Etica — A Nicomaco

“No,” Theodoros said, breathless. “This is the man I might become.”

But that night, he could not sleep. He walked to the agora and found an old philosopher sitting alone by the fountain, whittling a piece of olive wood. It was Aristotle. etica a nicomaco

Aristotle did not look up from his whittling. “You have confused the mean with mediocrity, Theodoros. The mean is not average. It is precision .” “No,” Theodoros said, breathless