Letter 35
Your letter reached me at Capua and gave me pure delight. It had a charm spread like Ciceronian honey, and its praise of my own writing was flattering — if not entirely accurate. I honestly can't decide what to admire more: the beauty of your language or the kindness of your heart.
Your eloquence is so far above everyone else's that it's intimidating to write back. And yet you approve of my work so generously that silence feels impossible. If I praised you at length, I'd look like I was scratching your back — imitating the form of your compliments rather than honestly assessing them.
Modern English rendering for readability. See the 19th-century translation or original Latin/Greek for scholarly use.
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