101-150

Study how to give as one that is sick: that thou mayest hereafter give as one that is whole. Fast; drink water only; abstain altogether from desire, that thou mayest hereafter conform thy desire to Reason.

Learn to give like someone who is sick, so that later you can give like someone who is healthy. Fast. Drink only water. Stop desiring things altogether, so that later you can align your desires with Reason.

Thou wouldst do good unto men? then show them by thine own example what kind of men philosophy can make, and cease from foolish trifling. Eating, do good to them that eat with thee; drinking, to them that drink with thee; yield unto all, give way, and bear with them. Thus shalt thou do them good: but vent not upon them thine own evil humour!

You want to help people? Show them through your own example what kind of person philosophy can create. Stop wasting time on foolish nonsense. When you eat, be good to those eating with you. When you drink, be good to those drinking with you. Be flexible with everyone. Make room for others and put up with them. That's how you help them. Don't dump your own bad mood on them!

Even as bad actors cannot sing alone, but only in chorus: so some cannot walk alone.

Just as poor actors can't perform alone but need a chorus, some people can't function by themselves.

Man, if thou art aught, strive to walk alone and hold converse with thyself, instead of skulking in the chorus! at length think; look around thee; bestir thyself, that thou mayest know who thou art!

If you're worth anything, try to walk alone and talk with yourself instead of hiding in the crowd! Take time to think. Look around you. Shake yourself awake so you can know who you really are!

You would fain be victor at the Olympic games, you say. Yes, but weigh the conditions, weigh the consequences; then and then only, lay to your hand—if it be for your profit. You must live by rule, submit to diet, abstain from dainty meats, exercise your body perforce at stated hours, in heat or in cold; drink no cold water, nor, it may be, wine. In a word, you must surrender yourself wholly to your trainer, as though to a physician.

You say you want to win at the Olympic games. Yes, but consider the conditions. Consider the consequences. Only then should you commit, and only if it benefits you. You must live by strict rules and follow a rigid diet. You must give up rich foods. You'll exercise your body at set times, whether it's hot or cold outside. You can't drink cold water, and maybe no wine either. In short, you must give yourself completely to your trainer, as if to a doctor.

Then in the hour of contest, you will have to delve the ground, it may chance dislocate an arm, sprain an ankle, gulp down abundance of yellow sand, be scourge with the whip—and with all this sometimes lose the victory. Count the cost—and then, if your desire still holds, try the wrestler’s life. Else let me tell you that you will be behaving like a pack of children playing now at wrestlers, now at gladiators; presently falling to trumpeting and anon to stage-playing, when the fancy takes them for what they have seen. And you are even the same: wrestler, gladiator, philosopher, orator all by turns and none of them with your whole soul. Like an ape, you mimic what you see, to one thing constant never; the thing that is familiar charms no more. This is because you never undertook aught with due consideration, nor after strictly testing and viewing it from every side; no, your choice was thoughtless; the glow of your desire had waxed cold . . . .

Then, when the contest comes, you will have to dig into the ground. You may dislocate an arm or sprain an ankle. You will swallow plenty of yellow sand and be flogged with the whip. And with all this, you will sometimes lose the victory. Count the cost. Then, if your desire still holds, try the wrestler’s life. Otherwise, let me tell you, you will be behaving like a pack of children. They play at wrestlers one moment and at gladiators the next. Soon they take to blowing trumpets, and then to acting plays, whenever the fancy takes them for something they have seen. And you are just the same. You are wrestler, gladiator, philosopher, orator, each in turn, and none of them with your whole soul. Like an ape, you mimic whatever you see, never constant to one thing. What is familiar charms you no more. This is because you never took up anything with proper thought, or after strictly testing it and viewing it from every side. No, your choice was thoughtless. The glow of your desire had grown cold . . . .

Friend, bethink you first what it is you would do, and then what your own nature is able to bear. Would you be a wrestler, consider your shoulders, your thighs, your loins—not all men are formed to the same end. Think you to be a philosopher while acting as you do? think you go on thus eating, thus drinking, giving way in like manner to wrath and to displeasure? Nay, you must watch, you must labour; overcome certain desires; quit your familiar friends, submit to be despised by your slave, to be held in derision by them that meet you, to take the lower place in all things, in office, in positions of authority, in courts of law.

My friend, first think about what you want to do. Then consider what your own nature can handle. Do you want to be a wrestler? Look at your shoulders, your thighs, your back. Not everyone is built for the same purpose. Do you think you can be a philosopher while acting the way you do? Do you think you can keep eating like this, drinking like this, giving in to anger and irritation? No, you must stay alert. You must work hard. You must overcome certain desires. You must leave your close friends behind. You must accept being looked down on by your slave, being laughed at by people you meet. You must take the lower position in everything: in public office, in positions of power, in courts of law.

Weigh these things fully, and then, if you will, lay to your hand; if as the price of these things you would gain Freedom, Tranquillity, and passionless Serenity.

Think carefully about these things. Then, if you're ready, take action. If you're willing to pay this price, you can gain Freedom, Peace of Mind, and calm Serenity free from destructive emotions.

He that hath no musical instruction is a child in Music; he that hath no letters is a child in Learning; he that is untaught is a child in Life.

Someone without musical training is a beginner in music. Someone who can't read is a beginner in learning. Someone who hasn't been taught is a beginner in life.

Can any profit be derived from these men? Aye, from all.

Can we gain anything from these people? Yes, from everyone.

“What, even from a reviler?”

"What, even from someone who insults me?"

Why, tell me what profit a wrestler gains from him who exercises him beforehand? The very greatest: he trains me in the practice of endurance, of controlling my temper, of gentle ways. You deny it. What, the man who lays hold of my neck, and disciplines loins and shoulders, does me good, . . . while he that trains me to keep my temper does me none? This is what it means, not knowing how to gain advantage from men! Is my neighbour bad? Bad to himself, but good to me: he brings my good temper, my gentleness into play. Is my father bad? Bad to himself, but good to me. This is the rod of Hermes; touch what you will with it, they say, and it becomes gold. Nay, but bring what you will and I will transmute it into Good. Bring sickness, bring death, bring poverty and reproach, bring trial for life—all these things through the rod of Hermes shall be turned to profit.

Why, tell me, what profit does a wrestler gain from the man who exercises him beforehand? The very greatest. In the same way, the reviler trains me in the practice of endurance, of controlling my temper, of gentle ways. You deny it. What, the man who grabs my neck and disciplines my loins and shoulders does me good, . . . while the man who trains me to keep my temper does me none? This is what it means not to know how to gain advantage from men! Is my neighbor bad? Bad to himself, but good to me. He brings my good temper and my gentleness into play. Is my father bad? Bad to himself, but good to me. This is the rod of Hermes. Touch what you will with it, they say, and it becomes gold. No, but bring what you will, and I will turn it into Good. Bring sickness, bring death, bring poverty and reproach, bring a trial for my life. All these things, through the rod of Hermes, shall be turned to profit.

Till then these sound opinions have taken firm root in you, and you have gained a measure of strength for your security, I counsel you to be cautious in associating with the uninstructed. Else whatever impressions you receive upon the tablets of your mind in the School will day by day melt and disappear, like wax in the sun. Withdraw then somewhere far from the sun, while you have these waxen sentiments.

Until these sound ideas have taken firm root in you, and you've gained some strength for your security, I advise you to be careful about spending time with people who haven't been instructed. Otherwise, whatever impressions you receive on the tablets of your mind in the School will melt and disappear day by day, like wax in the sun. So withdraw somewhere far from the sun while you have these waxen sentiments.

We must approach this matter in a different way; it is great and mystical: it is no common thing; nor given to every man. Wisdom alone, it may be, will not suffice for the care of youth: a man needs also a certain measure of readiness—an aptitude for the office; aye, and certain bodily qualities; and above all, to be counselled of God Himself to undertake this post; even as He counselled Socrates to fill the post of one who confutes error, assigning to Diogenes the royal office of high reproof, and to Zeno that of positive instruction. Whereas you would fain set up for a physician provided with nothing but drugs! Where and how they should be applied you neither know nor care.

We need to approach this matter differently. It is great and mysterious. It's no ordinary thing, and it's not given to everyone. Wisdom alone may not be enough for guiding the young. A person also needs a certain readiness, an aptitude for the role. Yes, and certain physical qualities too. Above all, they must be called by God Himself to take on this position. God counseled Socrates to take the role of one who exposes error. He assigned to Diogenes the royal office of harsh criticism, and to Zeno the task of direct teaching. But you want to set yourself up as a physician with nothing but drugs! You neither know nor care where and how they should be used.

If what charms you is nothing but abstract principles, sit down and turn them over quietly in your mind: but never dub yourself a Philosopher, nor suffer others to call you so. Say rather: He is in error; for my desires, my impulses are unaltered. I give in my adhesion to what I did before; nor has my mode of dealing with the things of sense undergone any change.

If abstract principles are all that interest you, sit down and think them through quietly. But never call yourself a Philosopher. Don't let others call you one either. Say instead: He's wrong about me. My desires haven't changed. My impulses are the same as before. I still agree with what I believed earlier. The way I handle everyday things hasn't changed at all.

When a friend inclined to Cynic views asked Epictetus, what sort of person a true Cynic should be, requesting a general sketch of the system, he answered:—“We will consider that at leisure. At present I content myself with saying this much: If a man put his hand to so weighty a matter without God, the wrath of God abides upon him. That which he covets will but bring upon him public shame. Not even on finding himself in a well-ordered house does a man step forward and say to himself, I must be master here! Else the lord of that house takes notice of it, and, seeing him insolently giving orders, drags him forth and chastises him. So it is also in this great City, the World. Here also is there a Lord of the House, who orders all thing:—

When a friend who leaned toward Cynic philosophy asked Epictetus what kind of person a true Cynic should be, requesting a general outline of the system, he answered: "We can discuss that later. For now, I'll just say this: If someone takes on such a serious matter without God, God's anger will rest on him. What he desires will only bring him public shame. Even when a man enters a well-run household, he doesn't step forward and tell himself, I must be the master here! If he did, the owner of that house would notice. Seeing him arrogantly giving orders, the owner would drag him out and punish him. The same thing happens in this great City, the World. Here too there is a Lord of the House, who orders all things:

“But had Thersites stepped forward and claimed the chief command, he had been met with a refusal, or obtained it only to his own shame and confusion of face, before a cloud of witnesses.”

But if Thersites had stepped forward and claimed the chief command, he would have been refused. Or if he had somehow obtained it, he would have faced only shame and humiliation in front of countless witnesses.

Others may fence themselves with walls and houses, when they do such deeds as these, and wrap themselves in darkness—aye, they have many a device to hide themselves. Another may shut his door and station one before his chamber to say, if any comes, He has gone forth! he is not at leisure! But the true Cynic will have none of these things; instead of them, he must wrap himself in Modesty: else he will but bring himself to shame, naked and under the open sky. That is his house; that is his door; that is the slave that guards his chamber; that is his darkness!

Others may hide behind walls and houses when they do such things, wrapping themselves in darkness. Yes, they have many tricks to conceal themselves. Someone might shut his door and post a guard outside his room to tell visitors, He has gone out! He is busy! But the true Cynic will have none of this. Instead, he must wrap himself in Modesty. Otherwise he will only bring shame upon himself, naked and exposed under the open sky. That is his house. That is his door. That is the slave guarding his chamber. That is his darkness!

Death? let it come when it will, whether it smite but a part of the whole: Fly, you tell me—fly! But whither shall I fly? Can any man cast me beyond the limits of the World? It may not be! And whithersoever I go, there shall I still find Sun, Moon, and Stars; there I shall find dreams, and omens, and converse with the Gods!

Death? Let it come whenever it wants, whether it strikes just a part of me or all of me. You tell me to run away—but where would I run to? Can anyone throw me beyond the boundaries of the universe? That's impossible! Wherever I go, I'll still find the Sun, Moon, and Stars. I'll still find dreams and omens and conversations with the Gods!

Furthermore the true Cynic must know that he is sent as a Messenger from God to men, to show unto them that as touching good and evil they are in error; looking for these where they are not to be found, nor ever bethinking themselves where they are. And like Diogenes when brought before Philip after the battle of Chaeronea, the Cynic must remember that he is a Spy. For a Spy he really is—to bring back word what things are on Man’s side, and what against him. And when he had diligently observed all, he must come back with a true report, not terrified into announcing them to be foes that are no foes, nor otherwise perturbed or confounded by the things of sense.

The true Cynic must know that he is sent as a Messenger from God to men. His purpose is to show them that they are wrong about good and evil. They look for these things where they cannot be found. They never think to look where they actually are. Like Diogenes when brought before Philip after the battle of Chaeronea, the Cynic must remember that he is a Spy. He really is a spy, sent to bring back word about what things are on Man's side and what things are against him. After he has carefully observed everything, he must come back with a true report. He must not be terrified into calling enemies those who are not enemies. He must not be disturbed or confused by the things of sense.

How can it be that one who hath nothing, neither raiment, nor house, nor home, nor bodily tendance, nor servant, nor city, should yet live tranquil and contented? Behold God hath sent you a man to show you in act and deed that it may be so. Behold me! I have neither house nor possessions nor servants: the ground is my couch; I have no wife, no children, no shelter—nothing but earth and sky, and one poor cloak. And what lack I yet? am I not untouched by sorrow, by fear? am I not free? . . . when have I laid anything to the charge of God or Man? when have I accused any? hath any of you seen me with a sorrowful countenance? And in what wise treat I those of whom you stand in fear and awe? Is it not as slaves? Who when he seeth me doth not think that he beholdeth his Master and his King?

How can someone who has nothing live peacefully and content? No clothes, no house, no home, no one to care for their body, no servant, no city. Yet they remain tranquil. God has sent you a man to prove this is possible. Look at me! I have no house, no possessions, no servants. The ground is my bed. I have no wife, no children, no shelter. Nothing but earth and sky, and one worn cloak. And what do I lack? Am I not free from sorrow and fear? Am I not free? When have I blamed God or any person? When have I accused anyone? Has any of you seen sadness on my face? And how do I treat those you fear and respect? Don't I treat them as slaves? When someone sees me, don't they think they're looking at their Master and King?

Give thyself more diligently to reflection: know thyself: take counsel with the Godhead: without God put thine hand unto nothing!

Dedicate yourself more fully to reflection. Know yourself. Seek counsel with the divine. Without God, do nothing.

“But to marry and to rear offspring,” said the young man, “will the Cynic hold himself bound to undertake this as a chief duty?”

"But what about marriage and raising children?" the young man asked. "Will the Cynic consider this a primary duty?"

Grant me a republic of wise men, answered Epictetus, and perhaps none will lightly take the Cynic life upon him. For on whose account should he embrace that method of life? Suppose however that he does, there will then be nothing to hinder his marrying and rearing offspring. For his wife will be even such another as himself, and likewise her father; and in like manner will his children be brought up.

Give me a republic of wise men, answered Epictetus, and perhaps no one will lightly take up the Cynic life. For whose sake would he take up that way of life? Suppose, however, that he does. Then nothing will prevent him from marrying and raising children. For his wife will be another like himself, and so will her father. And his children will be brought up in the same way.

But in the present condition of things, which resembles an Army in battle array, ought not the Cynic to be free from all distraction and given wholly to the service of God, so that he can go in and out among men, neither fettered by the duties nor entangled by the relations of common life? For if he transgress them, he will forfeit the character of a good man and true; whereas if he observe them, there is an end to him as the Messenger, the Spy, the Herald of the Gods!

But in the present state of things, which is like an army drawn up for battle, should the Cynic not be free from all distraction and given wholly to the service of God? Should he not be able to go in and out among men, neither tied down by the duties nor entangled in the relations of common life? For if he violates them, he will lose the character of a good and true man. But if he observes them, there is an end of him as the Messenger, the Spy, the Herald of the Gods!

Ask me if you choose if a Cynic shall engage in the administration of the State. O fool, seek you a nobler administration that that in which he is engaged? Ask you if a man shall come forward in the Athenian assembly and talk about revenue and supplies, when his business is to converse with all men, Athenians, Corinthians, and Romans alike, not about supplies, not about revenue, nor yet peace and war, but about Happiness and Misery, Prosperity and Adversity, Slavery and Freedom?

You ask me whether a Cynic should get involved in running the government? You fool, are you looking for a nobler form of public service than the one he's already doing? Do you really think he should stand up in the Athenian assembly and talk about taxes and budgets? His real work is to speak with all people—Athenians, Corinthians, and Romans alike—not about budgets, not about taxes, and not about peace and war, but about Happiness and Misery, Success and Failure, Slavery and Freedom.

Ask you whether a man shall engage in the administration of the State who has engaged in such an Administration as this? Ask me too if he shall govern; and again I will answer, Fool, what greater government shall he hold than he holds already?

You ask whether a man should take part in governing the State when he has already engaged in such Administration as this? You ask me if he should govern? Again I will answer, Fool, what greater government could he hold than the one he already holds?

Such a man needs also to have a certain habit of body. If he appears consumptive, thin and pale, his testimony has no longer the same authority. He must not only prove to the unlearned by showing them what his Soul is that it is possible to be a good man apart from all that they admire; but he must also show them, by his body, that a plain and simple manner of life under the open sky does no harm to the body either. “See, I am proof of this! and my body also.” As Diogenes used to do, who went about fresh of look and by the very appearance of his body drew men’s eyes. But if a Cynic is an object of pity, he seems a mere beggar; all turn away, all are offended at him. Nor should he be slovenly of look, so as not to scare men from him in this way either; on the contrary, his very roughness should be clean and attractive.

A person like this also needs to be physically healthy. If he looks sick, thin, and pale, his message loses its power. He must prove to ordinary people that you can be good without the things they value. He needs to show this through his character. But he must also prove through his body that a simple life outdoors doesn't harm your health. "Look at me as proof! My body shows it too." Diogenes did this. He walked around looking healthy and vibrant. His physical appearance alone caught people's attention. But if a Cynic looks pitiful, he just seems like a beggar. Everyone turns away. Everyone is put off by him. He shouldn't look sloppy either, or he'll drive people away for that reason. Instead, his rough appearance should be clean and appealing.

Kings and tyrants have armed guards wherewith to chastise certain persons, though they themselves be evil. But to the Cynic conscience gives this power—not arms and guards. When he knows that he has watched and laboured on behalf of mankind: that sleep hath found him pure, and left him purer still: that his thoughts have been the thought of a Friend of the Gods—of a servant, yet one that hath a part in the government of the Supreme God: that the words are ever on his lips:—

Kings and tyrants have armed guards with which to punish certain people, even though they themselves are evil. But to the Cynic, conscience gives this power, not arms and guards. It gives it when he knows these things: that he has watched and labored on behalf of mankind, that sleep has found him pure and left him purer still, that his thoughts have been the thoughts of a Friend of the Gods (a servant, yet one who has a part in the government of the Supreme God), and that these words are always on his lips:

as well as these:—

as well as these:—

Why should he not speak boldly unto his own brethren, unto his children—in a word, unto all that are akin to him!

Why should he not speak boldly to his own brothers, to his children, in a word, to all who are his kin!

Does a Philosopher apply to people to come and hear him? does he not rather, of his own nature, attract those that will be benefited by him—like the sun that warms, the food that sustains them? What Physician applies to men to come and be healed? (Though indeed I hear that the Physicians at Rome do nowadays apply for patients—in my time they were applied to.) I apply to you to come and hear that you are in evil case; that what deserves your attention most is the last thing to gain it; that you know not good from evil, and are in short a hapless wretch; a fine way to apply! though unless the words of the Philosopher affect you thus, speaker and speech are alike dead.

Does a philosopher ask people to come and hear him? No, he naturally attracts those who will benefit from him, like the sun that warms or the food that sustains them. What doctor asks people to come and be healed? (Though I hear that doctors at Rome do ask for patients nowadays. In my time they were sought out.) I'm asking you to come and hear that you're in a bad situation. What deserves your attention most is the last thing to get it. You don't know good from evil. In short, you are a miserable wretch. That's a fine way to ask! Unless the philosopher's words affect you this way, both speaker and speech are dead.

A Philosopher’s school is a Surgery: pain, not pleasure, you should have felt therein. For on entering none of you is whole. One has a shoulder out of joint, another an abscess: a third suffers from an issue, a fourth from pains in the head. And am I then to sit down and treat you to pretty sentiments and empty flourishes, so that you may applaud me and depart, with neither shoulder, nor head, nor issue, nor abscess a whit the better for your visit? Is it then for this that young men are to quit their homes, and leave parents, friends, kinsmen and substance to mouth out Bravo to your empty phrases!

A philosopher's school is a surgery. You should feel pain there, not pleasure. When you enter, none of you is whole. One has a dislocated shoulder. Another has an abscess. A third suffers from a chronic discharge. A fourth has headaches. So am I supposed to sit here and give you pretty speeches and empty flourishes? Should I let you applaud me and leave with your shoulder, head, discharge, and abscess no better than when you arrived? Is this why young men should leave their homes? Should they abandon their parents, friends, family, and property just to shout Bravo at your empty phrases?

If any be unhappy, let him remember that he is unhappy by reason of himself alone. For God hath made all men to enjoy felicity and constancy of good.

If anyone is unhappy, let them remember that they are unhappy because of themselves alone. God made all people to enjoy happiness and lasting goodness.

Shall we never wean ourselves—shall we never heed the teachings of Philosophy (unless perchance they have been sounding in our ears like an enchanter’s drone):—

Shall we never wean ourselves? Shall we never heed the teachings of Philosophy (unless perhaps they have been sounding in our ears like an enchanter’s droning chant):

This World is one great City, and one is the substance whereof it is fashioned: a certain period indeed there needs must be, while these give place to those; some must perish for others to succeed; some move and some abide: yet all is full of friends—first God, then Men, whom Nature hath bound by ties of kindred each to each.

The world is one great city, made from a single substance. There must be periods of change when some things give way to others. Some must die so others can take their place. Some things move and some stay still. Yet everything is full of friends. First comes God, then come people, whom Nature has bound together as kin.

Nor did the hero weep and lament at leaving his children orphans. For he knew that no man is an orphan, but it is the Father that careth for all continually and for evermore. Not by mere report had he heard that the Supreme God is the Father of men: seeing that he called Him Father believing Him so to be, and in all that he did had ever his eyes fixed upon Him. Wherefore in whatsoever place he was, there is was given him to live happily.

The hero didn't weep or mourn about leaving his children as orphans. He knew that no one is truly an orphan. The Father cares for everyone, always and forever. He hadn't just heard rumors that the Supreme God is the Father of all people. He called Him Father because he truly believed it. In everything he did, he kept his eyes fixed on Him. That's why he could live happily, no matter where he was.

Know you not that the thing is a warfare? one man’s duty is to mount guard, another must go out to reconnoitre, a third to battle; all cannot be in one place, nor would it even be expedient. But you, instead of executing you Commander’s orders, complain if aught harsher than usual is enjoined; not understanding to what condition you are bringing the army, so far as in you lies. If all were to follow your example, none would dig a trench, none would cast a rampart around the camp, none would keep watch, or expose himself to danger; but all turn out useless for the service of war. . . . Thus it is here also. Every life is a warfare, and that long and various. You must fulfil a soldier’s duty, and obey each order at your commander’s nod: aye, if it be possible, divine what he would have done; for between that Command and this, there is no comparison, either in might or in excellence.

Don't you understand that life is a war? Each person has a different duty. One soldier must stand guard. Another must scout ahead. A third must fight in battle. Not everyone can be in the same place. That wouldn't even make sense. But instead of following your Commander's orders, you complain whenever something harder than usual is required. You don't realize how you're weakening the army by your actions. If everyone followed your example, no one would dig trenches. No one would build defenses around the camp. No one would keep watch or face danger. Everyone would become useless for war. The same is true here. Every life is a war, and it's long and full of variety. You must fulfill your duty as a soldier. Obey each order the moment your commander gives it. If possible, anticipate what he wants done. There's no comparison between that Command and this one, either in power or in excellence.

Have you again forgotten? Know you not that a good man does nothing for appearance’ sake, but for the sake of having done right? . . .

Have you forgotten again? Don't you know that a good person does nothing for show, but for the sake of doing what's right? . . .

“Is there no reward then?”

"Is there no reward then?"

Reward! do you seek any greater reward for a good man than doing what is right and just? Yet at the Great Games you look for nothing else; there the victor’s crown you deem enough. Seems it to you so small a thing and worthless, to be a good man, and happy therein?

Do you want a reward? What greater reward could a good person want than doing what's right and just? Think about the Great Games. You don't look for anything else there. You consider the victor's crown enough. Does it seem like such a small and worthless thing to you to be a good person and find happiness in that?

It befits thee not to be unhappy by reason of any, but rather to be happy by reason of all men, and especially by reason of God, who formed us to this end.

You shouldn't let anyone make you unhappy. Instead, let everyone be a reason for your happiness, especially God, who created us for this purpose.

What, did Diogenes love no man, he that was so gentle, so true a friend to men as cheerfully to endure such bodily hardships for the common weal of all mankind? But how loved he them? As behoved a minister of the Supreme God, alike caring for men and subject unto God.

What, didn't Diogenes love anyone? He was so gentle, such a true friend to humanity that he cheerfully endured terrible physical hardships for the common good of all people. But how did he love them? As a minister of the Supreme God should. He cared for people while remaining subject to God.

I am by Nature made for my own good; not for my own evil.

I am naturally made for my own good, not for my own harm.

Remind thyself that he whom thou lovest is mortal—that what thou lovest is not thine own; it is given thee for the present, not irrevocably nor for ever, but even as a fig or a bunch of grapes at the appointed season of the year. . . .

Remember that the person you love is mortal. What you love is not your own. It is given to you for now, not permanently or forever, but like a fig or a bunch of grapes in its proper season.

“But these are words of evil omen.”. . .

"But those words bring bad luck."

What, callest thou aught of evil omen save that which signifies some evil thing? Cowardice is a word of evil omen, if thou wilt, and meanness of spirit, and lamentation and mourning, and shamelessness. . . .

What do you call of evil omen except things that point to something bad? Cowardice is a phrase of evil omen, if you like, along with a petty spirit, grief and mourning, and shamelessness. . . .

But do not, I pray thee, call of evil omen a word that is significant of any natural thing:—as well call of evil omen the reaping of the corn; for that means the destruction of the ears, though not of the World!—as well say that the fall of the leaf is of evil omen; that the dried fig should take the place of the green; that raisins should be made from grapes. All these are changes from a former state into another; not destruction, but an ordered economy, a fixed administration. Such is leaving home, a change of small account; such is Death, a greater change, from what now is, not to what is not, but to what is not now.

But please do not call a word of evil omen when it stands for something natural. You might as well call the reaping of the grain a thing of evil omen, since it means the destruction of the ears, though not of the World! You might as well say that the falling of the leaf is of evil omen, or the dried fig taking the place of the green one, or raisins being made from grapes. All these are changes from a former state into another. They are not destruction, but an ordered arrangement, a fixed administration. Leaving home is a change of this kind, and a small one. So is Death, a greater change, from what is now, not to what is not, but to what is not now.

“Shall I then no longer be?”

"Will I no longer exist?"

Not so; thou wilt be; but something different, of which the World now hath need. For thou too wert born not when thou chosest, but when the World had need of thee.

That's not true. You will exist, but as something different, something the world needs right now. You weren't born when you chose to be born. You were born when the world needed you.

Wherefore a good man and true, bearing in mind who he is and whence he came and from whom he sprang, cares only how he may fill his post with due discipline and obedience to God.

A good and true person remembers who he is, where he came from, and who created him. He cares only about fulfilling his role with proper discipline and obedience to God.

Wilt thou that I continue to live? Then will I live, as one that is free and noble, as Thou wouldst have me. For Thou hast made me free from hindrance in what appertaineth unto me. But hast Thou no further need of me? I thank Thee! Up to this hour have I stayed for Thy sake and none other’s: and now in obedience to Thee I depart.

Do you want me to keep living? Then I'll live as a free and noble person, just as You intended. You've made me free from obstacles in what belongs to me. But do You no longer need me? I'm grateful! Until now I've stayed for Your sake and no one else's. Now, following Your will, I leave.

“How dost thou depart?”

"How do you leave?"

Again I say, as Thou wouldst have me; as one that is free, as Thy servant, as one whose ear is open unto what Thou dost enjoin, what Thou dost forbid.

I say it again: as You would have me. I am free, yet I am Your servant. I listen for what You command and what You forbid.

Whatsoever place or post Thou assignest me, sooner will I die a thousand deaths, as Socrates said, than desert it. And where wilt Thou have me to be? At Rome or Athens? At Thebes or on a desert island? Only remember me there! Shouldst Thou send me where man cannot live as Nature would have him, I will depart, not in disobedience to Thee, but as though Thou wert sounding the signal for my retreat: I am not deserting Thee—far be that from me! I only perceive that thou needest me no longer.

Whatever place or position You assign me, I would rather die a thousand deaths, as Socrates said, than abandon it. And where do You want me to be? At Rome or Athens? At Thebes or on a desert island? Just remember me there! If You send me where people cannot live as Nature intended, I will leave. But not because I'm disobeying You. I'll leave because You're signaling it's time for me to retreat. I'm not deserting You—not at all! I simply understand that You no longer need me.

If you are in Gyaros, do not let your mind dwell upon life at Rome, and all the pleasures it offered to you when living there, and all that would attend your return. Rather be intent on this—how he that lives in Gyaros may live in Gyaros like a man of spirit. And if you are at Rome, do not let your mind dwell upon the life at Athens, but study only how to live at Rome.

If you're in Gyaros, don't let your mind dwell on life in Rome. Don't think about all the pleasures you enjoyed there or what would await you if you returned. Instead, focus on this: how can someone living in Gyaros live there with dignity and strength? And if you're in Rome, don't let your mind wander to life in Athens. Study only how to live well in Rome.

Finally, in the room of all other pleasures put this—the pleasure which springs from conscious obedience to God.

Finally, in place of all other pleasures, put this one: the pleasure that comes from knowing that you are obeying God.

To a good man there is no evil, either in life or death. And if God supply not food, has He not, as a wise Commander, sounded the signal for retreat and nothing more? I obey, I follow—speaking good of my Commander, and praising His acts. For at His good pleasure I came; and I depart when it pleases Him; and while I was yet alive that was my work, to sing praises unto God!

Nothing bad can happen to a good person, whether in life or in death. If God doesn't provide food, hasn't He simply given the signal to retreat, like a wise Commander? That's all it is. I obey. I follow. I speak well of my Commander and praise what He does. I came into this world when it pleased Him. I'll leave when it pleases Him. While I was alive, my job was to sing praises to God.

Reflect that the chief source of all evils to Man, and of baseness and cowardice, is not death, but the fear of death.

Consider this: the main source of all human evils, of weakness and cowardice, is not death itself, but the fear of death.

Against this fear then, I pray you, harden yourself; to this let all your reasonings, your exercises, your reading tend. Then shall you know that thus alone are men set free.

So I urge you to strengthen yourself against this fear. Let all your thinking, your practice, and your study focus on this. Only then will you understand that this is the one way people become truly free.

He is free who lives as he wishes to live; to whom none can do violence, none hinder or compel; whose impulses are unimpeded, whose desires are attain their purpose, who falls not into what he would avoid. Who then would live in error?—None. Who would live deceived and prone to fall, unjust, intemperate, in abject whining at his lot?—None. Then doth no wicked man live as he would, and therefore neither is he free.

A free person lives as they wish to live. No one can force them, block them, or make them do anything. Their impulses flow freely. Their desires reach their goals. They avoid what they want to avoid. Who wants to live in error? No one. Who wants to live deceived and likely to fail, unjust, lacking self-control, complaining miserably about their fate? No one. So no wicked person lives as they would choose. This means they are not free either.

Thus do the more cautious of travellers act. The road is said to be beset by robbers. The traveller will not venture alone, but awaits the companionship on the road of an ambassador, a quaestor or a proconsul. To him he attaches himself and thus passes by in safety. So doth the wise man in the world. Many are the companies of robbers and tyrants, many the storms, the straits, the losses of all a man holds dearest. Whither shall he fall for refuge—how shall he pass by unassailed? What companion on the road shall he await for protection? Such and such a wealthy man, of consular rank? And how shall I be profited, if he is stripped and falls to lamentation and weeping? And how if my fellow-traveller himself turns upon me and robs me? What am I to do? I will become a friend of Cæsar’s! in his train none will do me wrong! In the first place—O the indignities I must endure to win distinction! O the multitude of hands there will be to rob me! And if I succeed, Cæsar too is but a mortal. While should it come to pass that I offend him, whither shall I flee from his presence? To the wilderness? And may not fever await me there? What then is to be done? Cannot a fellow-traveller be found that is honest and loyal, strong and secure against surprise? Thus doth the wise man reason, considering that if he would pass through in safety, he must attach himself unto God.

This is how careful travelers act. When a road is said to be full of robbers, the traveler won't go alone. He waits for company on the road—an ambassador, a quaestor, or a proconsul. He attaches himself to this person and passes through safely. The wise person acts the same way in the world. There are many gangs of robbers and tyrants. There are many storms, hardships, and losses of everything a person holds dear. Where can he find refuge? How can he pass through unharmed? What traveling companion should he wait for to protect him? Some wealthy person of consular rank? But how does that help me if he gets robbed and starts crying and wailing? What if my fellow traveler turns on me and robs me himself? What should I do? I'll become a friend of Caesar's! In his company, no one will wrong me! But first, think of the humiliations I must endure to win such distinction! Think of all the people who will rob me along the way! And even if I succeed, Caesar is only a mortal. What if I offend him? Where can I flee from his presence? To the wilderness? But fever might await me there. So what should be done? Can't I find a traveling companion who is honest and loyal, strong and safe from attack? This is how the wise person reasons. He considers that if he wants to pass through safely, he must attach himself to God.

“How understandest thou attach himself to God?”

"What do you mean by attach himself to God?"

That what God wills, he should will also; that what God wills not, neither should he will.

What God wants, you should want too. What God doesn't want, you shouldn't want either.

“How then may this come to pass?”

"So how can this happen?"

By considering the movements of God, and His administration.

By thinking about how God moves and governs the universe.

And dost thou that hast received all from another’s hands, repine and blame the Giver, if He takes anything from thee? Why, who art thou, and to what end comest thou here? was it not He that made the Light manifest unto thee, that gave thee fellow-workers, and senses, and the power to reason? And how brought He thee into the world? Was it not as one born to die; as one bound to live out his earthly life in some small tabernacle of flesh; to behold His administration, and for a little while share with Him in the mighty march of this great Festival Procession? Now therefore that thou hast beheld, while it was permitted thee, the Solemn Feast and Assembly, wilt thou not cheerfully depart, when He summons thee forth, with adoration and thanksgiving for what thou hast seen and heard?—“Nay, but I would fain have stayed longer at the Festival.”—Ah, so would the mystics fain have the rites prolonged; so perchance would the crowd at the Great Games fain behold more wrestlers still. But the Solemn Assembly is over! Come forth, depart with thanksgiving and modesty—give place to others that must come into being even as thyself.

You have received everything from another’s hands. Do you then complain and blame the Giver if he takes anything from you? Why, who are you, and for what purpose do you come here? Was it not he who made the Light visible to you, and gave you fellow-workers, and senses, and the power to reason? And how did he bring you into the world? Was it not as one born to die? As one bound to live out his earthly life in some small tent of flesh, to see his administration, and for a little while to share with him in the mighty march of this great Festival Procession? Now, then, you have seen the Solemn Feast and Assembly for as long as you were permitted. Will you not leave cheerfully when he summons you out, with adoration and thanksgiving for what you have seen and heard? “No, but I would have liked to stay longer at the Festival.” Ah, so the initiates at the Mysteries would like the rites to go on longer. So perhaps would the crowd at the Great Games like to see still more wrestlers. But the Solemn Assembly is over! Come out, and leave with thanksgiving and modesty. Make room for others who must come into being, just as you did.

Why art thou thus insatiable? why thus unreasonable? why encumber the world?—“Aye, but I fain would have my wife and children with me too.”—What, are they then thine, and not His that gave them—His that made thee? Give up then that which is not thine own: yield it to One who is better than thou. “Nay, but why did He bring one into the world on these conditions?”—If it suits thee not, depart! He hath no need of a spectator who finds fault with his lot! Them that will take part in the Feast he needeth—that will lift their voices with the rest that men may applaud the more, and exalt the Great Assembly in hymns and songs of praise. But the wretched and the fearful He will not be displeased to see absent from it: for when they were present, they did not behave as at a Feast, nor fulfil their proper office; but moaned as though in pain, and found fault with their fate, their fortune and their companions; insensible to what had fallen to their lot, insensible to the powers they had received for a very different purpose—the powers of Magnanimity, Nobility of Heart, of Fortitude, or Freedom!

Why are you so insatiable? Why so unreasonable? Why burden the world like this? "But I want my wife and children with me too." What, are they yours, and not His who gave them to you? Not His who made you? Give up what isn't your own. Yield it to One who is better than you. "But why did He bring me into the world on these conditions?" If it doesn't suit you, leave! He has no need of a spectator who complains about his lot. He needs those who will take part in the Feast. Those who will lift their voices with the rest so people may applaud even more. Those who will exalt the Great Assembly in hymns and songs of praise. But the wretched and the fearful? He will not be displeased to see them absent from it. When they were present, they did not behave as at a Feast. They did not fulfill their proper role. Instead they moaned as though in pain. They found fault with their fate, their fortune, and their companions. They were blind to what had fallen to their lot. Blind to the powers they had received for a very different purpose. The powers of Magnanimity, Nobility of Heart, Fortitude, and Freedom!

Art thou then free? a man may say. So help me heaven, I long and pray for freedom! But I cannot look my masters boldly in the face; I still value the poor body; I still set much store on its preservation whole and sound.

Are you free, then? someone may say. So help me heaven, I long and pray for freedom! But I cannot look my masters boldly in the face. I still value this poor body. I still care a great deal about keeping it whole and sound.

But I can point thee out a free man, that thou mayest be no more in search of an example. Diogenes was free. How so? Not because he was of free parentage (for that, indeed, was not the case), but because he was himself free. He had cast away every handle whereby slavery might lay hold of him to enslave him, nor was it possible for any to approach and take hold of him to enslave him. All things sat loose upon him—all things were to him attached by but slender ties. Hadst thou seized upon his possessions, he would rather have let them go than have followed thee for them—aye, had it been even a limb, or mayhap his whole body; and in like manner, relatives, friends, and country. For he knew whence they came—from whose hands and on what terms he had received them. His true forefathers, the Gods, his true Country, he never would have abandoned; nor would he have yielded to any man in obedience and submission to the one nor in cheerfully dying for the other. For he was ever mindful that everything that comes to pass has its source and origin there; being indeed brought about for the weal of that his true Country, and directed by Him in whose governance it is.

I can show you a free man so you don't have to keep searching for an example. Diogenes was free. How so? Not because he was born free (that wasn't actually the case), but because he made himself free. He had thrown away every handle that slavery might use to grab him and enslave him. No one could approach him and take hold of him to make him a slave. Everything sat loosely on him. All things were attached to him by only the thinnest threads. If you had seized his possessions, he would have let them go rather than follow you to get them back. Yes, even if it had been a limb, or perhaps his whole body. The same went for relatives, friends, and country. He knew where they came from. He knew from whose hands and on what terms he had received them. His true ancestors, the Gods, and his true Country, he never would have abandoned. He wouldn't have yielded to any man in obedience and submission to the one, nor in cheerfully dying for the other. He always remembered that everything that happens has its source and origin there. It is brought about for the good of that true Country, and directed by Him in whose governance it exists.

Ponder on this—on these convictions, on these words: fix thine eyes on these examples, if thou wouldst be free, if thou hast thine heart set upon the matter according to its worth. And what marvel if thou purchase so great a thing at so great and high a price? For the sake of this that men deem liberty, some hang themselves, others cast themselves down from the rock; aye, time has been when whole cities came utterly to an end: while for the sake of Freedom that is true, and sure, and unassailable, dost thou grudge to God what He gave, when He claims it? Wilt thou not study, as Plato saith, to endure, not death alone, but torture, exile, stripes—in a word, to render up all that is not thine own? Else thou wilt be a slave amid slaves, wert thou ten thousand times a consul; aye, not a whit the less, though thou climb the Palace steps. And thou shalt know how true the saying of Cleanthes, that though the words of philosophers may run counter to the opinions of the world, yet have they reason on their side.

Think about this. Focus on these beliefs, these words. Keep your eyes on these examples if you want to be free, if you truly value freedom. Is it any wonder that something so great costs so much? For what people call liberty, some have hanged themselves. Others have thrown themselves off cliffs. There have been times when entire cities were destroyed. So for the sake of true Freedom, the kind that is real, certain, and unshakeable, will you begrudge God what He gave when He asks for it back? Won't you study, as Plato says, to endure not just death, but torture, exile, and beatings? In short, to give up everything that isn't truly yours? Otherwise you'll be a slave among slaves, even if you were consul ten thousand times over. Yes, you'll still be a slave even if you climb the Palace steps. And you'll understand how true Cleanthes' saying is: though philosophers' words may contradict popular opinion, they have reason on their side.

Asked how a man should best grieve his enemy, Epictetus replied, “By setting himself to live the noblest life himself.”

When asked how someone could best hurt their enemy, Epictetus replied, "By living the noblest life possible."

I am free, I am a friend of God, ready to render Him willing obedience. Of all else I may set store by nothing—neither by mine own body, nor possessions, nor office, nor good report, nor, in a word, aught else beside. For it is not His Will, that I should so set store by these things. Had it been His pleasure, He would have placed my Good therein. But now He hath not done so: therefore I cannot transgress one jot of His commands. In everything hold fast to that which is thy Good—but to all else (as far as is given thee) within the measure of Reason only, contented with this alone. Else thou wilt meet with failure, ill success, let and hindrance. These are the Laws ordained of God—these are His Edicts; these a man should expound and interpret; to these submit himself, not to the laws of Masurius and Cassius.

I am free. I am a friend of God, ready to obey him willingly. I am permitted to value nothing else at all: not my own body, nor possessions, nor office, nor good reputation, nor, in a word, anything else. For it is not his will that I should value these things. Had it pleased him, he would have placed my Good in them. But as it is, he has not done so. So I cannot break even the smallest of his commands. In everything, hold fast to what is your Good. But hold to everything else (as far as this is given you) only within the measure of Reason, content with this alone. Otherwise you will meet with failure, bad results, obstacles and hindrance. These are the Laws ordained by God. These are his Edicts. These a man should explain and interpret, and to these he should submit himself, not to the laws of Masurius and Cassius.

Remember that not the love of power and wealth sets us under the heel of others, but even the love of tranquillity, of leisure, of change of scene—of learning in general, it matters not what the outward thing may be—to set store by it is to place thyself in subjection to another. Where is the difference then between desiring to be a Senator, and desiring not to be one: between thirsting for office and thirsting to be quit of it? Where is the difference between crying, Woe is me, I know not what to do, bound hand and foot as I am to my books so that I cannot stir! and crying, Woe is me, I have not time to read! As though a book were not as much an outward thing and independent of the will, as office and power and the receptions of the great.

Remember that it's not just the love of power and wealth that puts us under others' control. Even the love of peace and quiet, of free time, of travel, or of learning can do the same. It doesn't matter what the external thing is. When you value it highly, you place yourself under someone else's power. What's the difference between wanting to be a Senator and wanting not to be one? Between craving office and craving to be free of it? What's the difference between crying, Woe is me, I don't know what to do, chained to my books so I can't move! and crying, Woe is me, I have no time to read! A book is just as much an external thing, independent of your will, as office and power and invitations from important people.

Or what reason hast thou (tell me) for desiring to read? For if thou aim at nothing beyond the mere delight of it, or gaining some scrap of knowledge, thou art but a poor, spiritless knave. But if thou desirest to study to its proper end, what else is this than a life that flows on tranquil and serene? And if thy reading secures thee not serenity, what profits it?—“Nay, but it doth secure it,” quoth he, “and that is why I repine at being deprived of it.”—And what serenity is this that lies at the mercy of every passer-by? I say not at the mercy of the Emperor or Emperor’s favorite, but such as trembles at a raven’s croak and piper’s din, a fever’s touch or a thousand things of like sort! Whereas the life serene has no more certain mark than this, that it ever moves with constant unimpeded flow.

Why do you want to read? If you're only after entertainment or a bit of knowledge, you're a pathetic, weak-willed fool. But if you want to study for the right reason, what is that reason? A life that flows peacefully and calmly. And if your reading doesn't give you peace of mind, what good is it? "But it does give me peace," you say, "and that's why I'm upset about losing it." What kind of peace is this if any random person can destroy it? I'm not talking about the Emperor or his favorites. I mean the kind that falls apart at a raven's caw, a flute player's noise, a touch of fever, or a thousand other trivial things! True peace has one unmistakable sign: it moves forward constantly, without anything blocking its flow.

If thou hast put malice and evil speaking from thee, altogether, or in some degree: if thou hast put away from thee rashness, foulness of tongue, intemperance, sluggishness: if thou art not moved by what once moved thee, or in like manner as thou once wert moved—then thou mayest celebrate a daily festival, to-day because thou hast done well in this manner, to-morrow in that. How much greater cause is here for offering sacrifice, than if a man should become Consul or Prefect?

If you've rid yourself of malice and evil speech, completely or even partly, you have reason to celebrate. If you've cast away rashness, foul language, excess, and laziness, that's cause for joy too. If things that once upset you no longer do, or at least don't affect you the same way, then you can celebrate a daily festival. Today because you handled this situation well. Tomorrow because you handled that one well. This gives you far greater reason to offer thanks than if you became a Consul or Prefect.

These things hast thou from thyself and from the Gods: only remember who it is that giveth them—to whom and for what purpose they were given. Feeding thy soul on thoughts like these, dost thou debate in what place happiness awaits thee? in what place thou shalt do God’s pleasure? Are not the Gods nigh unto all places alike; see they not alike what everywhere comes to pass?

You have these things from yourself and from the Gods. Just remember who gives them to you, who receives them, and why they were given. When you feed your soul on thoughts like these, do you really need to debate where happiness awaits you? Do you wonder where you'll please God? Aren't the Gods near to all places equally? Don't they see what happens everywhere just the same?

To each man God hath granted this inward freedom. These are the principles that in a house create love, in a city concord, among nations peace, teaching a man gratitude towards God and cheerful confidence, wherever he may be, in dealing with outward things that he knows are neither his nor worth striving after.

God has given every person this inner freedom. These principles create love in a home, harmony in a city, and peace between nations. They teach us to be grateful to God and confident as we deal with external things. We learn that these things don't truly belong to us and aren't worth chasing after.

If you seek Truth, you will not seek to gain a victory by every possible means; and when you have found Truth, you need not fear being defeated.

If you're searching for truth, you won't try to win arguments by any means necessary. Once you've found truth, you won't need to worry about being proven wrong.

What foolish talk is this? how can I any longer lay claim to right principles, if I am not content with being what I am, but am all aflutter about what I am supposed to be?

What foolish talk is this? How can I still claim to have right principles, if I am not content with being what I am, but am all in a flutter about what others take me to be?