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opposed to justice; but I see a virtue which is opposed to love of |
pleasure, and that is temperance. |
If thou takest away thy opinion about that which appears to give thee |
pain, thou thyself standest in perfect security.- Who is this self?- |
The reason.- But I am not reason.- Be it so. Let then the reason itself |
not trouble itself. But if any other part of thee suffers, let it |
have its own opinion about itself. |
Hindrance to the perceptions of sense is an evil to the animal nature. |
Hindrance to the movements (desires) is equally an evil to the animal |
nature. And something else also is equally an impediment and an evil |
to the constitution of plants. So then that which is a hindrance to |
the intelligence is an evil to the intelligent nature. Apply all these |
things then to thyself. Does pain or sensuous pleasure affect thee? |
The senses will look to that.- Has any obstacle opposed thee in thy |
efforts towards an object? if indeed thou wast making this effort |
absolutely (unconditionally, or without any reservation), certainly |
this obstacle is an evil to thee considered as a rational animal. |
But if thou takest into consideration the usual course of things, |
thou hast not yet been injured nor even impeded. The things however |
which are proper to the understanding no other man is used to impede, |
for neither fire, nor iron, nor tyrant, nor abuse, touches it in any |
way. When it has been made a sphere, it continues a sphere. |
It is not fit that I should give myself pain, for I have never intentionally |
given pain even to another. |
Different things delight different people. But it is my delight to |
keep the ruling faculty sound without turning away either from any |
man or from any of the things which happen to men, but looking at |
and receiving all with welcome eyes and using everything according |
to its value. |
See that thou secure this present time to thyself: for those who rather |
pursue posthumous fame do consider that the men of after time will |
be exactly such as these whom they cannot bear now; and both are mortal. |
And what is it in any way to thee if these men of after time utter |
this or that sound, or have this or that opinion about thee? |
Take me and cast me where thou wilt; for there I shall keep my divine |
part tranquil, that is, content, if it can feel and act conformably |
to its proper constitution. Is this change of place sufficient reason |
why my soul should be unhappy and worse than it was, depressed, expanded, |
shrinking, affrighted? And what wilt thou find which is sufficient |
reason for this? |
Nothing can happen to any man which is not a human accident, nor to |
an ox which is not according to the nature of an ox, nor to a vine |
which is not according to the nature of a vine, nor to a stone which |
is not proper to a stone. If then there happens to each thing both |
what is usual and natural, why shouldst thou complain? For the common |
nature brings nothing which may not be borne by thee. |
If thou art pained by any external thing, it is not this thing that |
disturbs thee, but thy own judgement about it. And it is in thy power |
to wipe out this judgement now. But if anything in thy own disposition |
gives thee pain, who hinders thee from correcting thy opinion? And |
even if thou art pained because thou art not doing some particular |
thing which seems to thee to be right, why dost thou not rather act |
than complain?- But some insuperable obstacle is in the way?- Do not |
be grieved then, for the cause of its not being done depends not on |
thee.- But it is not worth while to live if this cannot be done.- |
Take thy departure then from life contentedly, just as he dies who |
is in full activity, and well pleased too with the things which are |
obstacles. |
Remember that the ruling faculty is invincible, when self-collected |
it is satisfied with itself, if it does nothing which it does not |
choose to do, even if it resist from mere obstinacy. What then will |
it be when it forms a judgement about anything aided by reason and |
deliberately? Therefore the mind which is free from passions is a |
citadel, for man has nothing more secure to which he can fly for, |
refuge and for the future be inexpugnable. He then who has not seen |
this is an ignorant man; but he who has seen it and does not fly to |
this refuge is unhappy. |
Say nothing more to thyself than what the first appearances report. |
Suppose that it has been reported to thee that a certain person speaks |
ill of thee. This has been reported; but that thou hast been injured, |
that has not been reported. I see that my child is sick. I do see; |
but that he is in danger, I do not see. Thus then always abide by |
the first appearances, and add nothing thyself from within, and then |
nothing happens to thee. Or rather add something, like a man who knows |
everything that happens in the world. |
A cucumber is bitter.- Throw it away.- There are briars in the road.- |
Turn aside from them.- This is enough. Do not add, And why were such |
things made in the world? For thou wilt be ridiculed by a man who |
is acquainted with nature, as thou wouldst be ridiculed by a carpenter |
and shoemaker if thou didst find fault because thou seest in their |
workshop shavings and cuttings from the things which they make. And |
yet they have places into which they can throw these shavings and |
cuttings, and the universal nature has no external space; but the |
wondrous part of her art is that though she has circumscribed herself, |
everything within her which appears to decay and to grow old and to |
be useless she changes into herself, and again makes other new things |
from these very same, so that she requires neither substance from |
without nor wants a place into which she may cast that which decays. |
She is content then with her own space, and her own matter and her |
Subsets and Splits