Letter 1026: A defense of silence that turns rebuke into affection and grief into renewed correspondence.

Perhaps you thought I would take badly the charges you brought against me in your letter. They were that I had not written for a long time and had not honored you with this mark of respect, even though you were present in many ways and had been honored by me in many ways. I, however, took these words as praise and was delighted, as a praised man naturally is. I even showed the letter to my friends with all eagerness, wanting them to know your affection; they rejoiced with me when they saw it. So you did not hurt me at all, but delighted me greatly, and if I am not going to write, I would gladly receive letters like that. You have always and everywhere been precious to me: here, in the Great City, traveling by land and by sea, silent and speaking, a man who has come to this day with justice and has placed no small glory around me by your own reputation. We have always remembered you, and always with praise. Writing to you was blocked for me by Fortune, who chose that I should weep instead of write. Was he not worthy to be mourned, he who was mine, if indeed he came from me and his mother did not prevent it? When he was carried to Tarsus as he was, then carried back to us with that suffering, and after not many days carried to the coffin, it is no wonder that I stopped writing letters. But since you say strongly that you are wronged by not receiving them, I have obeyed. Let what seems right to you be stronger than the troubles now surrounding me.