For the circumstances by which
pleasures are generated are not in the power of a wise man; for happiness
does not consist in wisdom itself, but in those things which wisdom
provides for the production of pleasure. And all these circumstances are
external; and what is external is liable to accident. And thus fortune is
made the mistress of happiness in life,--Fortune, which, Epicurus says, has
but little to do with a wise man.

XXVIII. But you will say, Come, these things are trifles. Nature by
herself enriches the wise man; and, indeed, Epicurus has taught us that
the riches of nature are such as can be acquired. This is well said, and I
do not object to it; but still these same assertions are inconsistent with
one another. For Epicurus denies there is less pleasure derived from the
poorest food, from the most despised kinds of meat and drink, than from
feasting on the most delicious dishes. Now if he were to assert that it
makes no difference as to the happiness of life what food a man ate, I
would grant it, I would even praise him for saying so; for he would be
speaking the truth; and I know that Socrates, who ranked pleasure as
nothing at all, said the same thing, namely, that hunger was the best
seasoning for meat, and thirst for drink. But I do not comprehend how a
man who refers everything to pleasure, lives like Gallonius, and yet talks
like that great man Frugi Piso; nor, indeed, do I believe that what he
says is his real opinion. He has said that natural riches can be acquired,
because nature is contented with a little. Certainly, unless you estimate
pleasure at a great value. No less pleasure, says he, is derived from the
most ordinary things than from the most valuable. Now to say this, is not
only not to have a heart, but not to have even a palate. For they who
despise pleasure itself, may be allowed to say that they do not prefer a
sturgeon to a herring. But the man who places his chief good in pleasure,
must judge of everything by his sensations, not by his reason, and must
pronounce those things best which are most pleasant.

However, be it so. Let him acquire the greatest possible pleasures, not
only at a cheap rate, but, as far as I am concerned, for nothing at all,
if he can manage it. Let there be no less pleasure in eating a nasturtium,
which Xenophon tells us the Persians used to eat, than in those Syracusan
banquets which are so severely blamed by Plato. Let, I say, the
acquisition of pleasure be a