My Secret Book: Francis Petrarch
A: Well, this is the plague which infects you, and which is set to ruin you, if you do not do something about it: your frail mind, overwhelmed by its illusions and its many and varied obsessions, all fighting among themselves, cannot decide which to bother with first, which to encourage, which to repel; all the vigour of your mind, with all the little time it is allowed, is not enough for that. What happens when someone sows too many seeds in a small space- the plants harm each other because they are too close together- is happening with you: your mind is so preoccupied that nothing useful or fruitful can take root. You lack all discernment, and you veer this way and that in a very strange fashion, never single-minded and never healthy. Your mind, for all its nobility, and innate understanding, whenever it manages to think deeply about death and whatever else might lead it to the true life, is distracted by a mass of varied obsessions. This is why your good but inconstant intentions fail, and it is from this that the internal discord arises of which I have often spoken, and that anxiety of the soul that is irritated with itself, horrified by its own filth but is unwilling to wash itself, aware of the crookedness of its ways but not about to abandon them, and afraid of the danger that threatens but not willing to avoid it.
F: How wretched I am! Now you are really probing my wound. You know my torment, and you know why I fear death.
A: We have done enough talking for today, and we need a rest. If you agree, we shall postpone anything else we have to say until tomorrow, and relax now in silence.
F: I am very tired, and that is just what I need: peace and quiet.
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I cannot wait for the next chapter. this will be the best book I've ever read in my entire life.
for someone who is rarely overwhelmed, this is big. very big.
