1I grow and exult and, shaking off old age, I grow warm again whenever I understand from what you are doing and writing how far you have surpassed yourself, for the crowd you had left behind long ago. 1If a tree brought to bear fruit delights the farmer, if a shepherd takes pleasure from the young of his flock, if no one looks upon his foster-child except in such a way as to judge that child's youth his own; 1what do you think happens to those who have trained minds, and suddenly see grown up what they shaped while it was tender? 2I claim you for myself; 2you are my work.
2When I had seen your character, I laid my hand on you, urged you on, applied the spurs, and did not allow you to go slowly, but kept goading you on; 2and now I do the same, but by now I am urging one who is already running, and who urges me in turn. 3'What else?' 3you say; 3'So far I only have the will.' 3In this lies the greatest part, not in the way in which beginnings are said to take up half of the whole task; 3this matter rests on the mind. 3And so a great part of goodness is the will to become good. 3Do you know whom I call good?
3The perfect, complete man, whom no force, no necessity, can make bad. 4Such a man I foresee in you, if you persevere and apply yourself and make it your aim that all your deeds and words agree with one another, correspond to each other, and are struck from a single die. 4That man's mind is not upright whose actions are at odds. 4Farewell.