for the good or for the bad; the first do not need them, and upon the second they have no effect. There was one line of Homer always on his tongue: Idle or busy, death takes all alike. He had a good word for Thersites, as a cynic and a leveller. Asked which of the philosophers was most to his taste, he said: ‘I admire them all; Socrates I revere, Diogenes I admire, Aristippus I love.’ He lived to nearly a hundred, free from disease and pain, burdening no man, asking no man’s favour, serving his friends, and having no enemies. Not Athens only, but all Greece was so in love with him that as he passed the great would give him place and there would be a general hush. Towards the end of his long life he would go uninvited into the first house that offered, and there get his dinner and his bed, the household regarding it as the visit of some heavenly being which brought them a blessing. When they saw him go by, the baker-wives would contend for the honour of supplying him, and a happy woman was the actual donor. Children too used to call him father, and bring him offerings of fruit. Party spirit was once running high at Athens; he came into the assembly, and his mere appearance was enough to still the storm. When he saw that they were ashamed, he departed again without having uttered a word. When he found that he was no longer able to take care of himself, he repeated to his friends the tag with which the heralds close the festival: The games are done, The crowns all won; No more delay, But haste away, and from that moment abstaining from food, left life as cheerfully as he had lived it. When the end was near, he was asked his wishes about burial. ‘Oh, do not trouble; scent will summon my undertakers.’ Well, but it would be indecent for the body of so great a man to feed birds and dogs. ‘Oh, no harm in making oneself useful in death to anything that lives.’