First of all, then, to be frank, I almost regret myself that I published Folly. That little book has brought me fame, or reputation, if you prefer. But I've no use for fame combined with odium, and heaven knows, what is popularly called fame is nothing but an empty name and a legacy from paganism. Several expressions of this kind linger on amongst Christians, who give the name of immortality to the reputation one leaves to posterity, and virtue to a taste for the arts of any kind. My sole aim in publishing all my books has always been to do something useful by my industry, and if I can't achieve that, at least to do no harm. There are plenty of examples of men (even great ones) who abuse their learning to serve their passions, one singing his foolish loves, another using flattery to win favour, a third hitting back with his pen when provoked by insult, a fourth blowing his own trumpet and outdoing Thraso or Pyrgopolynices in singing his own praises.