Enchiridion

[1.1] Some things are up to us, and some are not up to us. Up to us are judgment, impulse, desire, aversion, and, in a word, whatever is our own doing; not up to us are the body, possessions, reputation, offices, and, in a word, whatever is not our own doing.

[1.2] The things up to us are by nature free, unhindered, and unimpeded; the things not up to us are weak, enslaved, subject to hindrance, and not our own.

[1.3] Remember, then, that if you suppose what is by nature enslaved to be free, and what is not your own to be your own, you will be hindered, you will mourn, you will be troubled, and you will blame both gods and human beings. But if you suppose only what is yours to be yours, and what is not your own to be, as it truly is, not your own, no one will ever compel you, no one will hinder you; you will blame no one, accuse no one, and do nothing against your will; no one will harm you, and you will have no enemy, for you will suffer no harm.

[1.4] Since you aspire to such great things, remember that you must not undertake them with only moderate effort, but must give up some things altogether and postpone others for the present. But if you want these things and at the same time want office and wealth, you may well fail to obtain even office and wealth because you aspire to the former things as well; and you will certainly fail to attain those things through which alone freedom and happiness are secured.

[1.5] Therefore, whenever a harsh impression strikes you, train yourself to say to it at once, “You are an impression, and not necessarily what you appear to be.” Then examine it and test it by the standards you possess, first and above all by this one: whether it concerns things that are up to us or things that are not up to us. And if it concerns anything not up to us, let this thought be ready at hand: “It is nothing to me.”

[2.1] Remember that desire promises the attainment of what you desire, while aversion promises that you will not fall into what you seek to avoid; and the person who fails in desire is unfortunate, while the person who falls into what he seeks to avoid is miserable. If, then, you avoid only what is contrary to nature among the things up to you, you will fall into none of the things you seek to avoid. But if you seek to avoid illness, death, or poverty, you will be miserable.

[2.2] Remove your aversion, then, from everything not up to us, and transfer it to what is contrary to nature among the things up to us. For the present, suppress desire altogether; for if you desire anything not up to us, you are bound to be unfortunate, while none of the things up to us that it would be noble to desire is yet within your reach. Make use only of impulse to act and impulse not to act, and even these lightly, with reservation, and without strain.

[3.1] With everything that delights you, serves a use, or is dear to you, remember to tell yourself what kind of thing it is, beginning with the smallest things. If you are fond of a pot, say, “I am fond of a pot”; for when it is broken, you will not be troubled. If you kiss your child or your wife, say, “I am kissing a human being”; for when that person dies, you will not be troubled.

[4.1] Whenever you are about to undertake some action, remind yourself what kind of action it is. If you are going out to bathe, set before your mind the things that happen at a public bath: people splashing water, jostling one another, hurling abuse, and stealing. You will undertake the action more securely if you say to yourself at the outset, “I want to bathe, and I also want to preserve my moral purpose in accordance with nature.” And do the same with every action. For then, if anything hinders you from bathing, this thought will be ready at hand: “But bathing was not the only thing I wanted; I also wanted to preserve my moral purpose in accordance with nature. And I will not preserve it if I become indignant at what happens.”

[5.1] People are troubled not by things, but by their judgments about things. Death, for example, is nothing terrible, or else it would have appeared so even to Socrates. Rather, the judgment that death is terrible—that is what is terrible. Therefore, whenever we are hindered, troubled, or distressed, let us never blame anyone else, but ourselves—that is, our own judgments. It is the act of an uneducated person to blame others for his own bad condition; of one who has begun his education, to blame himself; and of one whose education is complete, to blame neither another nor himself.

[6.1] Do not take pride in any excellence that is not your own. If a horse were to say proudly, “I am beautiful,” that would be bearable. But when you say proudly, “I have a beautiful horse,” know that you are taking pride in a good quality belonging to the horse. What, then, is your own? The use you make of impressions. Thus, when you conduct yourself in accordance with nature in your use of impressions, then you may take pride; for then you will be taking pride in a good quality that is truly your own.

[7.1] When a ship lies at anchor on a voyage and you go ashore for water, you may pick up a little shellfish or a bulb along the way; but your mind must remain fixed on the ship, and you must keep looking back, lest the captain call. And if he calls, you must leave all those things behind, so that you are not thrown aboard bound like a sheep. So it is in life as well: if, instead of a bulb and a shellfish, you are given a wife and child, nothing prevents you from accepting them. But if the captain calls, run to the ship, leaving all those things behind without even looking back. And if you are old, never stray far from the ship, lest you fail to answer when he calls.

[8.1] Do not seek to have events happen as you wish, but wish them to happen as they do happen, and your life will go smoothly.

[9.1] Illness is an impediment to the body, but not to moral purpose, unless moral purpose itself so wills. Lameness is an impediment to the leg, but not to moral purpose. Say this to yourself about everything that befalls you; for you will find that it is an impediment to something else, but not to you.

[10.1] With everything that befalls you, remember to turn inward and ask what capacity you possess for making proper use of it. If you see a beautiful man or woman, you will find self-control as the capacity to meet it. If hardship is laid upon you, you will find endurance; if abuse, you will find forbearance. And when you have trained yourself in this way, your impressions will not sweep you away.

[11.1] Never say of anything, “I have lost it,” but rather, “I have given it back.” Has your child died? It was given back. Has your wife died? She was given back. Has your farm been taken away? Then this too was given back. “But the man who took it is wicked.” What concern is it of yours through whom the giver demanded its return? So long as he gives it to you, care for it as something not your own, as travelers care for an inn.

[12.1] If you wish to make progress, abandon such reflections as these: “If I neglect my affairs, I shall have no means of support”; “If I do not punish my servant, he will turn out badly.” For it is better to die of hunger, free from grief and fear, than to live amid abundance in a state of turmoil. And it is better for your servant to be bad than for you to be miserable.

[12.2] Begin, then, with little things. A little oil is spilled; a little wine is stolen. Say to yourself, “This is the price of freedom from passion; this is the price of tranquility.” Nothing is gained for nothing. And when you call your servant, bear in mind that he may not answer, and that even if he answers, he may do none of the things you want. But he is not so well placed that your freedom from disturbance should depend on him.

[13.1] If you wish to make progress, endure being thought foolish and stupid with regard to external things. Do not wish to appear knowledgeable; and even if some people think you are somebody, distrust yourself. For know that it is not easy both to preserve your faculty of choice in accordance with nature and to attend to external things; if you care for one, you are bound to neglect the other.

[14.1] If you wish your children, your wife, and your friends to live forever, you are foolish; for you wish things not under your control to be under your control, and things belonging to others to be your own. In the same way, if you wish your servant never to do wrong, you are a fool; for you wish vice not to be vice, but something else. Yet if you wish never to fail in attaining what you desire, that is within your power. Practice, then, what is within your power.

[14.2] The master of each person is whoever has the power to secure or take away the things that person desires or wishes to avoid. Whoever, then, wishes to be free must neither desire nor seek to avoid anything that is under the control of others; otherwise, he must necessarily be a slave.

[15.1] Remember that you must conduct yourself as at a banquet. Has something being passed around come to you? Reach out your hand and take your share with decorum. Is it passing you by? Do not hold it back. Has it not yet reached you? Do not cast your desire forward toward it, but wait until it comes to you. Act this way toward children, toward a wife, toward offices, toward wealth, and someday you will be worthy to share the banquet of the gods. But if, even when these things are set before you, you do not take them but disdain them, then you will be not only a guest at the banquet of the gods but also a partner in their rule. For by acting in this way Diogenes, Heraclitus, and men like them deservedly were divine and were called so.

[16.1] When you see someone weeping in grief because his child is away from home or because he has lost his possessions, take care that you are not swept away by the impression that he is beset by external misfortunes. Instead, let this thought be ready at hand: “What distresses this man is not what has happened—for it does not distress another—but his judgment about it.” Yet do not hesitate to sympathize with him in words and, if occasion calls for it, even to groan with him; but take care that you do not groan inwardly as well.

[17.1] Remember that you are an actor in a play of whatever kind the playwright wishes: if a short one, then in a short play; if a long one, then in a long play. If he wishes you to play a beggar, see that you play even this part skillfully; and likewise if your part is a cripple, a magistrate, or a private citizen. For this is your business: to play well the role that has been given to you. But to choose that role belongs to another.

[18.1] When a raven croaks an ill omen, do not let the impression sweep you away. At once distinguish within yourself and say, “None of these signs concerns me, but only my poor body, my little property, my paltry reputation, my children, or my wife. For me every sign is auspicious, if I wish it to be; for whatever may result from these things, it is within my power to profit from it.”

[19.1] You can be invincible if you enter no contest in which victory is not under your control.

[19.2] Take care that, when you see someone preferred above others, wielding great power, or held in high esteem in some other way, you are not swept away by the impression and pronounce him blessed. For if the essence of the good lies in things under our control, there is no place for either envy or jealousy; and you yourself will not wish to be a general, a chief magistrate, or a consul, but to be free. And there is only one road to freedom: contempt for the things not under our control.

[20.1] Remember that it is not the person who reviles or strikes you who insults you, but your judgment that such people are insulting you. Therefore, whenever someone provokes you, know that it is your own opinion that has provoked you. Above all, then, try not to be swept away by the impression; for if once you gain time and delay, you will more easily master yourself.

[21.1] Let death and exile and everything that appears terrible be daily before your eyes, above all death; and you will never entertain any abject thought or desire anything to excess.

[22.1] If you desire philosophy, prepare yourself from the outset to be ridiculed and mocked by many, and to hear them say, “He has suddenly come back to us a philosopher,” and, “Where did he get that lofty brow?” But do not put on a lofty brow. Hold fast, rather, to the things that seem best to you, as one appointed by God to this station. And remember that if you remain steadfast in the same principles, those who formerly ridiculed you will afterward admire you; but if you yield to them, you will incur ridicule twice over.

[23.1] If ever you happen to turn outward, desiring to please someone, know that you have lost your position. Be content, then, in everything, simply to be a philosopher; and if you also wish to appear one, appear so to yourself, and that will be enough.

[24.1] Do not let these reflections distress you: “I shall live without honor and be nobody anywhere.” For if lack of honor is an evil, you can no more be involved in evil through another person than in disgrace. Is it any business of yours, then, to obtain public office or to be invited to a banquet? Not at all. How, then, can this still be a lack of honor? And how will you be nobody anywhere, when you need be somebody only in those things that are up to you, in which it is possible for you to be a person of the greatest worth?

[24.2] “But your friends will be left without help.” What do you mean by “without help”? They will receive no small change from you, nor will you make them Roman citizens. But who told you that these things are among those that are up to us, rather than being the business of others? And who can give another what he does not possess himself? “Acquire them, then,” someone says, “so that we may have them.”

[24.3] If I can acquire them while preserving myself as self-respecting, trustworthy, and noble-minded, show me the way, and I will acquire them. But if you expect me to lose the good things that are my own so that you may secure things that are not good, see for yourselves how unfair and ungrateful you are. And which do you really want more: money, or a trustworthy and self-respecting friend? Help me, then, toward the latter instead, and do not expect me to act in ways that will make me cast away those very qualities.

[24.4] “But my country,” someone says, “so far as it depends on me, will be left without help.” Again, what kind of help do you mean? It will have no colonnades or baths through you. And what of it? It does not have shoes through the blacksmith, either, or weapons through the shoemaker; it is enough if each person fulfills his own function. And if you furnished your country with another citizen who was trustworthy and self-respecting, would you not benefit it at all? “Yes.” Then neither would you yourself be useless to it. “What place, then,” he says, “shall I have in the city?” Whatever place you can hold while at the same time preserving the trustworthy and self-respecting man.

[24.5] But if, in your desire to benefit your country, you cast these qualities away, what benefit could you be to it once you had become shameless and untrustworthy?

[25.1] Has someone been preferred to you at a banquet, in being greeted, or in being invited to give counsel? If these things are good, you ought to rejoice that he has obtained them; but if they are bad, do not be distressed that you have not obtained them. And remember that if you do not do the same things others do to obtain what is not up to us, you cannot claim an equal share of it.

[25.2] For how can the person who does not frequent someone’s door have an equal share with the person who does? Or the person who does not escort him with the person who does? Or the person who does not praise him with the person who does? You will therefore be unjust and greedy if, without paying the price for which those things are sold, you wish to receive them free of charge.

[25.3] But how much do lettuces sell for? An obol, perhaps. If someone pays the obol and receives the lettuces, while you do not pay it and do not receive them, do not imagine that you have less than the person who received them. For just as he has the lettuces, so you have the obol you did not give.

[25.4] It is the same in this case. You were not invited to someone’s banquet? That is because you did not pay the host the price for which he sells his dinner. He sells it for praise; he sells it for obsequious attention. Pay the price, then, if it is to your advantage, for which it is sold. But if you wish both to withhold the payment and to receive the goods, you are greedy and foolish.

[25.5] Have you nothing, then, in place of the dinner? Indeed you have: you did not praise the man you did not wish to praise, and you did not have to endure the treatment handed out at his door.

[26.1] The will of nature may be learned from those matters in which we do not differ from one another. For example, when another person’s little slave breaks a cup, the ready response is, “These things happen.” Know, then, that when your own cup is broken, you ought to be just as you were when another person’s was broken. Apply the same principle to greater matters. Someone else’s child or wife has died. There is no one who would not say, “Such is the human lot.” But when one’s own child or wife dies, the immediate cry is, “Alas! Wretched me!” Yet we ought to remember how we feel when we hear that the same thing has happened to others.

[27.1] Just as a target is not set up in order to be missed, so no nature of evil comes into being in the universe.

[28.1] If someone entrusted your body to any passerby, you would be indignant. Yet you entrust your own mind to anyone at all, so that if he abuses you, it is troubled and thrown into confusion. Are you not ashamed of this?

[29.1] In every undertaking, consider what comes before it and what follows it, and only then set your hand to it. Otherwise, you will approach it eagerly at first, because you have given no thought to what comes afterward; but later, when difficulties appear, you will shamefully abandon it. Do you wish to win at Olympia?

[29.2] So do I, by the gods; for it is a splendid thing. But consider what comes before it and what follows it, and only then undertake the task. You must submit to discipline, eat according to strict rules, abstain from cakes, exercise under compulsion at an appointed hour, in heat and in cold, drink no cold water and no wine whenever you please; in short, you must surrender yourself to your trainer as to a physician. Then, in the contest, you may be gashed, sometimes have your hand dislocated, twist your ankle, swallow a great deal of dust, sometimes be whipped, and, after all this, be defeated.

[29.3] After considering all this, if you still wish it, proceed to become an athlete. Otherwise, you will behave like children, who at one moment play wrestlers, then gladiators, then blow trumpets, and then act tragedies. So you too will be an athlete now, then a gladiator, then an orator, then a philosopher, but nothing with your whole soul. Like an ape, you imitate every spectacle you see, and one thing after another takes your fancy. For you have approached nothing after careful consideration and a complete examination, but at random and from a listless desire.

[29.4] In the same way, some people, after seeing a philosopher and hearing someone speak as Euphrates speaks (though who can speak as he does?

[29.5] ), wish to practice philosophy themselves. Man, first consider what kind of undertaking it is; then examine your own nature to see whether you can bear it. Do you wish to be a pentathlete or a wrestler? Look at your arms, look at your thighs, examine your lower back.

[29.6] For different people are naturally suited to different things. Do you think that while doing these things you can eat as you do now, drink as you do now, and indulge the same desires and aversions? You must go without sleep, endure hardship, leave your own people, be despised by a little slave, be ridiculed by everyone you meet, and have the lesser share in everything—in honor, in office, in court, and in every petty affair.

[29.7] Consider these things. Decide whether you are willing to receive in exchange for them freedom from passion, freedom, and tranquility. If not, do not approach philosophy. Do not be like children: now a philosopher, later a tax collector, then an orator, and then Caesar’s procurator. These things do not agree with one another. You must be one person, either good or bad. You must cultivate either your own ruling faculty or external things; you must devote yourself either to what is within or to what is outside. That is, you must hold the station either of a philosopher or of an ordinary person.

[30.1] Appropriate actions are generally measured by our relationships. He is your father: you are called upon to care for him, to yield to him in everything, and to endure it when he abuses or strikes you. “But he is a bad father.” Were you naturally bound, then, to a good father? No, simply to a father. Your brother wrongs you. Maintain, therefore, your own proper relation toward him, and do not consider what he does, but what you must do for your moral purpose to remain in accordance with nature. For another person will not harm you unless you wish it; you will have been harmed only when you suppose that you are harmed. In this way, then, you will discover the appropriate action required by a neighbor, a citizen, or a general, if you make a habit of examining your relationships.

[31.1] As for piety toward the gods, know that its chief requirement is this: to hold right opinions about them—that they exist and govern the universe well and justly—and to have appointed yourself to obey them, to yield to everything that happens, and to follow willingly, in the conviction that all is accomplished by the highest wisdom. For in this way you will never blame the gods or accuse them of neglecting you.

[31.2] But this cannot be achieved unless you withdraw good and evil from the things not under our control and place them solely among the things that are under our control. For if you suppose any of those other things to be good or evil, then whenever you fail to obtain what you desire and fall into what you wish to avoid, you are bound to blame and hate those you hold responsible.

[31.3] For every living creature is naturally disposed to flee and turn away from things that appear harmful and from their causes, and to pursue and admire things that are beneficial and their causes. It is therefore impossible for someone who believes himself harmed to take pleasure in what he thinks is harming him, just as it is impossible to take pleasure in the harm itself.

[31.4] Hence a father is reviled by his son when he does not give the child a share of what the child supposes to be good; and what made Polynices and Eteocles enemies to each other was their belief that tyranny was a good. For this reason the farmer reviles the gods, and so does the sailor, and the merchant, and those who lose their wives and children. For where a person’s interest lies, there also lies his piety. Therefore, whoever takes care to desire and avoid as he ought is at the same time taking care of piety.

[31.5] But it is fitting on every occasion to make libations, sacrifices, and offerings of first fruits according to ancestral custom, with purity, and neither carelessly nor negligently, neither stingily nor beyond your means.

[32.1] Whenever you resort to divination, remember that you do not know what the outcome will be, but have come to learn it from the diviner; yet you came already knowing what kind of thing it is, if indeed you are a philosopher. For if it is among the things not under our control, it must necessarily be neither good nor evil.

[32.2] Therefore do not bring desire or aversion with you to the diviner, nor approach him trembling, but with the settled judgment that every possible outcome is indifferent and nothing to you, and that whatever its nature may be, you will be able to make good use of it, and no one will prevent you. Go confidently, then, to the gods as to counselors; and afterward, when some counsel has been given you, remember whose counsel you have sought and whose command you will disregard if you disobey.

[32.3] Resort to divination, as Socrates thought proper, only in matters where the whole inquiry turns upon the outcome and where neither reason nor any other art supplies the means of discerning what lies before you. Thus, when you must share the danger of a friend or your country, do not seek an oracle to learn whether you should share that danger. For even if the diviner warns you that the sacrificial signs are unfavorable, it is plain that death is foretold, or the maiming of some part of the body, or exile; yet reason chooses, even at that price, to stand by your friend and share your country’s danger. Attend, therefore, to the greater diviner, the Pythian god, who cast out of his temple the man who had failed to help his friend when he was being murdered.

[33.1] From this moment establish for yourself a certain character and pattern of conduct, which you will preserve both when you are alone and when you meet with others.

[33.2] For the most part, keep silent, or say only what is necessary, and say it briefly. Rarely, when the occasion calls upon you to speak, do speak—but not about whatever happens to come up: not about gladiatorial combats, horse races, athletes, food or drink, the common topics everywhere, and above all not about people, whether blaming them, praising them, or comparing them.

[33.3] If you are able, use your own conversation to turn that of your companions toward what is fitting. But if you happen to find yourself isolated among strangers to philosophy, keep silent.

[33.4] Do not laugh much, or at many things, or without restraint.

[33.5] Refuse to swear an oath, if possible, altogether; if not, as far as circumstances permit. Avoid banquets given by outsiders and those unacquainted with philosophy;

[33.6] but if an occasion for attending one ever arises, keep your attention taut, lest you slip into vulgarity. For know that if a companion is polluted, the person who rubs shoulders with him must also become polluted, even if he himself happens to be pure.

[33.7] Take what concerns the body only to the point of bare necessity—food, drink, clothing, a house, household servants—and exclude entirely whatever serves display or luxury. As for sexual relations, preserve purity before marriage as far as you are able;

[33.8] but if you do engage in them, partake only of what is lawful. Yet do not become disagreeable or censorious toward those who do indulge, and do not continually parade the fact that you yourself abstain.

[33.9] If someone reports to you that a certain person is speaking ill of you, do not defend yourself against what has been said, but reply, “He was evidently ignorant of the other faults that belong to me, or he would not have mentioned only these.”

[33.10] It is generally unnecessary to attend public spectacles. But if an occasion for doing so ever arises, show yourself eager for no one’s success but your own; that is, wish only for what actually happens to happen, and only for the victor to be victorious. In this way you will not be hindered. Abstain altogether from shouting, laughing at anyone, or becoming excessively excited. And after you leave, do not talk at length about what happened, except insofar as it contributes to your own improvement; for such talk reveals that you were deeply impressed by the spectacle.

[33.11] Do not attend public lectures casually or readily; but when you do attend, preserve your dignity and composure without at the same time becoming disagreeable.

[33.12] Whenever you are about to meet someone, especially a person reputed to be eminent, set before yourself the question, “What would Socrates or Zeno have done in this situation?” Then you will not be at a loss to deal fittingly with whatever occurs.

[33.13] Whenever you go to visit someone of great power, set before yourself the likelihood that you will not find him at home, that you will be shut out, that the doors will be slammed in your face, and that he will pay no attention to you. And if, despite all this, it is your duty to go, then go and bear whatever happens, and never say to yourself, “It was not worth so much.” For that is vulgar and shows resentment toward external things.

[33.14] In conversation, refrain from dwelling immoderately and at length on your own deeds or dangers. For though it is pleasant to you to recall your dangers, it is not equally pleasant for others to hear about what happened to you.

[33.15] Refrain also from trying to provoke laughter; for this habit readily slides into vulgarity and is also liable to weaken your neighbors’ respect for you.

[33.16] It is dangerous also to descend into obscene language. Therefore, whenever anything of that kind occurs, if the occasion is suitable, rebuke the person who has descended to it; if it is not, make it plain that the talk displeases you by your silence, your blush, and your frown.

[34.1] Whenever you receive an impression of some pleasure, guard yourself, as with other impressions, against being swept away by it. Let the matter wait for you, and obtain from yourself some delay. Then recall both moments: the moment when you will enjoy the pleasure, and the later moment when, after enjoying it, you will repent and reproach yourself. Set against these the joy and self-approval you will feel if you abstain. But if a fitting occasion for undertaking the action appears to you, take care not to be overcome by its charm, its sweetness, and its allure; set against them how much better it is to be conscious of having won this victory over yourself.

[35.1] Whenever you have determined that something ought to be done and proceed to do it, never shrink from being seen doing it, even if most people are likely to form a different opinion of it. For if you are not acting rightly, avoid the action itself; but if you are acting rightly, why fear those who will wrongly rebuke you?

[36.1] Just as the propositions “It is day” and “It is night” have great value when separated but none when joined together, so choosing the larger portion may have value for the body, but has none for preserving, as one ought, the social harmony of a banquet. Therefore, whenever you dine with another, remember not merely to consider the value for the body of the dishes set before you, but also to preserve proper respect for your host.

[37.1] If you assume a role beyond your powers, you have both disgraced yourself in that role and neglected one you could have fulfilled.

[38.1] Just as when walking you take care not to step on a nail or twist your foot, so take care not to injure your own governing faculty. And if we guard against this in every action, we shall undertake the action more securely.

[39.1] For each person, the body is the measure of possessions, as the foot is the measure of a shoe. If, then, you stop at this point, you will preserve the measure; but if you go beyond it, you must thereafter be carried along as if over a precipice. It is the same with a shoe: once you go beyond what the foot requires, the shoe becomes gilded, then purple, then embroidered. For once the measure has been exceeded, there is no limit.

[40.1] From the age of fourteen, women are called “mistresses” by men. Seeing, therefore, that nothing else is expected of them except to share men’s beds, they begin to adorn themselves and to place all their hopes in this. It is worth taking care, then, that they may perceive that they are honored for nothing other than appearing modest and self-respecting.

[41.1] It is a sign of want of natural ability to spend much time on matters of the body—for example, to exercise excessively, to eat excessively, to drink excessively, to spend excessive time relieving oneself or having sex. These things should be done incidentally; let your whole attention be directed toward your moral purpose.

[42.1] Whenever someone treats you badly or speaks ill of you, remember that he acts or speaks as he does because he thinks it is fitting. He cannot, then, follow what appears right to you, but only what appears right to him; so if his view is mistaken, the one who is harmed is the one who has been deceived. For if someone supposes a true compound proposition to be false, it is not the proposition that is harmed, but the person who has been deceived. If you proceed from these principles, therefore, you will be gentle toward anyone who reviles you. For on each occasion say, “It seemed so to him.”

[43.1] Everything has two handles, one by which it may be carried and one by which it may not. If your brother wrongs you, do not take hold of the matter by the fact that he wrongs you—for that is the handle by which it cannot be carried—but rather by the fact that he is your brother, that he was brought up with you; and then you will take hold of it by the handle by which it can be carried.

[44.1] These arguments are invalid: “I am richer than you; therefore I am better than you.” “I am more eloquent than you; therefore I am better than you.” But these are more valid: “I am richer than you; therefore my property is better than yours.” “I am more eloquent than you; therefore my expression is better than yours.” But you are neither property nor expression.

[45.1] Someone bathes quickly; do not say that he bathes badly, but that he bathes quickly. Someone drinks a great deal of wine; do not say that he drinks badly, but that he drinks a great deal. For until you have discerned the judgment behind his action, how do you know whether he acts badly? In this way, you will not find yourself receiving adequate impressions of some things while assenting to others.

[46.1] Never call yourself a philosopher, and do not talk at length among laymen about philosophical principles; instead, act in accordance with those principles. At a banquet, for example, do not say how one ought to eat, but eat as one ought. Remember how completely Socrates had stripped himself of all ostentation: people would come to him wishing to be introduced by him to philosophers, and he would take them to those philosophers.

[46.2] So patiently did he endure being overlooked. And if a discussion of some philosophical principle should arise among laymen, keep silent for the most part; for there is great danger that you will immediately vomit up what you have not digested. And whenever someone tells you that you know nothing, and you are not stung by it, then know that you are beginning the work. Sheep do not bring their fodder to the shepherds and display how much they have eaten; they digest their pasture within and outwardly produce wool and milk. You likewise should not display philosophical principles to laymen, but rather the actions that come from those principles once they have been digested.

[47.1] When you have trained your body to live simply, do not pride yourself on it; and if you drink water, do not take every opportunity to announce that you drink water. If you ever wish to train yourself to endure hardship, do it for your own sake and not for those outside you. Do not embrace statues; instead, when you are fiercely thirsty, draw a mouthful of cold water, spit it out, and tell no one.

[48.1] The position and character of a layman: he never expects benefit or harm to come from himself, but from external things. The position and character of a philosopher: he expects every benefit and harm to come from himself.

[48.2] Signs of one who is making progress: he censures no one, praises no one, blames no one, accuses no one, and says nothing about himself as though he were someone of importance or knew something. Whenever he is hindered or prevented in anything, he accuses himself. If someone praises him, he privately laughs at the person who praises him; and if someone censures him, he makes no defense. He goes about like a convalescent, careful not to disturb any part that is healing before it has grown firm.

[48.3] He has removed every desire from himself, and has transferred his aversion solely to those things contrary to nature that are within our control. He employs his impulses toward everything with restraint. If he appears foolish or ignorant, he does not care. In a word, he keeps watch over himself as though he were an enemy lying in ambush.

[49.1] Whenever someone prides himself on being able to understand and interpret the books of Chrysippus, say to yourself: “If Chrysippus had not written obscurely, this man would have nothing on which to pride himself.” But what do I desire? To comprehend nature and to follow her. I therefore ask who interprets her; and hearing that Chrysippus does, I go to him. But I do not understand his writings, so I seek someone to interpret them. Up to this point there is nothing to take pride in. But when I have found an interpreter, what remains is to put his precepts into practice; this alone is something to take pride in. If, however, I admire the mere act of interpretation, what else have I become but a grammarian instead of a philosopher—except, indeed, that I interpret Chrysippus instead of Homer? Therefore, whenever someone says to me, “Read Chrysippus aloud to me,” I should rather blush when I cannot display deeds that resemble and accord with his words.

[50.1] Whatever principles you set before yourself, abide by them as though they were laws and you would be guilty of impiety if you transgressed them. But pay no heed to whatever anyone may say about you, for that is no longer yours.

[51.1] How much longer will you postpone deeming yourself worthy of the highest things and transgressing in nothing the judgment of reason? You have received the principles with which you needed to come to grips, and you have come to grips with them. What teacher, then, are you still waiting for, that you may defer to him the task of reforming yourself? You are no longer a youth, but already a grown man. If you are negligent and indolent now, forever making one postponement after another and appointing one day after another on which you will attend to yourself, then, before you know it, you will have made no progress and will continue to live and die an ordinary man.

[51.2] Therefore, from this moment deem yourself worthy of living as a mature man who is making progress, and let whatever appears best to you be an inviolable law. And if anything painful or pleasant, glorious or inglorious, is brought before you, remember that the contest is now, that the Olympic Games are already at hand, and that there can be no further postponement; and that by a single day and a single action, progress is either lost or preserved.

[51.3] It was in this way that Socrates attained perfection: in everything that came before him, he attended to nothing but reason. And though you are not yet Socrates, you ought to live as one who desires to be Socrates.

[52.1] The first and most necessary field in philosophy is the application of principles, such as not to lie. The second is that of demonstrations, such as how it is demonstrated that one ought not to lie. The third establishes and articulates these very demonstrations, such as: How is this a demonstration? What is a demonstration? What is a consequence? What is a contradiction? What is truth? What is falsehood?

[52.2] Thus the third field is necessary because of the second, and the second because of the first; but the most necessary, and the one in which we ought to rest, is the first. Yet we do the opposite: we spend our time in the third field, and all our zeal is devoted to it, while we utterly neglect the first. And so we lie, yet have ready at hand the demonstration that one ought not to lie.

[53.1] On every occasion we must keep these words ready at hand: “Lead me, O Zeus, and you, O Destiny, wherever you have appointed me to go; for I shall follow without hesitation. But if I am unwilling and become base, I shall follow nonetheless.”

[53.2] “Whoever has nobly yielded to necessity is wise among us and understands the things of the gods.”

[53.3] “But, Crito, if this is pleasing to the gods, so let it be.”

[53.4] “Anytus and Meletus can kill me, but they cannot harm me.”