There are veiled implications in the personality of the person who, through philosophy, reaches the rigidity of character of a Socrates, a Seneca, capable of facing their own death with serenity and indifference. The indifference of someone like this, in practice, cannot be understood by those who have not reached it, and this is why the discourse of such wise men tends to hurt. There is something unacceptably and frighteningly unnatural about this attitude, which only solidifies after the annihilation of a human dimension. May it be wisdom to shield oneself from the world, to be unaffected by any of its troubles; but this imperturbable marble, this materialization of passive pessimism, of not acting, not feeling, not wanting, and not suffering, although it achieves a victory of reason over instinct, simultaneously operates a human mutilation, and it is perhaps less painful, for those who cherish him and are around him, that he is never allowed to sing of such a victory.