Since we do not know how to bear injury, let us endeavor not to receive one. We should live with a very calm and good-natured person — one who is never worried or captious; we adopt our habits from those with whom we associate, and as certain diseases of the body spread to others from contact, so the mind transmits its faults to those nearby. The drunkard lures his boon companions into love of wine; shameless company corrupts even the strong man and, perchance, the hero; avarice transfers its poison to its neighbors. The same principle holds good of the virtues, but with the opposite result — that they ameliorate whatever comes in contact with them; an invalid does not benefit so much from a suitable location or a more healthful climate as does the mind which lacks strength from association with a better company. You will understand what a powerful factor this is if you observe that even wild animals grow tame from intercourse with us, and that all beasts, no matter how savage, after enduring long companionship with man cease to be violent; all their fierceness is blunted and gradually amid peaceful conditions is forgotten. Moreover, the man who lives with tranquil people not only becomes better from their example, but finding no occasions for anger he does not indulge in his weakness. It will, therefore, be a man’s duty to avoid all those who he knows will provoke his anger. “Just whom do you mean?” you ask. There are many who from various causes will produce the same result. The proud man will offend you by his scorn, the caustic man by an insult, the forward man by an affront, the spiteful man by his malice, the contentious by his wrangling, the windy liar by his hollowness; you will not endure to be feared by a suspicious man, to be outdone by a stubborn one, or to be despised by a coxcomb. Choose frank, good-natured, temperate people, who will not call forth your anger and yet will bear with it. Still more helpful will be those who are yielding and kindly and suave — not, however, to the point of fawning, for too much cringing incenses hot-tempered people. I, at any rate, had a friend, a good man, but too prone to anger, whom it was not less dangerous to wheedle than to curse.
It is well known that Caelius, the orator, was very hot-tempered. A client of rare forbearance was, as the story goes, once dining with Caelius in his chamber, but it was difficult for him, having got into such close quarters, to avoid a quarrel with the companion at his side; so he decided that it was best to agree with whatever Caelius said and to play up to him. Caelius, however, could not endure his compliant attitude, and cried out, “Contradict me, that there may be two of us!” But even he, angry because he was not angered, quickly subsided when he had no antagonist. Consequently, if we are conscious of being hot-tempered, let us rather pick out those who will be guided by our looks and by our words. Such men, it is true, will pamper us and lead us into the harmful habit of hearing nothing that we do not like, but there will be the advantage of giving our weakness a period of respite. Even those who are churlish and intractable by nature will endure caressing; no creature is savage and frightened if you stroke it. Whenever a discussion tends to be too long or too quarrelsome, let us check it at the start before it gains strength. Controversy grows of itself and holds fast those that have plunged in too deeply. It is easier to refrain than to retreat from a struggle.