VII

1. And in the first place count those who are devoted to nothing but wine and lust: none are more shamefully busy. The others, even if held by a vain image of glory, at least err respectably: name me the greedy, the passionate, men waging unjust hatreds or wars — all these sin more manfully. It is a disgraceful wasting away in those who are flung upon belly and lust.

2. Turn over all their hours: see how long they spend in adding up accounts, how long in lying in wait, how long in fearing, how long in courting, how long in being courted, how much they occupy their own bonds and others', how much their dinner-parties — which are now duties in themselves: you will see how their own evil or their own good will not let them breathe.

3. Finally, it is agreed among all that nothing can be well exercised by a busy man — not eloquence, not the liberal studies, since a mind stretched taut takes in nothing deep, and rejects everything as if beaten in. Nothing is further from the busy man than living: of nothing is the knowledge harder. The teachers of other arts are common and many; some of them boys have so grasped that they could even teach: living, the whole of life is to be learned — and, which will perhaps astonish you more, the whole of life is to be learned in dying.

4. So many great men, laying aside every impediment, when they had renounced riches, offices, pleasures, worked at this one thing to their last age — to know how to live; and yet more of them went out of life confessing they did not yet know — much less these.

5. Believe me, it belongs to great men, eminent above human error, to let none of their time be stained; and therefore that life of theirs is longest, because, however much room it opened, they devoted the whole of it to themselves. Nothing in it lay uncultivated and idle; nothing was under another's hand; for they found nothing worthy of exchange with their time — they were its most sparing guardians. And so it was enough for them; but it must have failed those from whose life the crowd took much.

6. Nor think that these men never came to understand their loss: you will hear most of those whom great felicity burdens, amid troops of clients or pleadings or other respectable miseries, cry out at times: "I am not allowed to live."

7. And why not allowed? All those who call you to them take you from yourself. How many days has that defendant taken? How many that candidate? How many that old woman weary with burying her heirs? How many that feigned sick man, playing on the greed of flatterers? How many that mightier friend, who keeps you not for friendship but for display? Mark it, I say, and count up the days of your life: you will see how very few, and how small, have stayed with you.

8. The man who has won the fasces he longed for wants to lay them down, and says at once: "When will this year pass by?" That one gives games, whose lot he judged great to win: "When," he says, "shall I escape them?" That one is torn from end to end of the forum as an advocate, and with great concourse fills everything beyond what can be heard: "When," he says, "will the case be called?" Each one hurries on his life and labors with desire of the future, in weariness of the present.

9. But he who devotes every hour to his own uses, who orders every day as if it were the last, neither longs for tomorrow nor fears it. For what is there that any hour could bring of new delight? All things are known, all things experienced to satiety. For the rest, let fortune order as she will: life is already safe. It can be added to, nothing taken from — and added as food to one already full and satisfied: he takes it because he does not crave it.

10. Therefore do not think anyone has lived long because of grey hairs or wrinkles: he has not lived long — he has BEEN long. For what if you should think that man had sailed much whom a savage tempest, caught as he left harbor, carried hither and thither and drove in a circle over the same spaces by the cross-winds of opposing gales? He did not sail much — he was tossed much.

1. Start with the men devoted to nothing but wine and pleasure: none are more shamelessly busy. The others, even when chasing glory, at least fail respectably. Name the greedy, the angry, the men waging unjust wars and hatreds — all of them sin more like men. shameful waste is what happens to people abandoned to their appetite.

2. Add up their hours. See how long they spend doing accounts, lying in wait, fearing, flattering, being flattered, tying themselves up in other people's bonds, hosting dinner parties that are practically official duties now. You'll see how their own misery or their own success never lets them breathe.

3. Everyone agrees: a busy man can do nothing well — not public speaking, not the liberal studies. A stretched mind absorbs nothing deeply and rejects everything as if defeated. Nothing is further from the busy man than living. Nothing is harder to learn. Every other art has plenty of teachers; some of them are so well understood that even children could teach them. But living — the whole of life — has to be learned. And here's what will surprise you most: the whole of life has to be learned in dying.

4. So many great men, dropping every distraction — renouncing wealth, offices, pleasures — worked on this one question into old age: how to live. And more of them died admitting they didn't know yet. So imagine the rest.

5. Believe me: it takes a great man, above ordinary human error, to keep any of his hours unstained. That's why their lives are the longest — because whatever room opened up, they spent all of it on themselves. Nothing sat unused or wasted; nothing was ruled by someone else. They found nothing worth trading for their time, and guarded it carefully. So it was enough for them. But for the people whose lives the crowd took in chunks, time had to run short.

6. And don't think they never noticed what they'd lost. You'll hear the men weighed down by great success — surrounded by clients or lawsuits or other respectable misery — cry out sometimes: "I'm not allowed to live."

7. And why not? Everyone who calls you to them pulls you away from yourself. How many days has that court case cost you? That election campaign? That old woman busy burying her heirs? That fake invalid milking his flatterers? That important "friend" who keeps you for display, not friendship? Look at it — count the days of your life. You'll see how few, and how small, are actually yours.

8. The man who won the office he wanted wants to quit it immediately: "When will this year be over?" The one who gave the games he thought it was an honor to be given: "When do I get out of them?" That lawyer is hauled from one end of the courtroom to the other, filling the hall beyond what anyone can hear: "When is my case up?" Everyone rushes through life, starving for the future, sick of the present.

9. But the one who spends every hour on himself, who treats every day as his last, neither longs for tomorrow nor fears it. What could a new day bring that's better? Everything is known, everything tasted to the limit. Let fortune do what it wants: your life is already safe. It can be added to, not taken away — added the way you feed someone already full: they eat because it's there, not because they need it.

10. So don't call a man long-lived because of grey hair and wrinkles. He hasn't lived long — he's just BEEN long. Would you say a sailor sailed far if a violent storm caught him leaving port, spun him around, and blew him back and forth over the same stretch of sea? He didn't sail far. He was thrown around a lot.