diary / by Edward Mullany


I have a friend who has told me he reads passages from a book by Marcus Aurelius every night, before he goes to bed, so that by now, at this stage in his life, he thinks he must have read the volume in its entirety more times than he could count on one hand, although, because he leafs through it at random, and reads whatever entry his gaze happens to fall upon, he is certain that he has read some parts of it more frequently than other parts, although, he also says, after he has told me this, that all of the wisdom in it is the same, or is of one piece, so that, regardless of the subject of any given paragraph, be it friendship, or misfortune, or love, or old age, the effect on the reader doesn’t vary, but remains what it has always been.