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From which I was affected by such great pleasure of mind, as I had previously been by sadness, by which I was sufficiently tormented. For I noticed that certain men of our age, praised to the stars by the crowd of common philosophers with titles of wisdom, have in this matter been of no small harm to literary studies and have brought themselves and not a few followers to ruin. Nor is it a wonder, for it is the habit—common indeed to many who dedicate themselves to literature—to consider no one worthy of the name of wisdom unless they have always held the books of Aristotle or Averroes or only those of a few of their own sect in their hands, and those, moreover, written in barbarous style.