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Confessions

 

            In Confessions, Augustine was "dead" inside searching for something to fill the void in his soul. This evident occurs as a result of the death of this dear friend, in which he identifies "friendship with mortal things" as being nothing more than misery. Augustine attempts to heal himself by filling his void with other mortal things, such as conversation and money, which seems harmless or even admirable. Finally, he realized that he could not heal himself or make himself whole, but there was one who could. .
             Augustine's relative happiness in book four of Confessions was marred by a tragedy that occurs to a close friend of his. The death of his friend has left him devastated and inconsolable, but realizes that his grief would have been alleviated by faith of god. After talking about this tragic incident, Augustine tries to explain his love for his friend was morally problematic in the first place. He believes that the sole cause of his misery lies in the fact that he loves his friend with the kind of love that should have been reserved for God alone. As a result his misery was a result of unreasonable attachment to mortal things. To understand where Augustine is coming from, he makes distinction a between use and enjoyment, in which enjoyment signifies the type of love for a thing that is sought for its own sake, while use represents the love for something sought after for the sake of something else. Therefore, to enjoy something is to value or desire it as an end in itself and to use something, on the other hand, is to value it as a means of obtaining something higher. It should come as no surprise that Augustine believes that God alone should be enjoyed, while the world and everything in it should used as a means of enjoying God. .
             During the time of mourning, Augustine becomes attached to other mortal things despite the lessons he learned from his grief. His attachment the other mortal things can also bad and can bring on more misery, because every material thing, no matter how beautiful, is demarcated by a beginning and an end.


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