You can force a man to enter a church , to approach the altar, to receive the sacrament, but you cannot force him to believe.
Augustine of Hippo (354-430) Christian church father, philosopher, saint [b. Aurelius Augustinus]
(Attributed)
Quotations by:
Augustine of Hippo
God has promised forgiveness to your repentance, but He has not promised tomorrow to your procrastination.
Augustine of Hippo (354-430) Christian church father, philosopher, saint [b. Aurelius Augustinus]
(Attributed)
The world is like a book, and those that never leave home read but one page.
Augustine of Hippo (354-430) Christian church father, philosopher, saint [b. Aurelius Augustinus]
(Attributed)
Variants:
- "The World is a book, and those who do not travel read only a page."
- "The world is a great book, of which they that never stir from home read only a page."
We need not despair of any man, so long as he lives. For God deemed it better to bring good out of evil than not to permit evil at all.
Augustine of Hippo (354-430) Christian church father, philosopher, saint [b. Aurelius Augustinus]
(Attributed)
Variant: "God judged it better to bring good out of evil than to suffer no evil to exist. "
Hope has two beautiful daughters. Their names are anger and courage; anger at the way things are, and courage to see that they do not remain the way they are.
Augustine of Hippo (354-430) Christian church father, philosopher, saint [b. Aurelius Augustinus]
(Attributed)
Quoted in William Sloane Coffin, The Heart Is a Little to the Left.
He who sings, prays twice.
[Qui cantat, bis orat.]
Augustine of Hippo (354-430) Christian church father, philosopher, saint [b. Aurelius Augustinus]
(Attributed)
Sometimes cited to Sermon 336, but this text is not found there. Often given as "Qui bene cantat bis orat" (properly, "He who sings well prays twice.")The closest found in Augustine's work (CCL 39, per here) is:
"For he who sings praise, does not only praise, but also praises joyfully; he who sings praise, not only sings, but also loves Him whom he is singing about/to/for. There is a praise-filled public proclamation in the praise of someone who is confessing/acknowledging God, in the song of the lover there is love." [Qui enim cantat laudem, non solum laudat, sed etiam hilariter laudat; qui cantat laudem, non solum cantat, sed et amat eum quem cantat. In laude confitentis est praedicatio, in cantico amantis affectio...]
Alternate: "The one who sings praise, not only praises, but also praises joyfully; the one who sings praise, not only sings, but also loves Him for whom he sings. In the praise by one who confesses the Divine Being, praise actually is a public profession; and in the song of the lover is affection for the Beloved."
Find out how much God has given you and from it take what you need; the remainder is needed by others.
Augustine of Hippo (354-430) Christian church father, philosopher, saint [b. Aurelius Augustinus]
(Attributed)
God had one son on earth without sin, but never one without suffering.
Augustine of Hippo (354-430) Christian church father, philosopher, saint [b. Aurelius Augustinus]
(Attributed)
Pray as though everything depended on God. Work as though everything depended on you.
Augustine of Hippo (354-430) Christian church father, philosopher, saint [b. Aurelius Augustinus]
(Attributed)
Also attributed to St. Ignatius Loyola, St. Benedict, and Brigham Young. Attributed to Francis Cardnial Spellman (though it predates him).Variant: "Work as if everything depends on you, and pray as if everything depends on God."
What does love look like? It has the hands to help others. It has the feet to hasten to the poor and needy. It has eyes to see misery and want. It has the ears to hear the sighs and sorrows of men. That is what love looks like.
Augustine of Hippo (354-430) Christian church father, philosopher, saint [b. Aurelius Augustinus]
(Attributed)
Singing is loving.
[Cantare Amantis est]
Augustine of Hippo (354-430) Christian church father, philosopher, saint [b. Aurelius Augustinus]
(Attributed)
Alt. trans.:
- "Singing is characteristic of a loving person."
- "Singing is what the lover does."
- "Singing belongs to one who loves."
You aspire to great things? Begin with little ones.
Augustine of Hippo (354-430) Christian church father, philosopher, saint [b. Aurelius Augustinus]
(Attributed)
Humility is the foundation of all the other virtues; hence, in the soul in which this virtue does not exist there cannot be any other virtue except in mere appearance.
Augustine of Hippo (354-430) Christian church father, philosopher, saint [b. Aurelius Augustinus]
(Attributed)
On the necessary points, unity. On the questionable points, liberty. In everything, love.
Augustine of Hippo (354-430) Christian church father, philosopher, saint [b. Aurelius Augustinus]
(Misattributed)
A commentary on theological / doctrinal dispute, frequently attributed to Augustine, but not found in his works.
The first known occurrence of such an expression is in Marco Antonio de Dominis, De Republica Ecclesiastica, Book 4, ch. 8, penultimate sentence (1617):
Omnesque mutuam amplecteremur unitatem in necessariis, in non necessariis libertatem, in omnibus caritatem.
[And let us all embrace one another, unity in what is necessary, liberty in what is not necessary, charity in all things.]
The phrase was also adapted by Richard Baxter (1615-1691) as his motto. See also Rupertus Meldenius (1626).
More discussion about this quotation here: Liber locorum communium: In necessariis unitas, in non necessariis libertas, in utrisque caritas (Marco Antonio De Dominis, 1617), cf. In necessariis unitas, in dubiis libertas, in omnibus caritas (and other variants). English: "In essentials unity ..."
Let us, on both sides, lay aside all arrogance. Let us not, on either side, claim that we have already discovered the truth. Let us seek it together as something which is known to neither of us. For then only may we seek it, lovingly and tranquilly, if there be no bold presumption that it is already discovered and possessed.
[Ut autem facilius mitescatis, et non inimico animo vobisque pernicioso mihi adversemini, illud quovis iudice impetrare me a vobis oportet, ut ex utraque parte omnis arrogantia deponatur. Nemo nostrum dicat iam se invenisse veritatem: sic eam quaeramus, quasi ab utrisque nesciatur. Ita enim diligenter et concorditer quaeri poterit, si nulla temeraria praesumptione inventa et cognita esse credatur.]
Augustine of Hippo (354-430) Christian church father, philosopher, saint [b. Aurelius Augustinus]
Against the Epistle of Manichaeus [Contra epistolam Manichaei], ch. 3, para. 4 (AD 397)
Alt. trans: "On the other hand, all must allow that you owe it to me, in return, to lay aside all arrogance on your part too, that so you may be the more disposed to gentleness, and may not oppose me in a hostile spirit, to your own hurt. Let neither of us assert that he has found truth; let us seek it as if it were unknown to us both. For truth can be sought with zeal and unanimity if by no rash presumption it is believed to have been already found and ascertained."
Therefore the good man, although he is a slave, is free; but the bad man, even if he reigns, is a slave, and that not of one man, but, what is far more grievous, of as many masters as he has vices.
[Proinde bonus etiamsi seruiat, liber est; malus autem etiamsi regnet, seruus est, nec unius hominis, sed, quod est grauius, tot dominorum, quot uitiorum.]
Augustine of Hippo (354-430) Christian church father, philosopher, saint [b. Aurelius Augustinus]
City of God [De Civitate Dei], Book 4, ch. 3 (AD 412-416) [ed. Dods (1871)]
(Source)
See 2 Peter 2:19 "For people are slaves to whatever masters them." The idea of being a slave to vices was also a Stoic belief. Compare to La Bruyere.
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
And therefore he that is good is free though he be a slave, and he that is evil, a slave though he be a king. Nor is he slave to one man, but that which is worst of all, unto as many masters as he affects vices.
[tr. Healey (1610)]
Thus, a good man, though a slave, is free; but a wicked man, though a king, is a slave. For he serves, not one man alone, but, what is worse, as many masters as he as vices.
[tr. Zema/Walsh (1950)]
Hence even if a good man be a slave, he is free; whereas if a wicked man rule, he is a slave -- and a slave not to one man but, what is worse, to as many masters as he has vices.
[tr. Green (Loeb) (1963)]
The good man, though a slave, is free; the wicked, though he reigns, is a slave, and not the slave of a single man, but -- what is far worse -- the slave of as many masters as he has vices.
[tr. Bettenson (1972)]
Therefore the good man is free even if he is a slave, whereas the bad man is a slave even if he reigns: a slave, not to one man, but, what is worse, to as many masters as he has vices.
[tr. Dyson (1998)]
Thus the good person is free, even if a slave, and the evil person is enslaved, even if a ruler -- enslaved not to one master but, what is far worse, to as many masters as he has vices.
[tr. Babcock (2012)]
But the rich man is tortured by fears, wasted with griefs, aflame with greed, never free from care, always restless and uneasy, out of breath from unending struggles with his enemies. It is true enough that he increases his holdings beyond measure by going through these miseries; but at the same time, thanks to that very increase, he also multiples his bitter cares. In contrast, the individual of moderate means is satisfied with his small and limited property; he is loved by family and friends; he enjoys sweet peace with his relations, neighbors, and friends; he is devout in his piety, benevolent of mind, sound of body, moderate in his style of life, unblemished in character, and untroubled in conscience. I do not know whether anyone would be so foolish as to have any doubt about which of the two to prefer.
[Alium praediuitem cogitemus; sed diuitem timoribus anxium, maeroribus tabescentem, cupiditate flagrantem, numquam securum, semper inquietum, perpetuis inimicitiarum contentionibus anhelantem, augentem sane his miseriis patrimonium suum in inmensum modum atque illis augmentis curas quoque amarissimas aggerantem; mediocrem uero illum re familiari parua atque succincta sibi sufficientem, carissimum suis, cum cognatis uicinis amicis dulcissima pace gaudentem, pietate religiosum, benignum mente, sanum corpore, uita parcum, moribus castum, conscientia securum. Nescio utrum quisquam ita desipiat, ut audeat dubitare quem praeferat.]
Augustine of Hippo (354-430) Christian church father, philosopher, saint [b. Aurelius Augustinus]
City of God [De Civitate Dei], Book 4, ch. 3 (AD 412-416) [tr. Babcock (2012)]
(Source)
On wealth and power as the foundation for happiness.
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
Let my wealthy man take with him fears, sorrows, covetousness, suspicion, disquiet, contentions, making immense additions to his estate only by adding to his heap of most bitter cares; and let my poor man take with him sufficiency with little, love of kindred, neighbours, friends, joyous peace, peaceful religion, soundness of body, sincereness of heart, abstinence of diet, chastity of carriage, and security of conscience. Where should a man find any one so sottish as would make a doubt which of these to prefer in his choice?
[tr. Healey (1610)]
But the rich man is anxious with fears, pining with discontent, burning with covetousness, never secure, always uneasy, panting from the perpetual strife of his enemies, adding to his patrimony indeed by these miseries to an immense degree, and by these additions also heaping up most bitter cares. But that other man of moderate wealth is contented with a small and compact estate, most dear to his own family, enjoying the sweetest peace with his kindred neighbors and friends, in piety religious, benignant in mind, healthy in body, in life frugal, in manners chaste, in conscience secure. I know not whether any one can be such a fool, that he dare hesitate which to prefer.
[ed. Dods (1871)]
But, our wealthy man is haunted by fear, heavy with cares, feverish with greed, never secure, always restless, breathless from endless quarrels with his enemies. By these miseries, he adds to his possessions beyond measure, but he also piles up for himself a mountain of distressing worries. The man of modest means is content with a small and compact patrimony. He is loved by his own, enjoys the sweetness of peace, in his relations with kindred, neighbors, and friends, is religious and pious, of kindly disposition, healthy in body, self-restrained, chaste in morals, and at peace with his conscience. I wonder if there is anyone so senseless as to hesitate over which of the two to prefer.
[tr. Zema/Walsh (1950)]
Let us suppose that the rich man is troubled by fears, pining with grief, burning with desire, never secure, always restless, panting in ceaseless struggles with his foes, though he does, to be sure, by dint of such suffering accumulate great additions to his estate even beyond measure, these additions adding also their quota of corrosive anxieties. Let the man of modest means, on the other hand, be self-sufficient on his trim and tiny property, beloved by his family, enjoying the most agreeable relations with his kindred, neighbours and friends, devoutly religious, kindly disposed, in good physical condition, leading a simple life, free from vice and untroubled in conscience. I don’t suppose that there is anyone so foolish as to think of doubting which one he would prefer.
[tr. Green (Loeb) (1963)]
But the rich man is tortured by fears, worn out with sadness, burnt up with ambition, never knowing serenity of repose, always panting and sweating in his struggles with opponents. It may be true that he enormously swells his patrimony, but at the cost of those discontents, while by this increase he heaps up a load of further anxiety and bitterness. The other man, the ordinary citizen, is content with his strictly limited resources. He is loved by family and friends; he enjoys the blessing of peace with his relations, neighbours, and friends; he is loyal, compassionate, and kind, healthy in body, temperate in habits, of unblemished character, and enjoys the serenity of a good conscience. I do not think anyone would be fool enough to hesitate about which he would prefer.
[tr. Bettenson (1972)]
The wealthy man, however, is troubled by fears; he pines with grief; he burns with greed. He is never secure; he is always unquiet and panting from endless confrontations with his enemies. To be sure, he adds to his patrimony in immense measure by these miseries; but alongside these additions he also heaps up the most bitter cares. By contrast, the man of moderate means is self-sufficient on his small and circumscribed estate. He is of his own family, and rejoices in the most sweet peace with kindred, neighbours and friends. He is devoutly religious, well disposed in mind, healthy in body, frugal in life, chaste in morals, untroubled in conscience. I do not know if anyone could be such a fool as to dare to doubt which to prefer.
[tr. Dyson (1998)]
What reason, what prudence, is there in wishing to glory in the greatness and extent of the empire, when you cannot point out the happiness of men who are always rolling, with dark fear and cruel lust, in warlike slaughters and in blood, which, whether shed in civil or foreign war, is still human blood; so that their joy may be compared to glass in its fragile splendor, of which one is horribly afraid lest it should be suddenly broken in pieces.
[Quae sit ratio, quae prudentia, cum hominum felicitatem non possis ostendere, semper in bellicis cladibus et in sanguine ciuili uel hostili, tamen humano cum tenebroso timore et cruenta cupiditate uersantium, ut uitrea laetitia comparetur fragiliter splendida, cui timeatur horribilius ne repente frangatur.]
Augustine of Hippo (354-430) Christian church father, philosopher, saint [b. Aurelius Augustinus]
City of God [De Civitate Dei], Book 4, ch. 3 (AD 412-416) [tr. Dods (1871)]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
You cannot show such estates to be anyway happy, as are in continual wars, and constantly in terror, trouble, and guilt of shedding human blood, though it be their foes’; with what reason or wisdom any man doth wish to glory in the largeness of empire, since all their joy is but as a glass, bright and brittle, and evermore in fear and danger of breaking.
[tr. Healey (1610)]
Is it reasonable and wise to glory in the extent and greatness of the Empire when you can in no way prove that there is any real happiness in men perpetually living amid the horrors of war, perpetually wading in blood? Does it matter whether it is the blood of their fellow citizens or the blood of their enemies? It is still human blood, in men perpetually haunted by the gloomy spectre of fear and driven by murderous passions. The happiness arising from such conditions is a thing of glass, of mere glittering brittleness. One can never shake off the horrible dread that it may suddenly shiver into fragments.
[tr. Zema/Walsh (1950)]
You cannot show that men are happy who live always amid the disasters of war. It matters not whether the blood shed is that of fellow-citizens or of enemies; in any case it is the blood of men. The dark shadow of fear and the lust for blood are always with them. Any joy that they know is like the glitter of brittle glass, which inspires the frightful thought that it may suddenly be shattered.
[tr. Green (Loeb) (1963)]
Is it reasonable, is it sensible, to boast of the extent and grandeur of empire, when you cannot show that men lived in happiness, as they passed their lives amid the horrors of war, amid the shedding of men's blood -- whether the blood of enemies or fellow-citizens -- under the shadow of fear and amid the terror of ruthless ambition? The only joy to be attained had the fragile brilliance of glass, a joy outweighed by the fear that it may be shattered in a moment.
[tr. Bettenson (1972)]
Is it wise or prudent to wish to glory in the breadth and magnitude of an empire when you cannot show that the men whose empire it is are happy? For the Romans always lived in dark fear and cruel lust, surrounded by the disasters of war and the shedding of blood which, whether that of fellow citizens or enemies, was human nonetheless. The joy of such men may be compared to the fragile splendour of glass: they are horribly afraid lest it be suddenly shattered.
[tr. Dyson (1998)]
What reason or sense is there in wanting to boast of the size and expanse of an empire when you cannot show that its people are happy? Or why boast of an empire if its people always dwell in the midst of the disasters of war and the spilling of blood -- the blood of fellow-citizens or the blood of foreign enemies, but, in either case, human blood -- and always live under the dark shadow of fear and in the lust for blood? Any joy they have may be compared to the fragile brilliance of glass: there is always the terrible fear that it will suddenly be shattered.
[tr. Babcock (2012)]
Remove justice, and what are kingdoms but gangs of criminals on a large scale?
[Remota itaque iustitia quid sunt regna nisi magna latrocinia?]Augustine of Hippo (354-430) Christian church father, philosopher, saint [b. Aurelius Augustinus]
City of God [De Civitate Dei], Book 4, ch. 4 (4.4) (AD 412-416) [tr. Bettenson (1972)]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
Set justice aside, then, and what are kingdoms but fair thievish purchases?
[tr. Healey (1610)]
Justice being taken away, then, what are kingdoms but great robberies?
[tr. Dods (1871)]
In the absence of justice, what is sovereignty but organized brigandage?
[tr. Zema/Walsh (1950)]
And so if justice is left out, what are kingdoms except great robber bands?
[tr. Green (Loeb) (1963)]
Justice removed, then, what are kingdoms but great bands of robbers?
[tr. Dyson (1998)]
Remove justice, then, and what are kingdoms but large gangs of robbers?
[tr. Babcock (2012)]
In the absence of justice, what is sovereignty but organized robbery?
[E.g.]
The will of God is the very nature of things. A portent, therefore, happens not contrary to nature, but contrary to what we know as nature.
[Dei voluntas rerum natura est. Portentum ergo fit non contra naturam, sed contra quam est nota natura.]
Augustine of Hippo (354-430) Christian church father, philosopher, saint [b. Aurelius Augustinus]
City of God, Bk. XXI, ch. 8
Commonly: "Miracles are not contrary to nature, but only contrary to what we know about nature."
This clearly shows that we learn better in a free spirit of curiosity than under fear and compulsion.
[Hinc satis elucet maiorem habere vim ad discenda ista liberam curiositatem quam meticulosam necessitatem.]
Augustine of Hippo (354-430) Christian church father, philosopher, saint [b. Aurelius Augustinus]
Confessions, Book 1, ch. 14 / ¶ 23 (1.14.23) (c. AD 398) [tr. Pine-Coffin (1961)]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
No doubt, then, that a free curiosity has more force in our learning these things, than a frightful enforcement.
[tr. Pusey (1838)]
Hereby it appears that free curiosity has more force in our learning of tongues than frightful enforcement.
[ed. Shedd (1860)]
From this it is sufficiently clear that a free curiosity hath more influence in our learning these things than a necessity full of fear.
[tr. Pilkington (1876)]
Whence it is sufficiently clear, that the free desire of knowledge has more power to make us learn these things than the urgency of fear.
[tr. Hutchings (1890)]
It is plain then that the freedom of curiosity is a far better instructor in language than the compulsion of fear.
[tr. Bigg (1897)]
All this goes to prove that free curiosity is of more value in learning than harsh discipline.
[tr. Sheed (1943)]
From this it is sufficiently clear that a free curiosity is more effective in learning than a discipline based on fear.
[tr. Outler (1955)]
Hence it is plain enough that for learning a language free interest has greater power than frightening constraint.
[tr. Ryan (1960)]
It is clear enough from this that free curiosity is a more powerful aid to the learning of languages than a forced discipline.
[tr. Warner (1963)]
By this it is clear that a free curiosity is a greater force in learning than a fear-ridden compulsion.
[tr. Blaiklock (1983)]
But what was it that delighted me save to love and to be loved? Still I did not keep the moderate way of the love of mind to mind — the bright path of friendship. Instead, the mists of passion steamed up out of the puddly concupiscence of the flesh, and the hot imagination of puberty, and they so obscured and overcast my heart that I was unable to distinguish pure affection from unholy desire. Both boiled confusedly within me, and dragged my unstable youth down over the cliffs of unchaste desires and plunged me into a gulf of infamy.
[Et quid erat quod me delectabat, nisi amare et amari? Sed non tenebatur modus ab animo usque ad animum quatenus est luminosus limes amicitiae, sed exhalabantur nebulae de limosa concupiscentia carnis et scatebra pubertatis, et obnubilabant atque obfuscabant cor meum, ut non discerneretur serenitas dilectionis a caligine libidinis. Utrumque in confuso aestuabat et rapiebat inbecillam aetatem per abrupta cupiditatum atque mersabat gurgite flagitiorum.]
Augustine of Hippo (354-430) Christian church father, philosopher, saint [b. Aurelius Augustinus]
Confessions, Book 2, ch. 2 / ¶ 2 (2.2.2) (c. AD 398) [tr. Outler (1955)]
(Source)
Agonizing over how horny he was at age 16.
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
And what was it that I delighted in, but to love, and be loved? but I kept not the measure of love, of mind to mind, friendship's bright boundary: but out of the muddy concupiscence of the flesh, and the bubblings of youth, mists fumed up which beclouded and overcast my heart, that I could not discern the clear brightness of love from the fog of lustfulness. Both did confusedly boil in me, and hurried my unstayed youth over the precipice of unholy desires, and sunk me in a gulf of flagitiousnesses.
[tr. Pusey (1838)]
But what was it that I delighted in save to love and to be beloved? But I held it not in moderation, mind to mind, the bright path of friendship, but out of the dark concupiscence of the flesh, and the effervescence of youth exhalations came forth which obscured and overcast my heart, so that I was unable to discern pure affection from unholy desire. Both boiled confusedly within me, and dragged away my unstable youth into the rough places of unchaste desires, and plunged me into a gulf of infamy.
[tr. Pilkington (1876)]
And what was it that delighted me, but to love and to be loved? But the intercourse of mind with mind was not restricted within the clear bounds of honest love; but dense vapours arose from the miry lusts of the flesh, and the bubblings of youth, and clouded and darkened my heart; so that the clearness of true love could not be discerned from the thick mist of sensuality. Both boiled together confusedly within me, and carried away my weak young life over the precipices of passion, and merged me in a whirlpool of disgrace.
[tr. Hutchings (1890)]
Now what was it that gave me pleasure, save to love and to be loved? But I could not keep within the kingdom of light, where friendship binds soul to soul. From the quagmire of concupiscence, from the well of puberty, exhaled a mist which clouded and befogged my heart, so that I could not distinguish between the clear shining of affection and the darkness of lust. Both stormed confusedly within me, whirling my thoughtless youth over the precipices of desire, drowning it in the eddying pool of shame.
[tr. Bigg (1897)]
My one delight was to love and to be loved. But in this I did not keep the measure of mind to mind, which is the luminous line of friendship; but from the muddy concupiscence of the flesh and the hot imagination of puberty mists steamed up to becloud and darken my heart so that I could not distinguish the white light of love from the fog of lust. Both love and lust boiled within me, and swept my youthful immaturity over the precipice of evil desires to leave me half drowned in a whirlpool of abominable sins.
[tr. Sheed (1943)]
What was there to bring me delight except to love and be loved? But that due measure between soul and soul, wherein lie the bright boundaries of friendship, was not kept. Clouds arose from the slimy desires of the flesh and from youth’s seething spring. They clouded over and darkened my soul, so that I could not distinguish the calm light of chaste love from the fog of lust. Both kinds of affection burned confusedly within me and swept my feeble youth over the crags of desire and plunged me into a whirlpool of shameful deeds.
[tr. Ryan (1960)]
I cared for nothing but to love and be loved. But my love went beyond the affection of one mind for another, beyond the arc of the bright beam of friendship. Bodily desire, like a morass, and adolescent sex welling up within me exuded mists which clouded over and obscured my heart, so that I could not distinguish the clear light of true love from the murk of lust. Love and lust together seethed within me. In my tender youth they swept me away over the precipice of my body’s appetites and plunged me in the whirlpool of sin.
[tr. Pine-Coffin (1961)]
And what was it that delighted me? Only this -- to love and be loved. But I could not keep that true measure of love, from one mind to another mind, which marks the bright and glad area of friendship. Instead I was among the foggy exhalations which proceed from the muddy cravings of the flesh and bubblings of first manhood. These so clouded over my heart and darkened it that I was unable to distinguish between the clear calm of love and the swirling mists of lust. I was storm-tossed by a confused mixture of the two and, in my weak, unstable age, swept over the precipices of desire and thrust into the whirlpools of vice.
[tr. Warner (1963)]
And what was it that gave me joy but to love and to be loved, love that was not held by that restraint which lies between mind and mind, where runs the boundary of friendship? From the miry, bubbling fleshly lust of youth, fogs arose which overclouded and darkened my heart, so that the difference between a tranquil affection and the blackness of lust was blurred. They boiled together in confusion, and snatched my weak years down the screes of impure desires to plunge me in a whirlpool of manifold wickedness.
[tr. Blaiklock (1983)]
What was it that delighted me? Only loving and being loved. But there was no proper restraint, as in the union of mind with mind, where a bright boundary regulates friendship. From teh mud of my fleshly desires, and my erupting puberty, belched out murky clouds that obscured and darkened my heart, until I could not distinguish the clam light of love from the fog of lust. The two swirled about together and dragged me, young and weak as I was, over the cliffs of my desires, and engulfed me in a whirlpool of sins.
[tr. Boulding (1997)]
We pursued an empty fame and popularity even down to the applause of the playhouse, poetical competitions, and contests for garlands of grass, foolish plays on the stage, and unbridled lusts.
[Hac popularis gloriae sectantes inanitatem, usque ad theatricos plausus et contentiosa carmina et agonem coronarum faenearum et spectaculorum nugas et intemperantiam libidinum]
Augustine of Hippo (354-430) Christian church father, philosopher, saint [b. Aurelius Augustinus]
Confessions, Book 4, ch. 1 / ¶ 1 (4.1.1) (c. AD 398) [tr. Ryan (1960)]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
Hunting after the emptiness of popular praise, down even to theatrical applauses, and poetic prizes, and strifes for grassy garlands, and the follies of shows, and the intemperance of desires.
[tr. Pusey (1838)]
Striving after the emptiness of popular fame, even to theatrical applauses, and poetic contests, and strifes for grassy garlands, and the follies of shows and the intemperance of desire.
[tr. Pilkington (1876)]
Vain seeking the emptiness of popular praise, even the applause of the theatres , and the prizes for verses, and the struggle for withering garlands, and the follies of shows, and the gratification of ungoverned desires.
[tr. Hutchings (1890)]
Education drew me to follow the toys that men call fame, applause in the theatre, prize poems, contests for crowns of hay, the follies of the stage, all the riot of passion.
[tr. Bigg (1897)]
I pursued the emptiness of popular glory and the applause of spectators, with competition for prize poems and strife for garlands of straw and the vanity of stage shows and untempered lusts.
[tr. Sheed (1943)]
In my public life I was striving after the emptiness of popular fame, going so far as to seek theatrical applause, entering poetic contests, striving for the straw garlands and the vanity of theatricals and intemperate desires.
[tr. Outler (1955)]
We would hunt for worthless popular distinctions, the applause of an audience, prizes for poetry, or quickly fading wreaths won in competition. We loved the idle pastimes of the stage and in self-indulgence we were unrestrained.
[tr. Pine-Coffin (1961)]
I and my friends would be hunting after the empty show of popularity -- theatrical applause from the audience, verse competitions, contests for crowns of straw, the vanity of the stage, immoderate lusts.
[tr. Warner (1963)]
I would be seeking empty popularity, cheers in the theatre, poetic competitions, strife for straw crowns, trifles of stage shows, and undisciplined desires.
[tr. Blaiklock (1983)]
We pursued trumpery, popular acclaim, theatrical plaudits, song-competitions and the contest for ephemeral wreaths, we watched trashy shows and indulged our interperate lusts.
[tr. Boulding (1997)]
The man who consciously owns a tree and knows how to use it and gives you thanks for it may not know its exact height or how widely the branches spread; but he is better off than the man who, while he has measured the tree and counted all its branches, neither owns it nor knows and loves its creator.
[Sicut enim melior est qui novit possidere arborem et de usu eius tibi gratias agit, quamvis nesciat vel quot cubitis alta sit vel quanta latitudine diffusa, quam ille qui eam metitur et omnes ramos eius numerat et neque possidet eam neque creatorem eius novit aut diligit.]
Augustine of Hippo (354-430) Christian church father, philosopher, saint [b. Aurelius Augustinus]
Confessions, Book 5, ch. 4 / ¶ 7 (5.4.7) (c. AD 398) [tr. Warner (1963)]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
For as he is better off who knows how to possess a tree, and return thanks to Thee for the use thereof, although he know not how many cubits high it is, or how wide it spreads, than he that can measure it, and count all its boughs, and neither owns it, nor knows or loves its Creator.
[tr. Pusey (1838)]
But as he is happier who knows how to possess a tree, and for the use thereof renders thanks to Thee, although he may not know how many cubits high it is, or how wide it spreads, than he that measures it and counts all its branches, and neither owns it nor knows or loves its Creator.
[tr. Pilkington (1876)]
For as he is better off who knows how to possess a tree, and gives thanks for its use, though he knows not its height or breadth, than he who has accurate knowledge of its dimensions , and the number of its boughs, and yet does not own it, and neither knows nor loves its Creator.
[tr. Hutchings (1890)]
For as he who knows that he owns a tree, and gives thanks to thee for its use, although he knows not how many feet high it is, or how wide it spreads, is better than he who measures it and counts all its branches, yet neither owns it nor knows nor loves its Creator.
[tr. Bigg (1897), 5.4.2]
For just as he is better who knows he possesses a tree and gives thanks to You for the use it is to him, although he does not know how many cubits high it is or the width of its spread, than another man who can measure it and number its branches but neither possesses it nor knows and loves Him who created it.
[tr. Sheed (1943)]
For just as that man who knows how to possess a tree, and give thanks to thee for the use of it -- although he may not know how many feet high it is or how wide it spreads -- is better than the man who can measure it and count all its branches, but neither owns it nor knows or loves its Creator.
[tr. Outler (1955)]
A man who knows that he owns a tree, and gives thanks to you for its fruit, even though he may not know how many cubits high it is or how wide it spreads, is better than one who measures it and counts all its branches, but does not own it and does not know or love its creator.
[tr. Ryan (1960)]
A man who knows that he owns a tree and thanks you for the use he has of it, even though he does not know its exact height or the width of its spread, is better than another who measures it and counts all its branches, but neither owns it nor knows and loves its Creator.
[tr. Pine-Coffin (1961)]
For example, he is the better man who knows how to own a tree and thanks you for its usefulness, though he does not know how many cubits high it is, or how broad its spread, than the man who measures it, counts its branches, but never calls it his own or esteems the one who made it.
[tr. Blaiklock (1983)]
Someone who knows enough to become the owner of a tree, and gives thanks to you for the benefits it brings him, is in a better state, even if ignorant of its height in feet and the extent of its spread, than another who measures and counts all its branches but neither owns it nor knows its creator nor loves him.
[tr. Boulding (1997)]
Already I had learned from thee that because a thing is eloquently expressed it should not be taken to be as necessarily true; nor because it is uttered with stammering lips should it be supposed false. Nor, again, is it necessarily true because rudely uttered, nor untrue because the language is brilliant. Wisdom and folly both are like meats that are wholesome and unwholesome, and courtly or simple words are like town-made or rustic vessels — both kinds of food may be served in either kind of dish.
[Iam ergo abs te didiceram nec eo debere videri aliquid verum dici, quia eloquenter dicitur, nec eo falsum, quia incomposite sonant signa labiorum; rursus nec ideo verum, quia impolite enuntiatur, nec ideo falsum, quia splendidus sermo est, sed perinde esse sapientiam et stultitiam sicut sunt cibi utiles et inutiles, verbis autem ornatis et inornatis sicut vasis urbanis et rusticanis utrosque cibos posse ministrari.]
Augustine of Hippo (354-430) Christian church father, philosopher, saint [b. Aurelius Augustinus]
Confessions, Book 5, ch. 6 / ¶ 10 (5.6.10) (c. AD 398) [tr. Outler (1955)]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
Of Thyself therefore had I now learned, that neither ought any thing to seem to be spoken truly, because eloquently; nor therefore falsely, because the utterance of the lips is inharmonious; nor, again, therefore true, because rudely delivered; nor therefore false, because the language is rich; but that wisdom and folly are as wholesome and unwholesome food; and adorned or unadorned phrases as courtly or country vessels; either kind of meats may be served up in either kind of dishes.
[tr. Pusey (1838)]
Of Thyself, therefore, had I now learned that neither ought anything to seem to be spoken truly, because eloquently; nor therefore falsely, because the utterance of the lips is inharmonious; nor, again, therefore true, because rudely delivered; nor therefore false, because the language is rich; but that wisdom and folly are as wholesome and unwholesome food; and adorned or unadorned phrases, as courtly or country vessels: either kind of meats may be served up in either kind of dishes.
[ed. Shedd (1860)]
From Thee, therefore, I had now learned, that because a thing is eloquently expressed, it should not of necessity seem to be true; nor, because uttered with stammering lips, should it be false nor, again, perforce true, because unskillfully delivered; nor consequently untrue, because the language is fine; but that wisdom and folly are as food both wholesome and unwholesome, and courtly or simple words as town-made or rustic vessels, -- and both kinds of food may be served in either kind of dish.
[tr. Pilkington (1876)]
I had learned, then, from Thee, that neither ought a thing to be regarded as true because it is eloquently uttered, nor on the other hand false because awkwardly expressed; neither is it true because the diction is ungraceful, nor false because clothed in glowing language; but that truth and folly are like wholesome and hurtful food, and language ornate and bald like fine and plain dishes, and either kind of meat may be served in either kind of dish.
[tr. Hutchings (1890)]
Already I had learned from Thee, that nothing ought to seem true because it is well expressed, nor false because the word-symbols are inelegant; yet again, that nothing is true because rudely delivered, nor false because the diction is brilliant; but that wisdom and folly are like meats that are wholesome or unwholesome, and that either kind of meat can be served up in silver or in delf, that is to say, in courtly or in homely phrase.
[tr. Bigg (1897), 5.6.2]
From You then I learned that a thing was not bound to be true because uttered eloquently, nor false because the utterance of the lips is ill-arranged; but that on the other hand a thing is not necessarily true because badly uttered, nor false because spoken magnificently. For it is with wisdom and folly as with wholesome and unwholesome food: just as either kind of food can be served equally well in rich dishes or simple, so plain or beautiful language may clothe either wisdom or folly indifferently.
[tr. Sheed (1943)]
Already, therefore, I had learned from you that nothing should be held true merely be-cause it is eloquently expressed, nor false because its signs sound harsh upon the lips. Again, I learned that a thing is not true because rudely uttered, nor is it false because its utterance is splendid. I learned that wisdom is like wholesome food and folly like unwholesome food: they can be set forth in language ornate or plain, just as both kinds of food can be served on rich dishes or on peasant ware.
[tr. Ryan (1960)]
But in your wonderful, secret way, my God, you had already taught me that a statement is not necessarily true because it is wrapped in fine language or false because it is awkwardly expressed. I believe that it was you who taught me this, because it is the truth and there is no other teacher of the truth besides yourself, no matter how or where it comes to light. You had already taught me this lesson and the converse truth, that an assertion is not necessarily true because it is badly expressed or false because it is finely spoken. I had learnt that wisdom and folly are like different kinds of food. Some are wholesome and others are not, but both can be served equally well on the finest china dish or the meanest earthenware. In just the same way, - wisdom and folly can be clothed alike in plain words or the finest flowers of speech.
[tr. Pine-Coffin (1961)]
I had now learned this from you: that a thing is not necessarily true for being expressed eloquently, nor necessarily false if the sounds made by the lips are imperfectly pronounced; nor, on the other hand, is a thing true simply because it is expressed in a rough and ready way, nor false because it is uttered in a fine style. For with wisdom and folly the same thing holds good as with wholesome and unwholesome food. You can have silver or earthenware dishes on the table, just as you can have a decorated or undecorated use of language; either kind of food can be served in either kind of dish.
[tr. Warner (1963)]
I believe that because you taught me and I had already learned from you that nothing should be deemed truly spoken because it is eloquently spoken, nor false because the indications of the lips are ill-arranged. Conversely, uncouth expression does not make something true, nor polished delivery make truth false. As with wholesome and unwholesome food, so it is with wisdom and folly, and as with adorned and unadorned language, so good food and bad can be served up in elegant or rustic dishes.
[tr. Blaiklock (1983)]
I still thought that it is not we who sin but some other nature that sins within us. It flattered my pride to think that I incurred no guilt and, when I did wrong, not to confess it so that you might bring healing to a soul that had sinned against you. I preferred to excuse myself and blame this unknown thing which was in me but was not part of me. The truth, of course, was that it was all my own self, and my own impiety had divided me against myself. My sin was all the more incurable because I did not think myself a sinner.
[Adhuc enim mihi videbatur non esse nos qui peccamus, sed nescio quam aliam in nobis peccare naturam, et delectabat superbiam meam extra culpam esse et, cum aliquid mali fecissem, non confiteri me fecisse, ut sanares animam meam, quoniam peccabat tibi, sed excusare me amabam et accusare nescio quid aliud quod mecum esset et ego non essem. Verum autem totum ego eram et adversus me impietas mea me diviserat, et id erat peccatum insanabilius, quo me peccatorem non esse arbitrabar, et execrabilis iniquitas, te, deus omnipotens, te in me ad perniciem meam.]
Augustine of Hippo (354-430) Christian church father, philosopher, saint [b. Aurelius Augustinus]
Confessions, Book 5, ch. 10 / ¶ 18 (5.10.18) (c. AD 398) [tr. Pine-Coffin (1961)]
(Source)
The central phrase about healing a soul that has sinned is from Psalm 41:4.
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
For I still thought "that it was not we that sin, but that I know not what other nature sinned in us"; and it delighted my pride, to be free from blame; and when I had done any evil, not to confess I had done any, that Thou mightest heal my soul because it had sinned against Thee: but I loved to excuse it, and to accuse I know not what other thing, which was with me, but which I was not. But in truth it was wholly I, and mine impiety had divided me against myself: and that sin was the more incurable, whereby I did not judge myself a sinner.
[tr. Pusey (1838)]
For I still thought, "that it was not we that sin, but that I know not what other nature sinned in us;" and it delighted my pride to be free from blame, and when I had done any evil, not to confess I had done any, that Thou mightest heal my soul because it had sinned against Thee: but I loved to excuse it, and to accuse I know not what other thing, which was with me, but which I was not. But in truth it was wholly I, and mine impiety had divided me against myself: and that sin was the more incurable, whereby I did not judge myself a sinner.
[ed. Shedd (1860)]
For it still seemed to me “that it was not we that sin, but that I know not what other nature sinned in us.” And it gratified my pride to be free from blame and, after I had committed any fault, not to acknowledge that I had done any, -- "that Thou mightest heal my soul because it had sinned against Thee;" but I loved to excuse it, and to accuse something else (I wot not what) which was with me, but was not I. But assuredly it was wholly I, and my impiety had divided me against myself; and that sin was all the more incurable in that I did not deem myself a sinner.
[tr. Pilkington (1876)]
For I still believed “that sin was not a voluntary act , but that some other nature, I knew not what, sinned in us;” and it flattered my pride to regard myself as free from fault; and when I had done anything wrong, not to admit that I had done it, “that Thou mightest heal my soul, because it had sinned against Thee;” but I loved to excuse it, and to accuse that which was in me, I knew not what, save that it was not myself. But indeed it was all myself, and my iniquity it was which had divided me against myself; and the sin which led me to deny, that I myself was a sinner, was on that account all the more incurable.
[tr. Hutchings (1890)]
For as yet I held that it is not we who sin, but that some alien nature sins in us; and my pride delighted in the thought that I was not to blame, and that, when I had done evil I need not confess that I had done it, to the end that Thou mightest heal my soul, because I had sinned against Thee. But I loved to excuse my soul, and lay the guilt on something else, which was with me and was not myself. But in truth I was one, and nothing but my iniquity had divided me against myself; and the thought that I was not a sinner was the deadlier part of my sin.
[tr. Bigg (1897)]
For I still held the view that it was not we that sinned, but some other nature sinning in us; and it pleased my pride to be beyond fault, and when I did any evil not to confess that I had done it, that You might heal my soul because it had sinned against You: I very much preferred to excuse myself and accuse some other thing that was in me but was not I. But in truth I was wholly I, it was my impiety that had divided me against myself. My sin was all the more incurable because I thought I was not a sinner.
[tr. Sheed (1943)]
For it still seemed to me “that it is not we who sin, but some other nature sinned in us.” And it gratified my pride to be beyond blame, and when I did anything wrong not to have to confess that I had done wrong -- “that thou mightest heal my soul because it had sinned against thee” -- and I loved to excuse my soul and to accuse something else inside me (I knew not what) but which was not I. But, assuredly, it was I, and it was my impiety that had divided me against myself. That sin then was all the more incurable because I did not deem myself a sinner.
[tr. Outler (1955)]
I still thought that it was not ourselves who sin, but that some sort of different nature within us commits the sin. It gave joy to my pride to be above all guilt, and when I did an evil deed, not to confess that I myself had done it, so that you might heal my soul, since it had sinned against you. I loved to excuse myself, and to accuse I know not what other being that was present with me but yet was not I. But in truth I was the one whole being, and my own impiety had divided me against myself. That sin was the more incurable whereby I judged myself to be no sinner.
[tr. Ryan (1960)]
For I was still of the opinion that it is not we ourselves who sin, but some other nature which is in us; it gratified my pride to think that I was blameless and, if I did something wrong, not to confess that I had done it, so that you might heal my soul, because my soul had sinned against you. Instead I liked to excuse myself and accuse something else -- something that was in me, but was not really I. But in fact I was wholly I and it was my impiety which had divided one me from another me. My sin was all the more incurable because I imagined that I was not a sinner.
[tr. Warner (1963)]
I still believed that it is not we who sin, but some undefined "nature" within us, and to be thus faultless was joy to my pride, as it was not to confess some evil I had done that you might heal my soul when I had sinned in your sight. I loved to excuse myself and blame something else which was with me, but not I. But truly it was wholly I, and my wickedness had divided me against myself. That sin was more incurable in which I did not consider myself a sinner.
[tr. Blaiklock (1983)]
For when many rejoice together, the joy of each one is richer: they warm themselves at each other’s flame.
[Quando enim cum multis gaudetur, et in singulis uberius est gaudium, quia fervefaciunt se et inflammantur ex alterutro.]
Augustine of Hippo (354-430) Christian church father, philosopher, saint [b. Aurelius Augustinus]
Confessions, Book 8, ch. 4 / ¶ 9 (8.4.9) [tr. Sheed (1943)] (c. AD 398)
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
For when many joy together, each also has more exuberant joy for that they are kindled and inflamed one by the other.
[tr. Pusey (1838)]
For when many rejoice together, each also has more exuberant joy; for that they are kindled and inflamed one by the other.
[ed. Shedd (1860)]
For when many rejoice together, the joy of each one is the fuller in that they are incited and inflamed by one another.
[tr. Pilkington (1876)]
For when many rejoice together, in each there is an overflowing joy, for they kindle themselves and are kindled by one another.
[tr. Hutchings (1890)]
For, when joy is shared with many, the joy of each is richer, because they warm one another, catch fire from one another.
[tr. Bigg (1897)]
For when many rejoice together the joy of each one is fuller, in that they warm one another, catch fire from each other.
[tr. Outler (1955)]
For when many men rejoice together, there is a richer joy in each individual, since they enkindle themselves and they inflame one another.
[tr. Ryan (1960)]
When large numbers of people share their joy in common, the happiness of each is greater because each adds fuel to the other’s flame.
[tr. Pine-Coffin (1961)]
For when many people rejoice together, the joy of each individual is all the richer, since each one inflames the other and the warmth spreads throughout them all.
[tr. Warner (1963)]
For when joy is shared with many, joy is fuller in each. They grow ardent and are fired each by the other.
[tr. Blaiklock (1983)]
The enemy held my will in his power and from it he had made a chain and shackled me. My will was perverse and lust had grown from it, and when I gave in to lust habit was born, and when I did not resist the habit it became a necessity. These were the links which together formed what I have called my chain, and it held me fast in the duress of servitude.
[Velle meum tenebat inimicus et inde mihi catenam fecerat et constrinxerat me. Quippe ex voluntate perversa facta est libido, et dum servitur libidini, facta est consuetudo, et dum consuetudini non resistitur, facta est necessitas. Quibus quasi ansulis sibimet innexis (unde catenam appellavi) tenebat me obstrictum dura servitus.]
Augustine of Hippo (354-430) Christian church father, philosopher, saint [b. Aurelius Augustinus]
Confessions, Book 8, ch. 5 / ¶ 10 (8.5.10) (c. AD 398) [tr. Pine-Coffin (1961)]
(Source)
Sometimes paraphrased "Habit, if not resisted, soon becomes necessity."
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
My will the enemy held, and thence had made a chain for me, and bound me. For of a forward will, was a lust made; and a lust served, became custom; and custom not resisted, became necessity. By which links, as it were, joined together (whence I called it a chain) a hard bondage held me enthralled.
[tr. Pusey (1838), and ed. Shedd (1860)]
My will was the enemy master of, and thence had made a chain for me and bound me. Because of a perverse will was lust made; and lust indulged in became custom; and custom not resisted became necessity. By which links, as it were, joined together (whence I term it a “chain”), did a hard bondage hold me enthralled.
[tr. Pilkington (1876)]
The enemy held my will , and with me made a chain for me and bound me. For from a perverse will, lust was made; and in obeying lust, habit was formed, and habit not resisted, became necessity. By which links, as it were, joined together -- therefore I call it a chain -- was I held shackled with a hard bondage.
[tr. Hutchings (1890)]
The enemy held fast my will, and had made of it a chain, and bound me tight therewith. For from a perverse will came lust, and the service of lust ended in habit, and acquiescence in habit produced necessity. These were the links of what I call my chain, and they held me bound in hard slavery.
[tr. Bigg (1897)]
The enemy held my will; and of it he made a chain and bound me. Because my will was perverse it changed to lust, and lust yielded to became habit, and habit not resisted became necessity. These were like links hanging one on another -- which is why I have called it a chain -- and their hard bondage held me bound hand and foot.
[tr. Sheed (1943)]
The enemy held fast my will, and had made of it a chain, and had bound me tight with it. For out of the perverse will came lust, and the service of lust ended in habit, and habit, not resisted, became necessity. By these links, as it were, forged together--which is why I called it “a chain”--a hard bondage held me in slavery.
[tr. Outler (1955)]
The enemy had control of my will, and out of it he fashioned a chain and fettered me with it. For in truth lust is made out of a perverse will, and when lust is served, it becomes habit, and when habit is not resisted, it becomes necessity. By such links, joined one to another, as it were -- for this reason I have called it a chain -- a harsh bondage held me fast.
[tr. Ryan (1960)]
The enemy held my will and made a chain out of it and bound me with it. From a perverse will came lust, and slavery to lust became a habit, and the habit, being constantly yielded to, became a necessity. These were like links, hanging each to each (which is why I called it a chain), and they held me fast in a hard slavery.
[tr. Warner (1963)]
My willingness the enemy held, and out of it had made me a chain and bound me. Of stubborn will ios a lust made. When a lust is served, a custom is made, and when a custom is not resisted a necessity is made. It was as though link was bound to link (hence what I called a chain) and hard bondage held me bound.
[tr. Blailock (1983)]
The pack of this world was a kind of pleasant weight upon me, as happens in sleep, and the thoughts in which I meditated on you were like the efforts of someone who tries to get up but is so overcome with drowsiness that he sinks back again into sleep. Of course no one wants to sleep forever, and everyone in his senses would agree that it is better to be awake; yet all the same, when we feel a sort of lethargy in our limbs, we often put off the moment of shaking off sleep, and, even though it is time to get up, we gladly take a little longer in bed, conscious though we may be that we should not be doing so. In just the same way I was quite certain that it was better to give myself up to your charity rather than to give in to my own desires; but, though the former course was a conviction to which I gave my assent, the latter was a pleasure to which I gave my consent.
[Ita sarcina saeculi, velut somno adsolet, dulciter premebar, et cogitationes quibus meditabar in te similes erant conatibus expergisci volentium, qui tamen superati soporis altitudine remerguntur. Et sicut nemo est qui dormire semper velit omniumque sano iudicio vigilare praestat, differt tamen plerumque homo somnum excutere cum gravis torpor in membris est, eumque iam displicentem carpit libentius quamvis surgendi tempus advenerit: ita certum habebam esse melius tuae caritati me dedere quam meae cupiditati cedere, sed illud placebat et vincebat, hoc libebat et vinciebat.]
Augustine of Hippo (354-430) Christian church father, philosopher, saint [b. Aurelius Augustinus]
Confessions, Book 8, ch. 5 / ¶ 12 (8.4.12) (c. AD 398) [tr. Warner (1963)]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
Thus with the baggage of this present world was I held down pleasantly, as in sleep: and the thoughts wherein I meditated on Thee were like the efforts of such as would awake, who yet overcome with a heavy drowsiness, are again drenched therein. And as no one would sleep for ever, and in all men's sober judgment waking is better, yet a man for the most part, feeling a heavy lethargy in all his limbs, defers to shake off sleep, and though half displeased, yet, even after it is time to rise, with pleasure yields to it, so was I assured that much better were it for me to give myself up to Thy charity, than to give myself over to mine own cupidity; but though the former course satisfied me and gained the mastery, the latter pleased me and held me mastered.
[tr. Pusey (1838)]
Thus with the baggage of the world was I sweetly burdened, as when in slumber; and the thoughts wherein I meditated upon Thee were like unto the efforts of those desiring to awake, who, still overpowered with a heavy drowsiness, are again steeped therein. And as no one desires to sleep always, and in the sober judgment of all waking is better, yet does a man generally defer to shake off drowsiness, when there is a heavy lethargy in all his limbs, and, though displeased, yet even after it is time to rise with pleasure yields to it, so was I assured that it were much better for me to give up myself to Thy charity, than to yield myself to my own cupidity; but the former course satisfied and vanquished me, the latter pleased me and fettered me.
[tr. Pilkington (1876)]
Thus with the baggage of this world I was sweetly pressed down, as it happens in sleep ; and the thoughts by which I meditated on Thee were like the efforts of those who would awake, but who being overpowered by deep drowsiness, are again immersed therein. And as no one wishes to be always asleep, and in the sound judgment of all men waking is better; yet often does a man, when a heavy drowsiness is upon his limbs, defer to shake off sleep, and though not approving it, yet even when the time to rise has come, more willingly encourage it; so was I convinced that it was better for me to surrender myself to Thy Charity, than to yield myself up to my own lusts; but the former course approved itself and convinced me, the latter pleased me and held me bound.
[tr. Hutchings (1890)]
So the heavy burden of the world seemed delightful, as in a dream, and my musings on Thee were like the struggles of one who would awake, but falls back overcome by depths of slumber. And as no one wishes to sleep for ever, for all men rightly count waking better, and yet a man will not break his slumber when his limbs are heavy with drowsiness, and is glad to sleep on, though his reason disapproves and the hour for rising has struck, so I knew for certain that it was better to yield to Thy love than to my lust, but the love charmed and could not prevail, the lust pleased and bound me.
[tr. Bigg (1897), 8.5.2]
I was held down as agreeably by this world’s baggage as one often is by sleep; and indeed the thoughts with which I meditated upon You were like the efforts of a man who wants to get up but is so heavy with sleep that he simply sinks back into it again. There is no one who wants to be asleep always -- for every sound judgment holds that it is best to be awake -- yet a man often postpones the effort of shaking himself awake when he feels a sluggish heaviness in the limbs, and settles pleasurably into another doze though he knows he should not, because it is time to get up. Similarly I regarded it as settled that it would be better to give myself to Your love rather than go on yielding to my own lust; but the first course delighted and convinced my mind, the second delighted my body and held it in bondage.
[tr. Sheed (1943)]
Thus with the baggage of the world I was sweetly burdened, as one in slumber, and my musings on thee were like the efforts of those who desire to awake, but who are still overpowered with drowsiness and fall back into deep slumber. And as no one wishes to sleep forever (for all men rightly count waking better) -- yet a man will usually defer shaking off his drowsiness when there is a heavy lethargy in his limbs; and he is glad to sleep on even when his reason disapproves, and the hour for rising has struck -- so was I assured that it was much better for me to give myself up to thy love than to go on yielding myself to my own lust. Thy love satisfied and vanquished me; my lust pleased and fettered me.
[tr. Outler (1955)]
Thus by the burdens of this world I was sweetly weighed down, just as a man often is in sleep. Thoughts wherein I meditated upon you were like the efforts of those who want to arouse themselves but, still overcome by deep drowsiness, sink back again. Just as no man would want to sleep forever, and it is the sane judgment of all men that it is better to be awake, yet a man often defers to shake off sleep when a heavy languor pervades all his members, and although the time to get up has come, he yields to it with pleasure even although it now irks him. In like manner, I was sure that it was better for me to give myself up to your love than to give in to my own desires. However, although the one way appealed to me and was gaining mastery, the other still afforded me pleasure and kept me victim.
[tr. Ryan (1960)]
In fact I bore the burden of the world as contentedly as one sometimes bears a heavy load of sleep. My thoughts, as I meditated upon you, were like the efforts of a man who tries to wake but cannot and sinks back into the depths of slumber. No one wants to sleep forever, for everyone rightly agrees that it is better to be awake. Yet a man often staves off the effort to rouse himself when his body is leaden with inertia. He is glad to settle down once more, although it is against his better judgement and it is already time he were up and about. In the same way I was quite sure that it was better for me to give myself up to your love than to surrender to my own lust. But while I wanted to follow the first course and was convinced that it was right, I was still a slave to the pleasures of the second.
[tr. Pine-Coffin (1961)]
So, as happens in a drowsiness, was I pleasantly loaded with the baggage of this world, and the thoughts I had in mind of you were like the struggles of those who want to wake up, but overcome by deep sleep are drowned in it again. And just as there is no one who wants to go on sleeping for ever (for in any sane man’s judgment it is better to stay awake), still a man does often postpone shaking off sleep, when he feels a heavy lethargy through all his limbs, and in spite of himself is prone to doze again, when often it is time to rise, in just such a fashion, I was certain that it was better to surrender to your love than to give in to my desire. The former course pleased and convinced me; the latter seduced me and held me prisoner.
[tr. Blaiklock (1983)]
I was thus weighed down by the pleasant burden of the world in the way one commonly is by sleep, and the thoughts with which I attempted to meditate upon you were like the efforts of people who are trying to wake up, but are overpowered and immersed once more in slumberous deeps. No one wants to be asleep all the time, and it is generally agreed among sensible people that being awake is a better state, yet it often happens that a person puts off the moment when he must shake himself out of sleep because his limbs are heavy with a lassitude that pulls him toward the more attractive alternative, even though he is already trying to resist it and the hour for rising has come; in a similar way I was quite sure that surrendering myself to your love would be better than succumbing to my lust, but while the former course commended itself and was beginning to conquer, the latter charmed and chained me.
[tr. Boulding (1997)]
When on all sides you showed me that your words were true, and I was overcome by your truth, I had no answer whatsoever to make, but only those slow and drowsy words, “Right away. Yes, right away.” “Let me be for a little while.” But “Right away — right away” was never right now, and “Let me be for a little while” stretched out for a long time.
[Undique ostendenti vera te dicere, non erat omnino quid responderem veritate convictus, nisi tantum verba lenta et somnolenta: “modo,” “ecce modo,” “sine paululum.” Sed “modo et modo” non habebat modum et “sine paululum” in longum ibat.]
Augustine of Hippo (354-430) Christian church father, philosopher, saint [b. Aurelius Augustinus]
Confessions, Book 8, ch. 5 / ¶ 12 (8.5.12) (c. AD 398) [tr. Ryan (1960)]
(Source)
Augustine writing of his reluctance to convert to Christianity. Sometimes paraphrased "By and by never comes."
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
And when Thou didst on all sides show me that what Thou saidst was true, I, convicted by the truth, had nothing at all to answer, but only those dull and drowsy words, "Anon, anon," "presently," "leave me but a little." But "presently, presently," had no present, and my "little while" went on for a long while.
[tr. Pusey (1838)]
And to Thee showing me on every side, that what Thou saidst was true, I, convicted by the truth, had nothing at all to reply, but the drawling and drowsy words: “Presently, lo, presently;” “Leave me a little while.” But “presently, presently,” had no present; and my “leave me a little while” went on for a long while.
[tr. Pilkington (1876)]
And to Thee, on all sides showing me that what Thou saidst was true, I, convicted by the truth, had nothing to say in reply, but only drawling and drowsy words, “Presently; yes, presently;” “Wait a little while." But “presently and presently" had no present; and “wait a little while” went on to a long while.
[tr. Hutchings (1890)]
On all sides Thou didst show me that Thy words are true, and the truth confounded me, so that I could make no reply but slow and drowsy words: "Presently, O presently; let me be a little while.” But my "presently, presently," had no present, and the little while proved a long while.
[tr. Bigg (1897), 8.5.3]
Whereas You showed me by every evidence that Your words were true, there was simply nothing I could answer save only laggard lazy words: “Soon,” “Quite soon,” “Give me just a little while.” But “soon” and “quite soon” did not mean any particular time; and “just a little while” went on for a long while.
[tr. Sheed (1943)]
On all sides, thou didst show me that thy words are true, and I, convicted by the truth, had nothing at all to reply but the drawling and drowsy words: “Presently; see, presently. Leave me alone a little while.” But “presently, presently,” had no present; and my “leave me alone a little while” went on for a long while.
[tr. Outler (1955)]
You used all means to prove the truth of your words, and now that I was convinced that they were true, the only answers I could give were the drowsy words of an idler -- "Soon," "Presently," "Let me wait a little longer." But "soon" was not soon and "a little longer" grew much longer.
[tr. Pine-Coffin (1961)]
And, while you showed me wherever I looked that what you said was true, I, convinced by the truth, could still find nothing at all to say except lazy words spoken half asleep: "A minute," "just a minute," "just a little time longer." But there was no limit to the minutes, and the little time longer went a long way.
[tr. Warner (1963)]
Though you showed me on every side that what you said was true, though convinced of that truth, I had nothing at all to answer other than some dull and drowsy words: "Soon," "Coming soon," "Leave me just a little." But my "little while" stretched on and on.
[tr. Blaiklock (1983)]
You plied me with evidence that you spoke truly; no, I was convinced by the truth and had no answer except the sluggish, drowsy words, "Just a minute," "One more minute," "Let me have a little longer." But these "minutes" never diminished, and my "little longer" lasted inordinately long.
[tr. Boulding (1997)]
But I wretched, most wretched, in the very commencement of my early youth, had begged chastity of Thee, and said, “Give me chastity and continency, only not yet.”
[At ego adulescens miser ualde, miser in exordio ipsius adulescentiae, etiam petieram a te castitatem et dixeram, ‘Da mihi castitatem et continentiam, sed noli modo.’]
Augustine of Hippo (354-430) Christian church father, philosopher, saint [b. Aurelius Augustinus]
Confessions, Book 8, ch. 7 / ¶ 17 (8.7.17) (c. AD 398) [tr. Pusey (1838)]
(Source)
Augustine describing his youth when he wanted God to remove his sinful sexual desires -- but not before he could satisfy them.
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
But I, miserable young man, supremely miserable even in the very outset of my youth, had entreated chastity of Thee, and said, “Grant me chastity and continency, but not yet.”
[tr. Pilkington (1876)]
But I, miserable youth, most miserable, in the very beginning of my youth had sought from Thee chastity, and said, “Give me chastity and continency, but not now.”
[tr. Hutchings (1890)]
Yea, wretched, O wretched youth that I had been, on the very threshold of my youth, I had even begged of Thee the gift of chastity; but I had said “Give me chastity and self- control, but not just yet.”
[tr. Bigg (1897), 8.7.2]
But I in my great worthlessness -- for it was greater thus early -- had begged You for chastity, saying: “Grant me chastity and continence, but not yet.”
[tr. Sheed (1943)]
But, wretched youth that I was -- supremely wretched even in the very outset of my youth -- I had entreated chastity of thee and had prayed, “Grant me chastity and continence, but not yet.”
[tr. Outler (1955)]
But I, a most wretched youth, most wretched from the very start of my youth, had even sought chastity from you, and had said, "Give me chastity and continence, but not yet!"
[tr. Ryan (1960)]
As a youth I had been woefully at fault, particularly in early adolescence. I had prayed to you for chastity and said, "Give me chastity and continence, but not yet."
[tr. Pine-Coffin (1961)]
But I, wretched young man that I was -- even more wretched at the beginning of my youth -- had begged you for chastity and had said, "Make me chaste and continent, but not yet."
[tr. Warner (1963)]
But I, most wretched youth, and more wretched at my youth’s beginning, had even sought chastity at your hands and said: 'Give me chastity and self-control but not yet.'
[tr. Blaiklock (1983)]
I was held back by mere trifles, the most paltry inanities, all my old attachments. They plucked at my garment of flesh and whispered, “Are you going to dismiss us? From this moment we shall never be with you again, for ever and ever. From this moment you will never again be allowed to do this thing or that, for evermore.” What was it, my God, that they meant when they whispered “this thing or that?” Things so sordid and so shameful that I beg you in your mercy to keep the soul of your servant free from them!
[Retinebant nugae nugarum et vanitates vanitantium, antiquae amicae meae, et succutiebant vestem meam carneam et submurmurabant, “dimittisne nos?” et “a momento isto non erimus tecum ultra in aeternum” et “a momento isto non tibi licebit hoc et illud ultra in aeternum.” et quae suggerebant in eo quod dixi “hoc et illud,” quae suggerebant, deus meus, avertat ab anima servi tui misericordia tua! Quas sordes suggerebant, quae dedecora!]
Augustine of Hippo (354-430) Christian church father, philosopher, saint [b. Aurelius Augustinus]
Confessions, Book 8, ch. 11 / ¶ 26 (8.11.26) (c. AD 398) [tr. Pine-Coffin (1961)]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
The very toys of toys, and vanities of vanities, my ancient mistresses, still held me; they plucked my fleshy garment, and whispered softly, "Dost thou cast us off? and from that moment shall we no more be with thee for ever? and from that moment shall not this or that be lawful for thee for ever?" And what was it which they suggested in that I said, "this or that," what did they suggest, O my God? Let Thy mercy turn it away from the soul of Thy servant. What defilements did they suggest! what shame!
[tr. Pusey (1838)]
The very toys of toys, and vanities of vanities, my old mistresses, still enthralled me; they shook my fleshly garment, and whispered softly, “Dost thou part with us? And from that moment shall we no more be with thee for ever? And from that moment shall not this or that be lawful for thee for ever?” And what did they suggest to me in the words “this or that?” What is it that they suggested, O my God? Let Thy mercy avert it from the soul of Thy servant. What impurities did they suggest! What shame!
[tr. Pilkington (1876)]
Toys of toys and vanities of vanities, my old loves held me back, and made my fleshly garment quiver whispering softly, “Dost thou leave us? and from that moment shall we never be with thee any more? And from this moment will not this and that be allowed thee for ever?” And what did they suggest in that which I call "this or that"? what did they suggest, my God ? Let Thy Mercy turn it away from the soul of Thy servant! What defilements did they suggest! what shameful things!
[tr. Hutchings (1890)]
Trifles of trifles and vanities of vanities, my old mistresses, held me back; they caught hold of the garment of my flesh and whispered in my ear, "Can you let us go? and from that instant we shall see you no more for ever; and from that instant this and that will be forbidden you for ever.” What did they mean, O m God, what did they mean by "this and that?" O let Thy mercy guard the soul of Thy servant from the vileness, the shame that they meant!
[tr. Bigg (1897), 8.11.2]
Those trifles of all trifles, and vanities of vanities, my one-time mistresses, held me back, plucking at my garment of flesh and murmuring softly: “Are you sending us away?” And “From this moment shall we not be with you, now or forever?” And “From this moment shall this or that not be allowed you, now or forever?” What were they suggesting to me in the phrase I have written “this or that,” what were they suggesting to me, O my God? Do you in your mercy keep from the soul of Your servant the vileness and uncleanness they were suggesting.
[tr. Sheed (1943)]
It was, in fact, my old mistresses, trifles of trifles and vanities of vanities, who still enthralled me. They tugged at my fleshly garments and softly whispered: “Are you going to part with us? And from that moment will we never be with you any more? And from that moment will not this and that be forbidden you forever?” What were they suggesting to me in those words “this or that”? What is it they suggested, O my God? Let thy mercy guard the soul of thy servant from the vileness and the shame they did suggest!
[tr. Outler (1955)]
My lovers of old, trifles of trifles and vanities of vanities held me back. They plucked at my fleshly garment, and they whispered softly: “Do you cast us off?” and “From that moment we shall no more be with you forever and ever!” and again, “From that moment no longer will this thing and that be allowed to you, forever and ever!” What did they suggest by what I have called “this thing and that,” what, O my God, did they suggest? May your mercy turn away all that from your servant’s soul! What filth did they suggest! What deeds of shame!
[tr. Ryan (1960)]
Toys and trifles, utter vanities had been my mistresses, and now they were holding me back, pulling me by the garment of my flesh and softly murmuring in my ear: “Are you getting rid of us?” and “From this moment shall we never be with you again for all eternity?” and “From this moment will you never for all eternity be allowed to do this or to do that?” My God, what was it, what was it that they suggested in those words “this” or “that” which I have just written? I pray you in your mercy to keep such things from the soul of your servant. How filthy, how shameful were these things they were suggesting!
[tr. Warner (1963)]
The trifles of trifles, the worthless amid the worthless, past objects of my affections, were what was holding me, pulling at the garment of my flesh and whispering: "Are you sending us away? From this moment we shall not be with you for eternity? And from this moment you will not be permitted to do this and that for ever?" And what did they suggest by my "this and that", my God? Let your mercy turn it away from your servant’s soul. What impurities, what acts of shame they suggested.
[tr. Blaiklock (1983)]
I was asking myself these questions, weeping all the while with the most bitter sorrow in my heart, when all at once I heard the sing-song voice of a child in a nearby house. Whether it was the voice of a boy or a girl I cannot say, but again and again it repeated the refrain “Take it and read, take it and read.”
[Dicebam haec et flebam amarissima contritione cordis mei. Et ecce audio vocem de vicina domo cum cantu dicentis et crebro repetentis, quasi pueri an puellae, nescio: “tolle lege, tolle lege.”]
Augustine of Hippo (354-430) Christian church father, philosopher, saint [b. Aurelius Augustinus]
Confessions, Book 8, ch. 12 / ¶ 29 (8.12.29) (c. AD 398) [tr. Pine-Coffin (1961)]
(Source)
Augustine writes of being unable to break himself away from his life of carnal sin, until, at this moment, he gets what he deems an inspiration from God to open the Bible at random and, reading Romans 13:13-14, makes his full conversion to Christianity.
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
So was I speaking and weeping in the most bitter contrition of my heart, when, lo! I heard from a neighbouring house a voice, as of boy or girl, I know not, chanting, and oft repeating, "Take up and read; Take up and read."
[tr. Pusey (1838) and ed. Shedd (1860)]
I was saying these things and weeping in the most bitter contrition of my heart, when, lo, I heard the voice as of a boy or girl, I know not which, coming from a neighbouring house, chanting, and oft repeating, “Take up and read; take up and read.
[tr. Pilkington (1876)]
I spoke thus , and wept in the bitterest sorrow of my heart. And lo, I heard a voice as of a boy or girl from a neighbouring house, I know not which, chanting, and frequently repeating, "Take, read; take, read."
[tr. Hutchings (1890)]
Thus I spoke, weeping in bitter contrition of heart, when, lo, I heard a voice from the neighbouring house. It seemed as if some boy or girl, I knew not which, was repeating in a kind of chant the words, "Take and read, take and read."
[tr. Bigg (1897)]
Such things I said, weeping in the most bitter sorrow of my heart. And suddenly I heard a voice from some nearby house, a boy’s voice or a girl’s voice, I do not know: but it was a sort of sing-song, repeated again and again, “Take and read, take and read.”
[tr. Sheed (1943)]
I was saying these things and weeping in the most bitter contrition of my heart, when suddenly I heard the voice of a boy or a girl -- I know not which -- coming from the neighboring house, chanting over and over again, “Pick it up, read it; pick it up, read it.”
[tr. Outler (1955)]
Such words I spoke, and with most bitter contrition I wept within my heart. And lo, I heard from a nearby house, a voice like that of a boy or a girl, I know not which, chanting and repeating over and over, “Take up and read. Take up and read.”
[tr. Ryan (1960)]
So I spoke, weeping in the bitter contrition of my heart. Suddenly a voice reaches my ears from a nearby house. It is the voice of a boy or a girl (I don’t know which) and in a kind of singsong the words are constantly repeated: “Take it and read it. Take it and read it.”
[tr. Warner (1963)]
Such were my words and I wept in the bitter contrition of my heart. And, see, I heard a voice from a neighbouring house chanting repeatedly, whether a boy’s or a girl’s voice I do not know: "Pick it up and read it, pick it up and read it."
[tr. Blaiklock (1983)]
Men go forth to marvel at the heights of mountains and the huge waves of the sea, the broad flow of the rivers, the vastness of the ocean, the orbits of the stars, and yet they neglect to marvel at themselves.
[Et eunt homines mirari alta montium et ingentes fluctus maris et latissimos lapsus fluminum et oceani ambitum et gyros siderum, et relinquunt se ipsos.]
Augustine of Hippo (354-430) Christian church father, philosopher, saint [b. Aurelius Augustinus]
Confessions, Book 10, ch. 8 / ¶ 15 (10.8.15) (c. AD 398) [tr. Outler (1955)]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
And men go abroad to admire the heights of mountains, the mighty billows of the sea, the broad tides of rivers, the compass of the ocean, and the circuits of the stars, and pass themselves by.
[tr. Pusey (1838)]
And men go forth to wonder at the heights of mountains, the huge waves of the sea, the broad flow of the rivers, the extent of the ocean, and the courses of the stars, and omit to wonder at themselves.
[tr. Pilkington (1876)]
And men travel to admire the heights of mountains, and the vast waves of the sea, and the broad streams of rivers, and the circuit of the ocean, and the orbits of stars, and pass over themselves.
[tr. Hutchings (1890)]
Here are men going afar to marvel at the heights of mountains, the mighty waves of the sea, the long courses of great rivers, the vastness of the ocean, the movements of the stars, yet leaving themselves unnoticed.
[tr. Sheed (1943)]
Men go forth to marvel at the mountain heights, at huge waves in the sea, at the broad expanse of flowing rivers, at the wide reaches of the ocean, and at the circuits of the stars, but themselves they pass by.
[tr. Ryan (1960)]
Yet men go out and gaze in astonishment at high mountains, the huge waves of the sea, the broad reaches of rivers, the ocean that encircles the world, or the stars in their courses. But they pay no attention to themselves.
[tr. Pine-Coffin (1961)]
And men go abroad to wonder at the heights of mountains, the huge waves of the sea, the broad streams of rivers, the vastness of the ocean, the turnings of the stars -- and they do not notice themselves.
[tr. Warner (1963)]
Men go to wonder at the heights of mountains, and the huge billows of the sea, the broad sweeps of the rivers, the curve of ocean and the circuits of the stars, and yet pass by themselves.
[tr. Blaiklock (1983)]
Why does truth call forth hatred? Simply because truth is loved in such a way that those who love some other thing want it to be the truth, and precisely because they do not wish to be deceived, are unwilling to be convinced that they are indeed being deceived. Thus they hate the truth for the sake of that other thing which they love, because they take it for the truth. They love truth when it enlightens them, they hate it when it accuses them.
[Cur autem veritas parit odium et inimicus eis factus est homo tuus verum praedicans, cum ametur beata vita, quae non est nisi gaudium de veritate, nisi quia sic amatur veritas ut, quicumque aliud amant, hoc quod amant velint esse veritatem, et quia falli nollent, nolunt convinci quod falsi sint? Itaque propter eam rem oderunt veritatem, quam pro veritate amant. Amant eam lucentem, oderunt eam redarguentem.]
Augustine of Hippo (354-430) Christian church father, philosopher, saint [b. Aurelius Augustinus]
Confessions, Book 10, ch. 23 / ¶ 34 (10.23.34) (c. AD 398) [tr. Boulding (1997)]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
But why doth "truth generate hatred," and the man of thine, preaching the truth, become an enemy to them? Whereas a happy life is loved, which is nothing else but joying in the truth; unless that truth is in that kind loved, that they who love any thing else would gladly have that which they love to be the truth: and because they would not be deceived, would not be convinced that they are do? Therefore do they hate the truth for that thing's sake which they love instead of the truth. They love truth when she enlightens, they hate her when she reproves.
[tr. Pusey (1838)]
Why, then, doth truth beget hatred, and that man of thine, preaching the truth, became an enemy unto them, whereas a happy life is loved, which is naught else but joy in the truth; unless that truth is loved in such a sort as that those who love aught else wish that to be the truth which they love, and, as they are willing to be deceived, are unwilling to be convinced that they are so? Therefore do they hate the truth for the sake of that thing which they love instead of the truth. They love the truth when she shines on them, and hate her when she rebukes them.
[tr. Pilkington (1876)]
But why does "truth beget hatred," and why is that man of Thine, preaching the truth, made an enemy to them, whereas a happy life is loved, which is nothing else joy in the truth; unless the truth is so loved, that whoever loves something else, wants that which they love to be the truth, and because they are unwilling to be deceived, are unwilling to be convinced that they are imposed on? Therefore do they hate the truth, for the sake of that thing which they love instead of it. They love truth when it shines; hate it when it rebukes.
[tr. Hutchings (1890)]
Why does truth call forth hatred? Why is Your servant treated as an enemy by those to whom he preaches the truth, if happiness is loved, which is simply joy in truth? Simply because truth is loved in such a way that those who love some other thing want it to be the truth, and, precisely because they do not wish to be deceived, are unwilling to be convinced that they are deceived. Thus they hate the truth for the sake of that other thing which they love because they take it for truth. They love truth when it enlightens them, they hate truth when it accuses them.
[tr. Sheed (1943)]
Why, then, does truth generate hatred, and why does thy servant who preaches the truth come to be an enemy to them who also love the happy life, which is nothing else than joy in the truth -- unless it be that truth is loved in such a way that those who love something else besides her wish that to be the truth which they do love. Since they are unwilling to be deceived, they are unwilling to be convinced that they have been deceived. Therefore, they hate the truth for the sake of whatever it is that they love in place of the truth. They love truth when she shines on them; and hate her when she rebukes them.
[tr. Outler (1955)]
Why is it, then, that “truth begets hatred?” Why is your man who preaches truth to men become an enemy in their eyes, even though there is love for the happy life, which is naught else but joy in the truth? Can such things be except because truth is loved in such wise that men who love some other object want what they love to be the truth, and because they do not want to be deceived, they refuse to be convinced that they have been deceived? Therefore, they hate the truth for the sake of that very thing which they have loved instead of the truth. They love the truth because it brings light to them; they hate it in as much as it reproves them.
[tr. Ryan (1960)]
But why does truth engender hatred? Why does your servant meet with hostility when he preaches the truth, although men love happiness, which is simply the enjoyment of truth? It can only be that man’s love of truth is such that when he loves something which is not the truth, he pretends to himself that what he loves is the truth, and because he hates to be proved wrong, he will not allow himself to be convinced that he is deceiving himself. So he hates the real truth for the sake of what he takes to his heart in its place. Men love the truth when it bathes them in its light: they hate it when it proves them wrong.
[tr. Pine-Coffin (1961)]
But why is it that “truth gives birth to hatred”? Why does your servant who preaches the truth incur enmity in spite of the fact that people love the happy life which simply is joy in truth? It is because truth is loved in such a way that those who love something else would like to believe that what they love is the truth, and because they would not like to be deceived, they object to being shown that in fact they are deceived. And so they hate truth for the sake of whatever it is they love instead of truth. They love the light of truth, but hate it when it shows them up as wrong.
[tr. Warner (1963)]
But why does truth engender hatred, and why does your man become an enemy to those to whom he preaches truth, though the blessed life is loved, which is nothing else but rejoicing because of the truth? Unless it be that truth is so” loved, that, whoever loves anything else wants what they love to be the truth, and because they do not wish to be deceived and are unwilling to be convinced that they are deceived. And so, for the sake of that which they love instead of the truth, they hate the truth. They love truth when it enlightens, hate it when it reproves.
[tr. Blaiklock (1983)]
So why, then, does truth sometimes engender hatred? Why does the servant of God come to be an enemy of those who want a happy life, even though true happiness is joy in the truth? The reason must be this: Our love of truth is such that when we love something that’s not the truth, we pretend to ourselves that we we love is the truth. Then, because we hate to be proved wrong, we’re unwilling to be convinced that we’ve deceived ourselves. In this way, then, people hate the truth for the sake of whatever it is that they love more than the truth. They love truth when it shines warmly on them, and hate it when it rebukes them.
[Source]
And even when I reproach myself for it, the love of praise tempts me. There is temptation in the very process of self-reproach, for often, by priding himself on his contempt for vainglory, a man is guilty of even emptier pride; and for this reason his contempt of vainglory is an empty boast, because he cannot really hold it in contempt as long as he prides himself on doing so.
[[Amor laudis] temptat et cum a me in me arguitur, eo ipso quo arguitur, et saepe de ipso vanae gloriae contemptu vanius gloriatur, ideoque non iam de ipso contemptu gloriae gloriatur: non enim eam contemnit cum gloriatur.]
Augustine of Hippo (354-430) Christian church father, philosopher, saint [b. Aurelius Augustinus]
Confessions, Book 10, ch. 38 / ¶ 63 (10.38.63) (c. AD 398) [tr. Pine-Coffin (1961)]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
[Love of praise] tempts, even when it is reproved by myself in myself, on the very ground that it is reproved; and often glories more vainly of the very contempt of vain-glory; and so it is no longer contempt of vain-glory, whereof it glories; for it doth not contemn when it glorieth.
[tr. Pusey (1838)]
[Love of praise] tempts, even when within I reprove myself for it, on the very ground that it is reproved; and often man glories more vainly of the very scorn of vain-glory; wherefore it is not any longer scorn of vain-glory whereof it glories, for he does not truly contemn it when he inwardly glories.
[tr. Pilkington (1876)]
[Love of praise] tempts, even when I condemn it in myself, and from the very fact that it is condemned; and often glories more vainly in the very contempt of vain-glory; and therefore it ceases to be contempt of vain-glory, whereof it glories; for it does not really contemn it when it so glories.
[tr. Hutchings (1890)]
Love of praise tempts me even when I reprove it in myself, indeed in the very fact that I do reprove it: a man often glories the more vainly for his very contempt of vainglory: for which reason he does not really glory in his contempt of glory; in that he glories in it, he does not contemn it.
[tr. Sheed (1943), 10.39]
[Love of praise] tempts me, even when I inwardly reprove myself for it, and this precisely because it is reproved. For a man may often glory vainly in the very scorn of vainglory--and in this case it is not any longer the scorn of vainglory in which he glories, for he does not truly despise it when he inwardly glories in it.
[tr. Outler (1955)]
Even when [love of praise] is rebuked within myself by myself, it affords temptation by the very fact that it is rebuked. Often, out of very contempt of glory a man derives an emptier glory. No longer, therefore, does he glory in contempt of vainglory: he does not despise it, in as much as he glories over it.
[tr. Ryan (1960)]
Indeed [the love of praise] tempts me even in the very act of condemning it; often in our contempt of vainglory we are merely being all the more vainglorious, and so one cannot really say that one glories in the contempt of glory; for one does not feel contempt for something in which one glories.
[tr. Warner (1963)]
[Love of praise] is a temptation, even when shown up by myself and in myself. "Shown up" is the right word. It often boasts emptily over its very scorn for empty boasting, which thus ceases to be the scorn of which it boasts. The boaster does not in truth despise it, when he boasts about it.
[tr. Blaiklock (1983)]
[Hankering for praise] is a real temptation to me, and even when I am accusing myself of it, the very fact that I am accusing myself tempts me to further self-esteem. We can make our very contempt for vainglory a ground for preening ourselves more vainly still, which proves that what we are congratulating ourselves on is certainly not contempt for vainglory; for no one who indulges in it can be despising it.
[tr. Boulding (1997)]
What, then, is time? I know well enough what it is, provided that nobody asks me; but if I am asked what it is and try to explain, I am baffled.
[Quid est ergo tempus? Si nemo ex me quaerat, scio; si quaerenti explicare velim, nescio.]
Augustine of Hippo (354-430) Christian church father, philosopher, saint [b. Aurelius Augustinus]
Confessions, Book 11, ch. 14 / ¶ 17 (11.14.17) (c. AD 398) [tr. Pine-Coffin (1961)]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
What then is time? If no one asks me, I know: if I wish to explain it to one that asketh, I know not.
[tr. Pusey (1838)]
What then is time? If no one asks me, I know; if I wish to explain it to one that asketh, I know not.
[ed. Shedd (1860)]
What, then, is time? If no one ask of me, I know; if I wish to explain to him who asks, I know not.
[tr. Pilkington (1876)]
What then is time? If no one asks me, I know; if I want to explain it to a questioner, I do not know.
[tr. Sheed (1943)]
What, then, is time? If no one asks me, I know what it is. If I wish to explain it to him who asks me, I do not know.
[tr. Outler (1955)]
What, then, is time? If no one asks me, I know; if I want to explain it to someone who does ask me, I do not know.
[tr. Ryan (1960)]
What then is time? I know what it is if no one asks me what it is; but if I want to explain it to someone who has asked me, I find that I do not know.
[tr. Warner (1963)]
One does not read in the Gospel that the Lord said: ‘I will send you the Paraclete who will teach you about the course of the sun and moon.’ For He willed to make them Christians, not mathematicians.
Augustine of Hippo (354-430) Christian church father, philosopher, saint [b. Aurelius Augustinus]
De actis contra Felicem manichaeum [Answer to Felix, a Manichean], 1.10 (AD 404)
Alt. trans.:
- We do not read in the Gospel that the Lord said, ‘I will send the Paraclete to teach you the course of the sun and the moon’, in fact He wanted to create Christians not mathematicians.
- In the Gospel we do not read that the Lord said: I am sending you the Holy Spirit so that he can teach you about the course of the sun and the moon. He wanted to make Christians, not mathematicians.
Reckless and incompetent expounders of Holy Scripture bring untold trouble and sorrow on their wiser brethren when they are caught in one of their mischievous false opinions and are taken to task by those who are not bound by the authority of our sacred books. For then, to defend their utterly foolish and obviously untrue statements, they will try to call upon Holy Scripture for proof and even recite from memory many passages which they think support their position, although they understand neither what they say nor the things about which they make assertion.
[Quid enim molestiae tristitiaeque ingerant prudentibus fratribus temerarii praesumptores, satis dici non potest, cum si quando de prava et falsa opinatione sua reprehendi, et convinci coeperint ab eis qui nostrorum Librorum auctoritate non tenentur, ad defendendum id quod levissima temeritate et apertissima falsitate dixerunt, eosdem Libros sanctos, unde id probent, proferre conantur, vel etiam memoriter, quae ad testimonium valere arbitrantur, multa inde verba pronuntiant, non intellegentes neque quae loquuntur, neque de quibus affirmant.]
Augustine of Hippo (354-430) Christian church father, philosopher, saint [b. Aurelius Augustinus]
De Genesi ad Litteram, Bk. 1, ch. 19 [tr. Taylor (1982)]
Usually, even a non-Christian knows something about the earth, the heavens, and the other elements of this world, about the motion and orbit of the stars and even their size and relative positions, about the predictable eclipses of the sun and moon, the cycles of the years and the seasons, about the kinds of animals, shrubs, stones, and so forth, and this knowledge he hold to as being certain from reason and experience. Now, it is a disgraceful and dangerous thing for an infidel to hear a Christian, presumably giving the meaning of Holy Scripture, talking nonsense on these topics; and we should take all means to prevent such an embarrassing situation, in which people show up vast ignorance in a Christian and laugh it to scorn. […] If they find a Christian mistaken in a field which they themselves know well and hear him maintaining his foolish opinions about our books, how are they going to believe those books in matters concerning the resurrection of the dead, the hope of eternal life, and the kingdom of heaven, when they think their pages are full of falsehoods and on facts which they themselves have learnt from experience and the light of reason?
[Plerumque enim accidit ut aliquid de terra, de coelo, de caeteris mundi huius elementis, de motu et conversione vel etiam magnitudine et intervallis siderum, de certis defectibus solis ac lunae, de circuitibus annorum et temporum, de naturis animalium, fruticum, lapidum, atque huiusmodi caeteris, etiam non christianus ita noverit, ut certissima ratione vel experientia teneat. Turpe est autem nimis et perniciosum ac maxime cavendum, ut christianum de his rebus quasi secundum christianas Litteras loquentem, ita delirare audiat, ut, quemadmodum dicitur, toto coelo errare conspiciens, risum tenere vix possit. […] Cum enim quemquam de numero Christianorum in ea re quam optime norunt, errare comprehenderint, et vanam sententiam suam de nostris Libris asserere; quo pacto illis Libris credituri sunt, de resurrectione mortuorum, et de spe vitae aeternae, regnoque coelorum, quando de his rebus quas iam experiri, vel indubitatis numeris percipere potuerunt, fallaciter putaverint esse conscriptos?]
Augustine of Hippo (354-430) Christian church father, philosopher, saint [b. Aurelius Augustinus]
De Genesi ad Litteram, Bk. 1, ch. 19 [tr. Taylor (1982)]
In matters that are so obscure and far beyond our vision, we find in Holy Scripture passages which can be interpreted in very different ways without prejudice to the faith we have received. In such cases, we should not rush in headlong and so firmly take our stand on one side that, if further progress in the search for truth justly undermines this position, we too fall with it.
Augustine of Hippo (354-430) Christian church father, philosopher, saint [b. Aurelius Augustinus]
De Genesi ad Litteram, Bk. I, ch. 41 (AD 401) [tr. Taylor]
Suppress prostitution, and capricious lusts will overthrow society.
Augustine of Hippo (354-430) Christian church father, philosopher, saint [b. Aurelius Augustinus]
De Ordine, 2.4.12
Variant: "If you do away with harlots, the world will be convulsed with lust."
As the love increases in thee, so the loveliness increases: for love is itself the beauty of the soul.
Augustine of Hippo (354-430) Christian church father, philosopher, saint [b. Aurelius Augustinus]
Homilies on the 1st Epistle of John [Tractatus in epistulam Ioannis ad Parthos], Homily 9 [tr. Browne (1888)]
Sermon on 1 John 4:17-21. Alternate translations:
Beauty grows in you to the extent that love grows, because charity itself is the soul's beauty.
[tr. Ramsey (1990)]
Inasmuch as love grows in you, in so much beauty grows; for love is itself the beauty of the soul.
Once for all, then, a short precept is given thee: Love, and do what thou wilt: whether thou hold thy peace, through love hold thy peace; whether thou cry out, through love cry out; whether thou correct, through love correct; whether thou spare, through love do thou spare: let the root of love be within, of this root can nothing spring but what is good.
Augustine of Hippo (354-430) Christian church father, philosopher, saint [b. Aurelius Augustinus]
Homilies on the 1st Epistle of John Tractatus in epistulam Ioannis ad Parthos], Homily 7 [tr. Browne (1888)]
(Source)
Sermon on 1 John 4:4-12. "Love, and do what thou wilt" - Latin dilige et quod vis fac. Sometimes incorrectly given as "ama et fac quod vis." Alternate translation: "Love and then what you will, do." [tr. Fletcher]
Since you cannot do good to all, you are to pay special attention to those who, by the accidents of time, or place, or circumstances, are brought into closer connection with you.
Augustine of Hippo (354-430) Christian church father, philosopher, saint [b. Aurelius Augustinus]
On Christian Doctrine, 1.28
An unjust law is no law at all.
Augustine of Hippo (354-430) Christian church father, philosopher, saint [b. Aurelius Augustinus]
On Free Choice of the Will, Book I, sec. 5
To many, total abstinence is easier than perfect moderation.
[Multi quidem facilius se abstinent ut non utantur, quam temperent ut bene utantur.]
Augustine of Hippo (354-430) Christian church father, philosopher, saint [b. Aurelius Augustinus]
On the Good of Marriage, ch. 21 (AD 401)
Variant: "Complete abstinence is easier than perfect moderation."
Love the sinner and hate the sin.
[Cum dilectione hominum et odio vitiorum.]
Augustine of Hippo (354-430) Christian church father, philosopher, saint [b. Aurelius Augustinus]
Opera Omnia, Vol. II, col. 962, letter 211.
Faith is to believe what you do not see; the reward of this faith is to see what you believe.
[Est autem fides credere quod nondum vides; cuius fidei merces est videre quod credis.]
Augustine of Hippo (354-430) Christian church father, philosopher, saint [b. Aurelius Augustinus]
Sermons, 43.1.1
Variant: "For what is faith unless it is to believe what you do not see?"
When I am here, I do not fast on Saturday; when at Rome, I do fast on Saturday.
Augustine of Hippo (354-430) Christian church father, philosopher, saint [b. Aurelius Augustinus]
Epistle 36, to Casulanus
Be always displeased at what thou art, if thou desirest to attain to what thou art not.
Augustine of Hippo (354-430) Christian church father, philosopher, saint [b. Aurelius Augustinus]
Sermon 169
Alt. trans.: "Ever let that displease thee which thou art, if thou wouldest attain to what thou art not."
For you I am a bishop, but with you I am a Christian. The first is an office accepted; the second is a gift received. One is danger; the other is safety. If I am happier to be redeemed with you than to be placed over you, then I shall, as the Lord commanded, be more fully your servant.
Augustine of Hippo (354-430) Christian church father, philosopher, saint [b. Aurelius Augustinus]
Sermon 340
via Rev. Bonnie Spencer (favorite quote)
So give to the poor; I’m begging you, I’m warning you, I’m commanding you, I’m ordering you.
Augustine of Hippo (354-430) Christian church father, philosopher, saint [b. Aurelius Augustinus]
Sermon 61, para. 13
In some sources / arrangements, cited as Sermon 11. Full text.Alt trans.:
- "Give then to the poor; I beg, I advise, I charge, I command you. "
- "Therefore, give to the poor. I beg you, I admonish you, I charge you, I command you to give." [tr. Schopp, Deferrari (1951)]