THE MEDITATIONS OF MARCUS AURELIUS
SELECTIONS FROM THE NEW TRANSLATION
by Jack Pendarvis
FROM BOOK ONE
- I must remember to thank Diognetus for use of his [blow dryer?].
- It was Rusticus who introduced me to the Dissertations of Epictetus. What can I say? Epictetus writes like a man afire… flat-out brilliance in a voice all his own. Trenchant… gripping. I laughed out loud on page 1 and couldn’t put it down until the end. A gifted and thrilling young writer with a deliciously dark take on contemporary life. Two thumbs up—way up—for Epictetus.
FROM BOOK TWO
- Man’s life is not more or less than the life of a housefly. The body is a decaying heap of garbage and the soul a fleeting dream. Why can’t I get any girls to go out with me? I’m such a loser. Ate a giant bag of M&Ms today.
- Even if the gods granted us a million years in which to live we would still not understand why Veronica Mars doesn’t do better in the ratings. The young cast is hugely appealing. But perhaps they remind the weary soul of its own steadily creeping decay. Our deeds will be forgotten forever within a generation of our deaths.
FROM BOOK THREE
- Life shrinks and fades away until it is gone, and nothing can be done to stop its flight. In the end we are no better than dirt and dust. Have I mentioned this before? Why won’t [Jennifer?] call me back?
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