Dear Sir,

Having performed the last reluctant office of taking leave of you, after an evening in which our friendship had begun, perhaps, to assume a more endearing character, I watched you depart and turned upon my heel, more thoughtful than ever. I must say, the glass of wine you offered had tempted me—I confess I would gladly have taken it—but there are pleasures whose sweetness lies too near the source of that mischief against which I have so long guarded myself. Therefore, I refused it, not from the lack of desire, but from the conviction that some doors, once wisely closed, ought not be opened again. I am fairly certain you must now be thinking what a dull and stubborn man I have become, having declined so innocent a glass. Yet, by way of explanation—and perhaps a little in my own defence—I should like to share with you the dialogue that passed silently within me: between my Heart, animated by passion and eager for the pleasures of the moment, and Head, instructed by reason and somewhat chastened by experience.

HEART:
Why must we forever refuse the glass? Wine has, from the earliest ages, been the companion of friendship, festivity, and cheerful conversation. Must we alone proscribe a pleasure so ancient, so universal, and, in its innocent measure, so agreeable?

HEAD:
I wage no war against the glass, nor against those who find an innocent pleasure in it. My objection is of another kind. I fear not so much the moment of intoxication as the habit of seeking refuge in it. Whatever repeatedly delivers a man from the necessity of confronting, in sobriety, his own uneasiness may, by degrees scarcely perceived, weaken his resolution to confront its cause. What begins as recreation may, in time, become retreat; and that retreat, repeated often enough, may grow into a habit, until it overwhelms and corrupts those natural faculties by which the mind confronts its difficulties and life rightfully corrects its course.

HEART:
I understand your concerns, but surely life was not intended to be governed by reason and discipline alone. The heart too has its claims. It asks sometimes to be relieved of its watchfulness, to surrender itself for an hour to ease and good cheer.

HEAD:
And I would grant you these willingly—but let us seek them in friendship, in music, in laughter, in the contemplation of nature, and in those pleasures which are derived from and call forth the higher faculties of our nature rather than indulge the lower. There are pursuits which enlarge the mind, strengthen the character, and leave us more fully in possession of ourselves; and there are others which purchase an hour’s ease at the expense of those very powers. So long as I remain the head, and to me is entrusted the command of our actions, I shall keep our course directed toward those pursuits which call forth the higher self. You, therefore, must learn to accommodate your desires to what is virtuous, morally right, and worthy of the faculties with which God has endowed our being. I do not ask you to cease desiring pleasure; I ask only that you learn to find pleasure in that which elevates rather than diminishes us.

HEART:
Then you condemn us to a life of perpetual restraint?

HEAD:
You mistake restraint for preference. There was, perhaps, a time when refusing the glass required some exertion of the will; but that time has long since passed. I have come to prefer clarity to intoxication, self-command to indulgence, and the full possession of my faculties to their willing surrender. What was once an exercise of discipline has, through long habit, become a liberty of its own. None of this should be news to you. We have lived in this manner long enough, and long ago came to an understanding that we should keep ourselves apart from the source of that temptation. Yet now, after a few pleasant hours in the company of our good friend, you suddenly revive questions which I had supposed settled between us. Must I forever remind you of agreements to which you yourself were once a willing party?

HEART:
Yes, I understand you; and yet I confess that tonight the wine held an uncommon temptation. And still you would have us refuse it?

HEAD:
For that very reason. Prudence does not require that we cease to desire them; only that we know when desire ought not command us. The glass may quiet an uneasiness for an hour; but, in doing so, it may also cloud that very clarity by which we discover its cause and summon the resolution necessary to correct it. A man who too readily softens his discomfort may, by degrees scarcely perceived, lose the necessity of overcoming it. And what follows then? Complacency first; sloth thereafter; and, by slow and almost imperceptible degrees, a departure from those pursuits which give purpose and meaning to life. The lower inclinations of our nature ask only for ease and immediate gratification; the higher demand perseverance, patience, and self-command. As the head, I would be a poor guardian of our faculties indeed if, knowing this distinction, I willingly surrendered their government to such lower inclinations.

HEART:
And when the glass is offered again?

HEAD:
We shall thank them with sincerity, and decline it without severity. If occasion permits, we may sweetly explain the reasons for our refusal; but if our friend has already surrendered too freely to the glass, that hour is scarcely suited to the counsels of our reason. We shall reserve our explanation for another day, when the mind is again in full possession of itself and friendship may hear us without mistaking concern for reproach. Yet we must remember that our conduct will speak more persuasively than our words. To lecture our friends upon temperance while merely describing its virtues may leave but a faint impression; to sit cheerfully among them, to partake fully of their friendship, and yet quietly refuse the glass, is to show that pleasure, fellowship, and good cheer stand in no need of intoxication. Let us therefore persuade, where we can, by the example of our own conduct; for virtue exhibited in action often teaches more effectively, and more lastingly, than virtue recommended by words.

Respectfully yours,

Şahin Arıkoğlu

Istanbul
August 2026