Letters 115.14

Even among the Greek tragic poets there are some who regard pelf as better than purity, soundness, or good report:

Call me a scoundrel, only call me rich!

All ask how great my riches are, but none Whether my soul is good.

None asks the means or source of your estate, But merely how it totals.

All men are worth as much as what they own.

What is most shameful for us to possess? Nothing!

If riches bless me, I should love to live; Yet I would rather die, if poor.

A man dies nobly in pursuit of wealth.

Money, that blessing to the race of man, Cannot be matched by mother’s love, or lisp Of children, or the honour due one’s sire. And if the sweetness of the lover’s glance Be half so charming, Love will rightly stir The hearts of gods and men to adoration.

Seneca, Letters to Lucilius 115.14, translated by Richard Mott Gummere