Letter 1042: People say rightly that the human spirit shines on a bright day and turns sallow under heavy clouds.

Not without reason do people declare that the minds of men grow bright in the clear daylight, and that they turn golden when the cloud that has compressed them is gone. My own spirit has given proof of its good faith by example. For as often as I speak to you as my judgment dictates in words (the stock of which sometimes fails me elsewhere), I indulge myself. For gladness is a talkative thing and given to showing itself off; so much so that, for the greater part of mankind, there is no guard against this malady. Allow me, therefore, to keep chattering on about the things that pertain to your praises, O most distinguished of all the men there are on earth, you who strive with the greatest resources and with watchfulness on behalf of my affairs, and who persevere in friendship with steadfast diligence. If serious good faith has ever belonged to anyone, I think it belongs to you; whereas most people parade it in word but abandon it in deed. That sort of thing is of no use, except for talking. Deservedly do I reckon your advancements as part of my own account, since I am held by you in close and great care, and was so most of all. There remains, however, something which I should like to add to this zeal of mine toward you. I do not wish you to remember that I once grew angry with your heart. Love nourishes confidence. What is so free as friendship? For the most part, a complaint untainted by any breach of harmony is suited to dealings between friends. Thus it is as true that today I give you thanks, as that I could not conceal the thing over which I grieved. Their good faith is shaken who flatter without ceasing. But why do I unweave at greater length the very things which I wish you to forget? Be, as you are, ever of kindly disposition toward me, which I feel is rather to be hoped for from you than asked of you. Farewell.