After these calamities all my hopes, all my delight were centred on my little Quintilian, and he might have sufficed to console me.
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[9]
I am, therefore, grateful to the grief that came to
me some few months before his loss in the death
of his mother, the best of women, whose virtues
were beyond all praise. For I have less reason to
weep my own fate than to rejoice at hers.
Quintilian. With An English Translation. Harold Edgeworth Butler. Cambridge. Cambridge, Mass., Harvard University Press; London, William Heinemann, Ltd. 1921.
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