Philosophy of Friendship

“We’ve been friends for a long time, haven’t we, Cicero?” Aristotle asked.

The Roman orator smiled in reply.”Impossibly long, some would say. Why do you ask?”

The two philosophers were strolling through a Roman replica of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon. It had been a particularly pleasant spring afternoon and the two had decided, after lunch, to take advantage of the fine weather while they could.

They walked under a marble gazebo, admiring the flowering shrub of Anemone Coronaria growing nearby.

Aristotle continued, “Friendship, you know, is a slow ripening fruit and I’m happy that our friendship has survived through the ages. ”

Cicero nodded in agreement. “Although we dwell in practically different worlds, we do tend to speak with one mind at times. And I do enjoy the times we spend together.”

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His fingers traced along a stone maiden, one of the nine pillars forming a circle around the gazebo. He continued: “A friend is, as it were, a second self. You, Aristotle, are one of my very best friends.” At this thought, Cicero paused in thought and closed his eyes to bask in the sunlight that poured in through the pillars.

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Aristotle cleared his throat and averted his gaze towards the Anemone shrubs. “We are, as it were, a single soul dwelling in two bodies,” he declared.

Then, swallowing deeply, he continued. “Cicero, my friend,” he began.

Cicero turned to face Aristotle. “Yes, my Greek BFF?”

“Cicero, I was wondering if you could advance me some funds until next payday?”

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