Theodoret of Cyrrhus→Theodoret, of Cyrus, on Perseverance in Faith|c. 440 AD|theodoret cyrrhus
illnessmonasticism
To Cyrus.
I had heard of the island of Lesbos and of its cities — Mytilene, Methymna, and the rest — but I knew nothing of the wine it produces. Thanks to your thoughtfulness, I have now made its acquaintance, and I admire both its color and its delicate flavor. Perhaps time will improve it further, unless time turns it sour — for wine, like the human body, and like plants and buildings and all things made by hand, is in the end undone by time. If it really prolongs the life of those who drink it, as you say, I am not sure it will be of much use to me; I have no desire to live a long life, when the storms of life are as many and as hard as they are.
I was very glad to hear that the monk is recovering well. My worry for him had become quite painful, and I had been blaming the doctors unfairly — his condition called for exactly the treatment they prescribed.
I have sent you a small jar of honey, made by the bees of Cilicia from storax blossoms.
Letter 13
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To Cyrus.
I had heard of the island of Lesbos, and its cities Mitylene, Methymna, and the rest; but I was ignorant of the fruit of the vine cultivated in it. Now, thanks to your diligence, I have become acquainted with it, and I admire both its whiteness and the delicacy of its flavour. Perhaps time may even improve it, unless it turns it sour; for wine, like the body, and plants, and buildings, and other things made by hand, is damaged by time. If, as you say, it makes the drinker longlived, I am afraid it will be of little use to me, for I have no desire to live a long life, when life's storms are so many and so hard.
I was however much pleased to hear of the health of the monk. Really my anxiety about him was quite distressing, and I wrongly blamed the doctors, for his complaint required the treatment they gave. I have sent you a little pot of honey which the Cilician bees make from storax flowers.
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To Cyrus.
I had heard of the island of Lesbos and of its cities — Mytilene, Methymna, and the rest — but I knew nothing of the wine it produces. Thanks to your thoughtfulness, I have now made its acquaintance, and I admire both its color and its delicate flavor. Perhaps time will improve it further, unless time turns it sour — for wine, like the human body, and like plants and buildings and all things made by hand, is in the end undone by time. If it really prolongs the life of those who drink it, as you say, I am not sure it will be of much use to me; I have no desire to live a long life, when the storms of life are as many and as hard as they are.
I was very glad to hear that the monk is recovering well. My worry for him had become quite painful, and I had been blaming the doctors unfairly — his condition called for exactly the treatment they prescribed.
I have sent you a small jar of honey, made by the bees of Cilicia from storax blossoms.
Modern English rendering for readability. See the 19th-century translation or original Latin/Greek for scholarly use.