The Enchiridion of Epictetus

This is a modern English rendering of Epictetus's Enchiridion, the practical handbook of Stoic philosophy compiled by his student Arrian around 125 AD. Epictetus was born a slave in Phrygia around 50 AD, taught philosophy in Rome, was banished by the Emperor Domitian around 93 AD, and spent the rest of his life teaching in Nicopolis, Greece. The Enchiridion — Greek for "handbook" or "ready-at-hand" — distills his teaching from the longer Discourses into fifty-one short sections meant to be memorized and applied directly to daily life. The translation this rendering works from is Thomas Wentworth Higginson's 1865 English version, the standard public-domain text and the one available at Project Gutenberg. What follows is not a literal translation. It is a modern rendering: the language is updated for contemporary readers while preserving Epictetus's structure, his arguments, and his Stoic vocabulary. The book's central distinction — that some things are in our control and others are not, and that freedom is built by attending to the first and accepting the second — runs through every section. Moment's daily mortality practice is inspired by Stoic writings like this one, which train the mind to face what is uncertain by holding firm to what is up to us.

I.

Some things are within our power, and some are not. Within our power are our opinions, our intentions, our desires, our aversions — whatever is properly our own activity. Beyond our power are our bodies, our property, our reputation, our position — whatever is not properly our own doing.

What is within our power is naturally free, unrestricted, unhindered. What is beyond our power is weak, dependent, restricted, belonging to others. Remember this: if you treat things that are by nature dependent as if they were free, and treat what belongs to others as if it were your own, you will be obstructed, you will grieve, you will be disturbed, you will blame both gods and other people. But if you take as your own only what is actually yours, and see what belongs to others as it actually is, no one will ever compel you. No one will obstruct you. You will blame no one, accuse no one. You will do nothing against your will. No one will harm you. You will not have an enemy. You will not suffer any harm.

If you aim at things this great, remember that you cannot pursue them with half-attention. Some things you must give up entirely. Others you must postpone for now. If you try to have these and also have power and wealth, you will probably miss both — and you will certainly fail to gain the one thing through which happiness and freedom are actually procured.

Train yourself, therefore, to say to every troubling impression: "You are only an impression, and not at all the thing you seem to be." Then examine the impression by the rules you have, beginning with this one: does it concern things within our power, or things beyond it? And if it concerns something beyond your power, be ready to say: "It is nothing to me."

II.

Desire pursues what it wants. Aversion flees what it fears. The person who fails to get what they desire is disappointed. The person who runs into what they fear is wretched. So if you avoid only what you can control, you will never run into what you fear. But if you try to avoid sickness, or death, or poverty, you will be wretched.

Withdraw aversion from everything not within your power, and apply it instead to the things within your power that are worth avoiding. For now, hold desire back altogether. If you desire something not within your power, you must be disappointed. And the things within your power, the proper objects of desire, you have not yet mastered. Where it is practically necessary to pursue or avoid something, do even that with restraint and gentleness and moderation.

III.

Concerning anything that delights you, is useful to you, or that you are deeply attached to, remind yourself what kind of thing it is, beginning with the smallest. If you have a favorite cup, say to yourself, "It is a cup I am fond of." Then, when it breaks, you can bear it. If you embrace your child or your spouse, say to yourself, "I am embracing a mortal." Then, if they die, you can bear it.

IV.

When you are about to undertake any action, remind yourself what kind of action it is. If you are going to the baths, picture in advance what usually happens there: some people splashing, some pushing, some scolding, some stealing. You will go to the baths more safely if you say to yourself, "I want to bathe, and I want to keep my own will in harmony with nature." And do the same for every other action. Then, when something goes wrong at the baths, you can say, "It was not only to bathe that I wanted, but to keep my will in harmony with nature. And I cannot keep it that way if I lose my temper at what happens."

V.

People are disturbed not by things, but by the views they take of things. Death itself is not terrible, or it would have appeared so to Socrates. The terror lies in our opinion about death — that it is terrible. So whenever we are hindered, or disturbed, or grieved, let us not blame others, but ourselves — meaning, our own opinions. The uneducated person blames others for his misfortunes. The person beginning his education blames himself. The fully educated person blames no one.

VI.

Do not be proud of any excellence that is not your own. If a horse could be proud and say, "I am beautiful," that would be tolerable. But when you say, "I have a beautiful horse," you are taking pride in the merit of the horse. So what is actually your own? The use you make of impressions. When you use them in accordance with nature, then you will have something to be proud of: you will be taking pride in something that is actually your own.

VII.

When a ship is at anchor and you go ashore for water, you might pick up a shellfish or a truffle on the way. But your attention has to stay on the ship: when the captain calls, you must drop everything and not be carried back on board bound like a sheep. So it is in life. If, instead of a shellfish, you are granted a wife or a child, fine. But when the captain calls, run to the ship and leave everything, and do not look back. And if you are old, do not wander far, lest you are missing when the call comes.

VIII.

Do not demand that events happen as you wish. Instead, wish them to happen as they do happen. Then you will go on well.

IX.

Sickness is an obstacle to the body, but not to the will, unless the will agrees that it is. Lameness is an obstacle to the leg, but not to the will. Say this to yourself about every event. You will find that it is an obstacle to something else, but not, truly, to you.

X.

When anything happens, remember to turn your attention inward and ask: what capacity do I have for handling this? If you meet someone beautiful, you will find that self-restraint is the capacity needed. If you meet pain, fortitude. If you meet insult, patience. If you make a habit of this, impressions will not overwhelm you.

XI.

Never say of anything, "I have lost it." Say instead, "I have given it back." Has your child died? You have given them back. Has your spouse died? You have given them back. Has your property been taken? That, too, you have given back. "But the person who took it was bad." What is it to you whose hands the giver used when reclaiming the gift? While you have it, treat it as something not your own — like a guest in an inn.

XII.

If you want to improve, you must give up reasoning like this: "If I neglect my affairs, I will starve." "If I do not punish my servant, he will be useless." It is better to die of hunger, free from grief and fear, than to live well-fed and disturbed. And it is better that your servant be bad than that you be unhappy.

Begin with small things. Is a little oil spilled, a little wine stolen? Say to yourself, "This is the price I pay for peace and tranquility. Nothing comes free." And when you call your servant, remember that he may not come, or if he comes, may not do what you want. He is in no position to disturb you — and it is certainly not desirable that he should be.

XIII.

If you want to improve, be willing to be thought foolish and slow in matters of externals. Do not want to be thought knowledgeable. If others appear to think you are someone, distrust yourself. It is hard to hold your will in harmony with nature and secure external success at the same time. If you are giving attention to one, you will necessarily neglect the other.

XIV.

If you wish your children and your spouse and your friends to live forever, you are foolish. You wish for things to be in your power which are not in your power. You wish for what belongs to others to be your own. In the same way, if you wish your servant to be without fault, you are foolish. You wish for vice to be something other than vice. But if you wish not to be disappointed in your desires, that is something within your power. Practice, then, what is in your power.

The master of any person is whoever can give or take away what that person wants or fears. Anyone who wants to be free, therefore, must want nothing and reject nothing that depends on others. Otherwise they will be a slave.

XV.

Remember to behave as if at a banquet. Is something passed to you? Reach out and take a moderate share. Does it pass you by? Do not stop it. Has it not reached you yet? Do not stretch out your desire for it; wait until it comes. Behave this way with children, with marriage, with office, with wealth, and you will be worthy in time to feast with the gods. And if you can decline even what is set before you, you will be worthy not only to feast with the gods but to rule alongside them. By doing this, Diogenes and Heraclitus and others like them deservedly became divine, and were recognized as such.

XVI.

When you see someone weeping in grief — because his son has gone abroad, or because he has suffered some loss — be careful not to be carried away by the appearance of evil. Discriminate, and be ready to say: "What hurts this person is not the event itself, since another person would not be hurt by it. What hurts him is the view he is taking of it." As far as the conversation goes, however, do not refuse to accommodate him, and even, if needed, to groan with him. But take care not to groan inwardly, too.

XVII.

Remember: you are an actor in a play whose author has chosen the part. If the play is short, you act in a short play. If long, in a long one. If the author wishes you to play a poor person, a cripple, a ruler, or a private citizen — play that part well. Your job is to act the assigned part well. Choosing the part belongs to someone else.

XVIII.

When a raven happens to caw unluckily, do not be carried away by the appearance. Discriminate, and say: "This portends nothing to me, neither to my body nor to my property, my reputation, my children, or my spouse. To me, every sign is favorable, if I will it so. Whatever happens, I can derive some advantage from it."

XIX.

You can be unconquerable, if you never enter a contest where the victory is not in your power. So when you see someone who is honored or powerful or held in high esteem, do not be dazzled by appearances and call him happy. If the essence of good lies in things within our power, there is no place for envy or rivalry. As for you — do not want to be a general, a senator, or a consul. Want to be free. The only path to that is disregard for what is not in your power.

XX.

Remember: it is not the person who gives the abuse or the blow who insults you. It is your opinion that these things are insulting. So when someone provokes you, know that it is your own judgment that has provoked you. Try, first of all, not to be carried away by the appearance. If you can give yourself even a little time, you will more easily command yourself.

XXI.

Let death and exile and everything else that appears terrible be daily before your eyes — but death most of all. Then you will never entertain any base thought, nor crave anything too greedily.

XXII.

If you have a serious desire for philosophy, prepare yourself from the start to be laughed at and sneered at by the crowd. They will say, "He has returned to us as a philosopher all at once," and "Where did this superior look come from?" Do not put on a superior look — but hold steadily to what seems best to you, as one assigned by God to this particular post. Remember: if you persist, those who at first ridiculed you will eventually admire you. But if you are conquered by them, you will be ridiculed twice over.

XXIII.

If you ever find yourself turning toward externals to please someone, know that you have ruined your way of life. Be content in everything with being a philosopher. If you also wish to seem one to others, seem one to yourself — that will be enough.

XXIV.

Do not let thoughts like this disturb you: "I will live in disgrace, a nobody, anywhere I go." If disgrace is an evil, you cannot be involved in evil through another person any more than you can be involved in baseness through another person. Is it your business to gain power or be admitted to a dinner party? Of course not. Then how is this disgrace? And how is it true that you will be nobody anywhere, when you only need to be somebody in things within your power — where you can be of the greatest consequence?

"But my friends will be unhelped." What do you mean by "unhelped"? They will not receive money from you, nor will you make them Roman citizens. Who told you that these are things in your power, rather than the affairs of others? And who can give to another what he himself does not have? "Well, get them, then, so we can share." If I can get them while keeping my own honor and integrity and self-respect, show me how, and I will. But if you ask me to lose what is actually mine so you can gain what is not really good, see how unreasonable you are.

Besides — which would you rather have: a sum of money, or a faithful and honorable friend? Help me to be the second, then, rather than requiring me to do the things that would make me lose it.

"But my country will be unhelped, as far as depends on me." Again — what kind of help do you mean? It will not have porticos or baths from you? So what? A blacksmith does not provide it with shoes, nor a shoemaker with weapons. It is enough that each person performs his own proper work well. And if you give your country another faithful and honorable citizen — even if that citizen is only yourself — is that not useful to it?

"What place, then, will I hold in the state?" Whatever place you can hold while keeping your integrity. But if, in trying to be useful to the state, you lose your integrity, what use can you be to it as someone faithless and shameless?

XXV.

Has someone been preferred to you at a dinner, or in greetings, or in confidential conversation? If these things are good, you should be glad he has them. If they are bad, do not be grieved that you do not. And remember: you cannot expect to be on equal terms with others in externals without using the same means to obtain them. How can someone who never frequents another person's door, never attends him, never praises him, expect to share his rewards equally with someone who does?

You are unjust and unreasonable if you are unwilling to pay the price and yet expect the goods for nothing. How much are lettuces sold for? An obol, let us say. If someone pays the obol and takes the lettuces, and you, not paying, go without them, do not think he has gained anything over you. He has the lettuces; you have the obol you did not give. The same applies here. You were not invited to that dinner because you did not pay the price the host charges. He sells dinners for praise and attendance. Give him the price, then, if it is worth it to you. But if you want to have the goods without paying, you are unreasonable and foolish.

Do you have nothing instead of the dinner? Yes, you have something. You did not praise someone you did not want to praise. You did not have to tolerate the insolence of his servants.

XXVI.

The will of nature can be learned from cases where we all agree. When your neighbor's child breaks a cup, we all readily say, "These things happen." Be assured, then, that when your own cup breaks, you should be affected the same way you were when your neighbor's broke. Now apply this to bigger things. Has someone else's child died, or wife? There is no one who would not say, "This is the human condition." But if his own child dies, immediately it is "Alas! How wretched I am!" Always remember how we feel when the same thing happens to others.

XXVII.

A target is not set up so that someone will miss it. In the same way, the nature of evil does not exist in the universe.

XXVIII.

If someone handed your body over to any passerby, you would be furious. So why do you feel no shame when you hand your mind over to anyone who insults you, to be disturbed and confounded?

XXIX.

In any undertaking, consider what comes before and what comes after, and then begin. Otherwise you will start with enthusiasm — careless of consequences — and when the consequences appear, you will shamefully back out.

"I want to win at the Olympic Games." Fine. But consider what comes before and after. You will have to submit to rules, eat what your trainer says, refrain from delicacies, exercise whether you feel like it or not, in heat and cold. You cannot drink cold water, and sometimes no wine. You hand yourself over to your trainer the way you would to a physician. Then, in the actual match, you may be thrown into the sand, twist your wrist, sprain your ankle, swallow a mouthful of dust, take a beating — and after all that, lose. Reckon up all of this, and if you still want to compete, then enter the contest. Otherwise you will behave like children who play at being wrestlers, then gladiators, then trumpeters, then tragic actors — whatever they have just seen and admired. So you, too, will be at one moment an athlete, then a gladiator, then a philosopher, then an orator — and nothing in earnest. Like an ape you mimic whatever you see, and one thing after another pleases you for a moment and then bores you, because you have never entered into anything after considering it fully.

So some people, after hearing a philosopher speak like Euphrates — though who can actually speak like him? — want to be philosophers themselves. Consider first, friend, what the matter is, and what your own nature can bear. If you want to be a wrestler, look at your shoulders, your back, your thighs — different people are made for different things. Do you think you can keep eating, drinking, getting angry, being dissatisfied — and also be a philosopher? You will have to keep watch over yourself, work hard, master certain appetites, leave your familiar circle, be looked down on by your servant, laughed at by strangers, come off worse than others in every external matter — office, honors, the courts. Consider all this fully. Then approach — if you still want to — that is, if you are willing to trade these things for serenity, freedom, and tranquility. If not, do not approach. Do not be, like a child, now a philosopher, then a tax collector, then an orator, then one of Caesar's officials. These things do not go together. You have to be one person — good or bad. You have to cultivate either your own reason or externals. Either work on what is within you, or on what is outside you. Either be a philosopher or one of the crowd.

XXX.

Duties are measured by relationships. Is someone your father? In that lies the duty of caring for him, deferring to him in everything, bearing his rebukes and corrections patiently. "But he is a bad father." Is your natural duty to a good father, or to a father? To a father. Is your brother unjust? Then preserve your own just relation to him. Do not look at what he is doing — look at what you must do to keep your will in harmony with nature. Another person cannot harm you unless you allow it. You are harmed only when you consent to be harmed. Get into the habit of contemplating your relationships — to neighbor, to citizen, to commander — and you will derive from each the proper duty.

XXXI.

The essence of piety toward the gods is this: to form correct opinions about them, recognizing them as existing and as governing the universe justly and well, and to commit yourself to obey them, yield to them, and follow them willingly in everything that happens, as ruled by the most perfect wisdom. Then you will never blame the gods or accuse them of neglecting you.

You cannot reach this state in any other way than by withdrawing your sense of good and evil from things not in your power, and locating good and evil only in what is. If you regard anything outside your power as good or evil, then it is inevitable that, when you are disappointed of what you wanted, or run into what you fear, you will reproach and blame whoever caused it. Every creature is naturally formed to flee what seems harmful and what causes harm, and to pursue what seems beneficial and what causes benefit. So it is impossible for someone who thinks he has been harmed to rejoice in the person who, as he sees it, harmed him — just as it is impossible to rejoice in the harm itself.

This is why a son will revile a father who does not share what seems good to him. It is what made Polynices and Eteocles enemies — both saw the throne as a good. The farmer reviles the gods over the weather; the sailor over storms; the merchant over a bad market; those who have lost a wife or child over their grief. Wherever our interest lies, our piety is directed there. So anyone who is careful to regulate his desires and aversions correctly is, in the same act, made pious.

But it also remains a duty for everyone to offer libations and sacrifices and first fruits according to the customs of his country — done purely, not heedlessly or negligently, neither stingily nor extravagantly.

XXXII.

When you consult a diviner, remember that you do not know what the outcome will be — and that is what you are coming to learn — but you do know, before you arrive, what kind of thing it is (if you are of a philosophical mind). If it is among the things not in your power, it cannot be either good or evil. Do not, then, bring to the diviner either desire or aversion. If you do, you will approach him trembling. Understand clearly, first, that every outcome is indifferent and nothing to you, whatever it may be — because making good use of it will be in your power, and no one can prevent that. Then come confidently to the gods as your counselors. And when counsel has been given, remember whose advice you have asked for, and whose advice you will be defying if you disobey.

Approach divination the way Socrates prescribed: only in cases where the whole question depends on the outcome, and where reason or any other skill provides no way of seeing into the matter. When it is our duty to share the danger of a friend or our country, we should not consult an oracle about whether to do so. Even if the diviner foretells unfavorable signs — that this risk means death, mutilation, or exile — we have reason within us, and reason directs us to stand by our friend or country anyway. Attend to the greater diviner, the Pythian God, who once cast out of his temple a man who had neglected to save his friend.

XXXIII.

Begin by setting a character and bearing for yourself that you can preserve both alone and in company.

Be silent for the most part. Speak only what is necessary, in few words. We can enter into conversation when the occasion calls for it, but not on the common subjects — gladiators, horse races, athletes, food, drink — and especially not about people, blaming or praising or comparing them. If you can, steer your company's conversation toward worthier subjects. If you are with strangers, stay silent.

Do not laugh loudly, frequently, or excessively.

Avoid taking oaths, if possible, altogether. Failing that, as far as you can.

Avoid public and crude entertainments. If an occasion calls you to one, keep your attention taut, so that you do not slide imperceptibly into the crowd's mood. Even a pure person, if he keeps company with the corrupted, is bound to be corrupted himself.

Provide for the body no more than absolute need requires: food, drink, clothing, housing, household help. Cut off everything that tends toward show and luxury.

About sex: before marriage, guard yourself from unlawful intercourse as well as you can. If you do, do not be harsh or uncharitable toward those who fail, and do not boast that you yourself have not.

If someone tells you that another person has been speaking ill of you, do not make excuses for what was said. Answer: "He was unaware of my other faults. Otherwise he would not have mentioned only these."

You do not need to appear often at public spectacles. If there is a proper occasion for you to be there, do not appear more invested in any other competitor than you are in yourself — that is, wish things to be just as they are, and that the best person wins. Then nothing will go against you. But abstain entirely from shouting, mocking, and violent emotion. And when you leave, do not talk at length about what happened. It would only show that you had been dazzled by the show.

Do not be eager to attend private readings. If you do attend, preserve your dignity, but avoid making yourself disagreeable.

When you are going to meet someone, especially someone in a higher position, picture in advance how Socrates or Zeno would behave there. You will not be at a loss for how to handle whatever happens.

When you are going to see someone in power, picture that you might not find him in, that you might be shut out, that the door might not be opened, that he might not notice you. If, with all this in mind, it is still your duty to go, then go, and bear what happens. Do not say to yourself, "It was not worth so much." That is the response of someone bewildered by externals.

In company, avoid mentioning your own actions and dangers frequently. However interesting it is to you to bring up the risks you have run, it is not equally interesting to others to hear about them. Avoid playing for laughs as well — it slides easily into vulgarity and tends to lower the esteem in which your friends hold you. Approaches to indecent talk are dangerous. When something of the kind comes up, use the first chance to rebuke whoever is moving the conversation that way — or, at minimum, by silence, by a frown, by a serious look, show yourself displeased.

XXXIV.

If you are dazzled by the appearance of any promised pleasure, guard yourself against being carried away by it. Let the matter wait. Get yourself some delay. Then bring two moments to mind: the moment when you will enjoy the pleasure, and the moment when, having enjoyed it, you will reproach yourself. Set these against how you will be glad and pleased with yourself if you abstain. And even if the moment seems right for the gratification, watch that its allurements and seductions do not subdue you. Set against it how much better it is to know you have won so great a victory.

XXXV.

When you act from a clear judgment that you ought to act, never be ashamed to be seen doing it, even if many people misunderstand. If the action is wrong, do not do it. If it is right, why fear those who would wrongly criticize you?

XXXVI.

The proposition "either it is day or it is night" works well in a disjunctive argument, but not in a conjunctive one. So, at a feast, to take the largest portion may suit the body's appetite, but is entirely inconsistent with the spirit of social hospitality. Remember, when you eat with someone, not only what is on the plate but also the courtesy due to your host.

XXXVII.

If you have taken on a role beyond your strength, you have both performed the role badly and given up one you could have performed.

XXXVIII.

In walking, you take care not to step on a nail or twist your foot. In the same way, take care not to injure the ruling part of your mind. If we kept this guard in every action, we would enter into action more safely.

XXXIX.

The body is the proper measure of its possessions, just as the foot is the proper measure of the shoe. If you stop at the measure, you keep it. If you go beyond, there is no stopping — you are carried as down a cliff. The shoe goes from useful, to gilded, to purple, to studded with jewels. Once you cross the boundary of fit measure, there is no further boundary.

XL.

Women, from their early teens, are flattered by men with attention to their beauty. Seeing this, they conclude that they are valued only insofar as they please men, and they begin to adorn themselves and place all their hopes there. It is worth helping them see, instead, that they are honored only insofar as their bearing is modest and virtuous.

XLI.

It is a sign of a weak intellect to spend a great deal of time on bodily matters — excessive exercise, eating, drinking, the other animal functions. These things should be done incidentally. The full strength of attention should go to reason.

XLII.

When someone treats you badly or speaks badly of you, remember that he is acting or speaking from his own sense that he is right. It is not possible for him to follow what appears right to you — he can only follow what appears right to him. So if he is judging from false appearances, he is the one harmed, since he is the one deceived. If someone takes a true statement to be false, the statement is not hurt — only the person is deceived. Starting from this, you will bear meekly with someone who reviles you, saying on each occasion: "That is how it seemed to him."

XLIII.

Everything has two handles — one by which it can be carried, one by which it cannot. If your brother does something unjust, do not pick up the affair by the handle of his injustice, because you cannot carry it by that handle. Pick it up by the other handle — that he is your brother, that you grew up together — and you will be holding it by the handle that bears.

XLIV.

The following are not logically connected: "I am richer than you, therefore I am better than you." "I am more eloquent than you, therefore I am better than you." The actual logical connection is this: "I am richer than you, therefore my property exceeds yours." "I am more eloquent than you, therefore my speech exceeds yours." But you, after all, are neither your property nor your speech.

XLV.

Does someone bathe quickly? Do not say he bathes badly. Say he bathes quickly. Does someone drink a lot of wine? Do not say he drinks badly. Say he drinks a lot. Until you know his reasons, how do you know he is acting badly? This way, you will not assent to any impression except the ones you fully understand.

XLVI.

Never proclaim yourself a philosopher. Do not speak about your principles much in front of the uninitiated. Show your principles in your actions. At a dinner, do not lecture about how people ought to eat. Eat as you ought. Remember, Socrates avoided every kind of showing off. When people came wanting to be introduced to philosophers, he took them and introduced them — without minding that he himself was being passed over. If there is talk of principles in front of the uninitiated, be mostly silent. There is real danger in throwing out, half-digested, what you have just taken in. And if someone tells you that you know nothing, and you are not stung by it, then you can be sure that you have actually begun the work. Sheep do not, after eating grass, throw it up to show the shepherd how much they have eaten. They digest inwardly, and produce outwardly wool and milk. So you, too: do not exhibit your principles to the uninitiated. Exhibit only the actions that come from their digestion.

XLVII.

When you have learned to nourish your body simply, do not preen about it. If you drink water, do not announce on every occasion, "I drink water." Consider how much more frugal the poor are than we are, and how much more patient of hardship. If you want to train yourself in labor and privation, for your own sake and not for show, do not attempt great feats. When you are extremely thirsty, just rinse your mouth with water, and tell no one.

XLVIII.

The condition and mark of an uneducated person: he never looks for either help or harm to come from himself, but only from outside. The condition and mark of a philosopher: he looks to himself for all help and all harm. The marks of someone making progress: he censures no one, praises no one, blames no one, accuses no one. He says nothing about himself as if he were someone, or as if he knew anything. When he is hindered or restrained, he accuses himself. If he is praised, he smiles inwardly at the person praising him. If he is censured, he makes no defense. He moves about cautiously, like a convalescent — careful not to disturb anything that is healing but not yet fully healed. He restrains desire. He transfers aversion only to those things that thwart the proper use of his own will. He uses his energies moderately, in every direction. If he appears stupid or ignorant, he does not care. In short, he keeps watch over himself as over an enemy in ambush.

XLIX.

When someone shows off for being able to understand and interpret Chrysippus, say to yourself: "If Chrysippus had not written obscurely, this person would have nothing to be proud of. But what is it that I want? To understand nature, and to follow it. I ask, then, who interprets nature. Hearing that Chrysippus does, I have recourse to him. I do not understand his writings. I seek, then, someone to interpret them." So far, there is nothing to take pride in. And when I find an interpreter, what remains is to act on his interpretation. That is the valuable thing. But if I admire only the interpretation, what am I but a grammarian instead of a philosopher — except that I interpret Chrysippus instead of Homer? When someone, therefore, asks me to expound Chrysippus, I blush — because I cannot exhibit actions that match his teaching.

L.

Whatever principles you have adopted, hold to them as if they were laws — as if you would be impious to break them. Pay no attention to what anyone says about you. That, after all, is not your concern. How much longer will you postpone demanding the best of yourself, and refusing to violate the judgments of reason? You have received the philosophical principles you should be living by. You have lived with them. So what other teacher are you waiting for, as an excuse for putting off your reformation? You are no longer a boy. You are a grown man. If you remain negligent and lazy, adding postponement to postponement, fixing day after day on which you will begin attending to yourself — you will gradually accomplish nothing, and, living and dying, remain among the common crowd.

This moment, then — think yourself worthy of living as a grown person who is making progress. Let whatever appears best to you be a law you will not break. If pain, or pleasure, or glory, or disgrace is set before you, remember: now is the contest. The Olympic Games are here. They cannot be put off. By a single failure, honor can be lost — or won. Socrates became Socrates this way, by improving himself in every encounter, by following reason alone. You are not yet Socrates, but you ought to live as someone trying to be Socrates.

LI.

The first and most necessary department of philosophy is the practical application of principles — for example, that we ought not to lie. The second is the demonstration of why — why we ought not to lie. The third gives strength and logical connection to the first two — by asking what a demonstration is, what a consequence is, what a contradiction is, what is true, what is false. The third department is necessary because of the second; the second, because of the first. But the most necessary, and the one we should rest in, is the first. We do the opposite. We spend all our time on the third, and apply all our effort there, and entirely neglect the first. So at the same time that we lie, we are very ready to demonstrate how it is shown that lying is wrong.

Keep these maxims at hand on every occasion:

Lead me, O Zeus, and you, O Destiny,
wherever your decrees have fixed my place.
I follow gladly. If I did not,
wicked and wretched, I would have to follow still.

Whoever yields properly to fate
is considered wise among men, and knows the laws of heaven.

And this third:

O Crito, if it pleases the gods, so let it be.

Anytus and Meletus can kill me, but they cannot harm me.