meditations_processed.csv

book,verse,text
Book 1 ,1,MY GRANDFATHER VERUS  Character and self-control. 
Book 1 ,2,MY FATHER (FROM MY OWN MEMORIES AND HIS  REPUTATION)  Integrity and manliness. 
Book 1 ,3,"MY MOTHER  Her reverence for the divine, her generosity, her inability not  only to do wrong but even to conceive of doing it. And the  simple way she lived—not in the least like the rich. "
Book 1 ,4,"MY GREAT-GRANDFATHER  To avoid the public schools, to hire good private teachers,  and to accept the resulting costs as money well-spent. "
Book 1 ,5,"MY FIRST TEACHER  Not to support this side or that in chariot-racing, this fighter  or that in the games. To put up with discomfort and not make  demands. To do my own work, mind my own business, and  have no time for slanderers. "
Book 1 ,6,"DIOGNETUS  Not to waste time on nonsense. Not to be taken in by  conjurors and hoodoo artists with their talk about  incantations and exorcism and all the rest of it. Not to be  obsessed with quail-fighting or other crazes like that. To hear  unwelcome truths. To practice philosophy, and to study with  Baccheius, and then with Tandasis and Marcianus. To write  dialogues as a student. To choose the Greek lifestyle—the  camp-bed and the cloak. "
Book 1 ,7,"RUSTICUS  The recognition that 1 needed to train and discipline my  character.  Not to be sidetracked by my interest in rhetoric. Not to  write treatises on abstract questions, or deliver moralizing  little sermons, or compose imaginary descriptions of The  Simple Life or The Man Who Lives Only for Others. To steer  clear of oratory, poetry and belles lettres.  Not to dress up just to stroll around the house, or things  like that. To write straightforward letters (like the one he  sent my mother from Sinuessa). And to behave in a  conciliatory way when people who have angered or annoyed  us want to make up.  To read attentively—not to be satisfied with “just getting  the gist of it.” And not to fall for every smooth talker.  And for introducing me to Epictetus’s lectures—and  loaning me his own copy. "
Book 1 ,8,"APOLLONIUS  Independence and unvarying reliability, and to pay attention  to nothing, no matter how fleetingly, except the logos. And to  be the same in all circumstances—intense pain, the loss of a  child, chronic illness. And to see clearly, from his example,  that a man can show both strength and flexibility.  His patience in teaching. And to have seen someone who  clearly viewed his expertise and ability as a teacher as the  humblest of virtues.  And to have learned how to accept favors from friends  without losing your self-respect or appearing ungrateful. "
Book 1 ,9,"SEXTUS  Kindness.  An example of fatherly authority in the home. What it  means to live as nature requires.  Gravity without airs.  To show intuitive sympathy for friends, tolerance to  amateurs and sloppy thinkers. His ability to get along with  everyone: sharing his company was the highest of  compliments, and the opportunity an honor for those around  him  To investigate and analyze, with understanding and logic,  the principles we ought to live by.  Not to display anger or other emotions. To be free of  passion and yet full of love.  To praise without bombast; to display expertise without  pretension. "
Book 1 ,10," THE LITERARY CRITIC ALEXANDER  Not to be constantly correcting people, and in particular not  to jump on them whenever they make an error of usage or a  grammatical mistake or mispronounce something, but just  answer their question or add another example, or debate the  issue itself (not their phrasing), or make some other  contribution to the discussion—and insert the right  expression, unobtrusively. "
Book 1 ,11,"FRONTO  To recognize the malice, cunning, and hypocrisy that power  produces, and the peculiar ruthlessness often shown by  people from “good families.” "
Book 1 ,12," ALEXANDER THE PLATONIST  Not to be constantly telling people (or writing them) that Em  too busy, unless I really am Similarly, not to be always  ducking my responsibilities to the people around me because  of “pressing business.” "
Book 1 ,13," CATULUS  Not to shrug off a friend’s resentment—even unjustified  resentment—but try to put things right.  To show your teachers ungrudging respect (the Domitius  and Athenodotus story), and your children unfeigned love. "
Book 1 ,14," [MY BROTHER] SEVERUS  To love my family, truth and justice. It was through him that I  encountered Thrasea, Helvidius, Cato, Dion and Brutus, and  conceived of a society of equal laws, governed by equality  of status and of speech, and of rulers who respect the liberty  of their subjects above all else.  And from him as well, to be steady and consistent in  valuing philosophy.  And to help others and be eager to share, not to be a  pessimist, and never to doubt your friends’ affection for you.  And that when people incurred his disapproval, they always  knew it. And that his friends never had to speculate about his  attitude to anything: it was always clear. "
Book 1 ,15," MAXIMUSMaximus  Self-control and resistance to distractions.  Optimism in adversity—especially illness.  A personality in balance: dignity and grace together.  Doing your job without whining.  Other people’s certainty that what he said was what he  thought, and what he did was done without malice.  Never taken aback or apprehensive. Neither rash nor  hesitant—or bewildered, or at a loss. Not obsequious  —but not aggressive or paranoid either.  Generosity, charity, honesty.  The sense he gave of staying on the path rather than  being kept on it.  That no one could ever have felt patronized by him—or  in a position to patronize him.  A sense of humor. "
Book 1 ,16," MY ADOPTED FATHER  Compassion. Unwavering adherence to decisions, once he’d  reached them. Indifference to superficial honors. Hard work.  Persistence.  Listening to anyone who could contribute to the public  good.  His dogged determination to treat people as they deserved.  A sense of when to push and when to back off.  Putting a stop to the pursuit of boys.  His altruism. Not expecting his friends to keep him  entertained at dinner or to travel with him (unless they  wanted to). And anyone who had to stay behind to take care  of something always found him the same when he returned.  His searching questions at meetings. A kind of single-  mindedness, almost, never content with first impressions, or  breaking off the discussion prematurely.  His constancy to friends—never getting fed up with them,  or playing favorites.  Self-reliance, always. And cheerfulness.  And his advance planning (well in advance) and his  discreet attention to even minor things.  His restrictions on acclamations—and all attempts to  flatter him  His constant devotion to the empire’s needs. His  stewardship of the treasury. His willingness to take  responsibility—and blame—for both.  His attitude to the gods: no superstitiousness. And his  attitude to men: no demagoguery, no currying favor, no  pandering. Always sober, always steady, and never vulgar or  a prey to fads.  The way he handled the material comforts that fortune had  supplied him in such abundance—without arrogance and  without apology. If they were there, he took advantage of  them If not, he didn’t miss them.  No one ever called him glib, or shameless, or pedantic.  They saw him for what he was: a man tested by life,  accomplished, unswayed by flattery, qualified to govern both  himself and them.  His respect for people who practiced philosophy—at  least, those who were sincere about it. But without  denigrating the others—or listening to them  His ability to feel at ease with people—and put them at  their ease, without being pushy.  His willingness to take adequate care of himself. Not a  hypochondriac or obsessed with his appearance, but not  ignoring things either. With the result that he hardly ever  needed medical attention, or drags or any sort of salve or  ointment.  This, in particular: his willingness to yield the floor to  experts—in oratory, law, psychology, whatever—and to  support them energetically, so that each of them could fulfill  his potential.  That he respected tradition without needing to constantly  congratulate himself for Safeguarding Our Traditional  Values.  Not prone to go off on tangents, or pulled in all directions.  but sticking with the same old places and the same old things.  The way he could have one of his migraines and then go  right back to what he was doing—fresh and at the top of his  game.  That he had so few secrets—only state secrets, in fact, and  not all that many of those.  The way he kept public actions within reasonable bounds  —games, building projects, distributions of money and so on  —because he looked to what needed doing and not the credit  to be gained from doing it.  No bathing at strange hours, no self-indulgent building  projects, no concern for food, or the cut and color of his  clothes, or having attractive slaves. (The robe from his farm  at Lorium, most of the things at Lanuvium, the way he  accepted the customs agent’s apology at Tusculum, etc.)  He never exhibited rudeness, lost control of himself, or  turned violent. No one ever saw him sweat. Everything was  to be approached logically and with due consideration, in a  calm and orderly fashion but decisively, and with no loose  ends.  You could have said of him (as they say of Socrates) that  he knew how to enjoy and abstain from things that most  people find it hard to abstain from and all too easy to enjoy.  Strength, perseverance, self-control in both areas: the mark  of a soul in readiness—indomitable.  (Maximus’s illness.) "
Book 1 ,17," THE GODS  That I had good grandparents, a good mother and father, a  good sister, good teachers, good servants, relatives, friends  —almost without exception. And that 1 never lost control of  myself with any of them, although I had it in me to do that,  and I might have, easily. But thanks to the gods, I was never  put in that position, and so escaped the test.  That I wasn’t raised by my grandfather’s girlfriend for  longer than I was. That I didn’t lose my virginity too early,  and didn’t enter adulthood until it was time—put it off, even.  That I had someone—as a ruler and as a father—who  could keep me from being arrogant and make me realize that  even at court you can live without a troop of bodyguards, and  gorgeous clothes, lamps, sculpture—the whole charade. That  you can behave almost like an ordinary person without  seeming slovenly or careless as a ruler or when carrying out  official obligations.  That I had the kind of brother I did. One whose character  challenged me to improve my own. One whose love and  affection enriched my life.  That my children weren’t born stupid or physically  deformed.  That I wasn’t more talented in rhetoric or poetry, or other  areas. If I’d felt that I was making better progress I might  never have given them up.  That I conferred on the people who brought me up the  honors they seemed to want early on. instead of putting them  off (since they were still young) with the hope that I’d do it  later.  That 1 knew Apollonius, and Rusticus, and Maximus.  That I was shown clearly and often what it would be like  to live as nature requires. The gods did all they could—  through their gifts, their help, their inspiration—to ensure that  I could live as nature demands. And if I’ve failed, it’s no  one’s fault but mine. Because I didn’t pay attention to what  they told me—to what they taught me, practically, step by  step.  That my body has held out, especially considering the life  I’ve led.  That I never laid a finger on Benedicta or on Theodotus.  And that even later, when I was overcome by passion, I  recovered from it.  That even though I was often upset with Rusticus I never  did anything I would have regretted later.  That even though she died young, at least my mother spent  her last years with me.  That whenever I felt like helping someone who was short  of money, or otherwise in need, I never had to be told that I  had no resources to do it with. And that I was never put in  that position myself—of having to take something from  someone else.  That 1 have the wife I do: obedient, loving, humble.  That my children had competent teachers.  Remedies granted through dreams—when I was coughing  blood, for instance, and having fits of dizziness. And the one  at Caieta.  That when I became interested in philosophy I didn’t fall  into the hands of charlatans, and didn’t get bogged down in  writing treatises, or become absorbed by logic-chopping, or  preoccupied with physics.  All things for which “we need the help of fortune and the  gods.” "
Book 2 ,1,"When you wake up in the morning, tell yourself: The  people I deal with today will be meddling, ungrateful,  arrogant, dishonest, jealous, and surly. They are like this  because they can’t tell good from evil. But I have seen the  beauty of good, and the ugliness of evil, and have recognized  that the wrongdoer has a nature related to my own—not of  the same blood or birth, but the same mind, and possessing a  share of the divine. And so none of them can hurt me. No one  can implicate me in ugliness. Nor can 1 feel angry at my  relative, or hate him We were born to work together like  feet, hands, and eyes, like the two rows of teeth, upper and  lower. To obstruct each other is unnatural. To feel anger at  someone, to turn your back on him: these are obstructions. "
Book 2 ,2,"Whatever this is that 1 am, it is flesh and a little spirit and  an intelligence. Throw away your books; stop letting yourself  be distracted. That is not allowed. Instead, as if you were  dying right now, despise your flesh. A mess of blood, pieces  of bone, a woven tangle of nerves, veins, arteries. Consider  what the spirit is: air, and never the same air, but vomited out  and gulped in again every instant. Finally, the intelligence.  Think of it this way: You are an old man. Stop allowing your  mind to be a slave, to be jerked about by selfish impulses, to  kick against fate and the present, and to mistrust the future. "
Book 2 ,3,"What is divine is full of Providence. Even chance is not  divorced from nature, from the inweaving and enfolding of  things governed by Providence. Everything proceeds from it.  And then there is necessity and the needs of the whole world,  of which you are a part. Whatever the nature of the whole  does, and whatever serves to maintain it, is good for every  part of nature. The world is maintained by change—in the  elements and in the things they compose. That should be  enough for you; treat it as an axiom. Discard your thirst for  books, so that you won’t die in bitterness, but in cheerfulness  and truth, grateful to the gods from the bottom of your heart. "
Book 2 ,4,"Remember how long you’ve been putting this off, how  many extensions the gods gave you, and you didn’t use them.  At some point you have to recognize what world it is that you  belong to; what power rules it and from what source you  spring; that there is a limit to the time assigned you, and if  you don’t use it to free yourself it will be gone and will  never return. "
Book 2 ,5,"Concentrate every minute like a Roman—like a man—on  doing what’s in front of you with precise and genuine  seriousness, tenderly, willingly, with justice. And on freeing  yourself from all other distractions. Yes, you can—if you do  everything as if it were the last thing you were doing in your  life, and stop being aimless, stop letting your emotions  override what your mind tells you, stop being hypocritical,  self-centered, irritable. You see how few things you have to  do to live a satisfying and reverent life? If you can manage  this, that’s all even the gods can ask of you. "
Book 2 ,6,"Yes, keep on degrading yourself, soul. But soon your  chance at dignify will be gone. Everyone gets one life. Yours  is almost used up, and instead of treating yourself with  respect, you have entrusted your own happiness to the souls  of others. "
Book 2 ,7,Do external things distract you? Then make time for  yourself to learn something worthwhile; stop letting yourself  be pulled in all directions. But make sure you guard against  the other kind of confusion. People who labor all their lives  but have no purpose to direct every thought and impulse  toward are wasting their time—even when hard at work. 
Book 2 ,8,"Ignoring what goes on in other people’s souls—no one  ever came to grief that way. But if you won’t keep track of  what your own soul’s doing, how can you not be unhappy? "
Book 2 ,9,"Don’t ever forget these things:  The nature of the world.  My nature.  How I relate to the world.  What proportion of it I make up.  That you are part of nature, and no one can prevent you  from speaking and acting in harmony with it, always. "
Book 2 ,10," In comparing sins (the way people do) Theophrastus says  that the ones committed out of desire are worse than the ones  committed out of anger: which is good philosophy. The angry  man seems to turn his back on reason out of a kind of pain  and inner convulsion. But the man motivated by desire, who  is mastered by pleasure, seems somehow more self-  indulgent, less manly in his sins. Theophrastus is right, and  philosophically sound, to say that the sin committed out of  pleasure deserves a harsher rebuke than the one committed  out of pain. The angry man is more like a victim of  wrongdoing, provoked by pain to anger. The other man  rushes into wrongdoing on his owa moved to action by  desire. "
Book 2 ,11," You could leave life right now. Let that determine what  you do and say and think. If the gods exist, then to abandon  human beings is not frightening; the gods would never subject  you to harm. And if they don’t exist, or don’t care what  happens to us, what would be the point of living in a world  without gods or Providence? But they do exist, they do care  what happens to us, and everything a person needs to avoid  real harm they have placed within him If there were anything  harmful on the other side of death, they would have made  sure that the ability to avoid it was within you. If it doesn’t  harm your character, how can it harm your life? Nature  would not have overlooked such dangers through failing to  recognize them, or because it saw them but was powerless to  prevent or correct them Nor would it ever, through inability  or incompetence, make such a mistake as to let good and bad  things happen indiscriminately to good and bad alike. But  death and life, success and failure, pain and pleasure, wealth  and poverty, all these happen to good and bad alike, and they  are neither noble nor shameful—and hence neither good nor  bad. "
Book 2 ,12," The speed with which all of them vanish—the objects in  the world, and the memory of them in time. And the real  nature of the things our senses experience, especially those  that entice us with pleasure or frighten us with pain or are  loudly trumpeted by pride. To understand those things—how  stupid, contemptible, grimy, decaying, and dead they are—  that’s what our intellectual powers are for. And to  understand what those people really amount to, whose  opinions and voices constitute fame. And what dying is—and  that if you look at it in the abstract and break down your  imaginary ideas of it by logical analysis, you realize that it’s  nothing but a process of nature, which only children can be  afraid of. (And not only a process of nature but a necessary  one.) And how man grasps God, with what part of himself he  does so, and how that part is conditioned when he does. "
Book 2 ,13," Nothing is more pathetic than people who run around in  circles, “delving into the things that lie beneath” and  conducting investigations into the souls of the people around  them, never realizing that all you have to do is to be attentive  to the power inside you and worship it sincerely. To worship  it is to keep it from being muddied with turmoil and  becoming aimless and dissatisfied with nature—divine and  human. What is divine deserves our respect because it is  good; what is human deserves our affection because it is like  us. And our pity too, sometimes, for its inability to tell good  from bad—as terrible a blindness as the kind that can’t tell  white from black. "
Book 2 ,14," Even if you’re going to live three thousand more years, or  ten times that, remember: you cannot lose another life than  the one you’re living now, or live another one than the one  you’re losing. The longest amounts to the same as the  shortest. The present is the same for everyone; its loss is the  same for everyone; and it should be clear that a brief instant  is all that is lost. For you can’t lose either the past or the  future; how could you lose what you don’t have?  Remember two things:  i. that everything has always been the same, and keeps  recurring, and it makes no difference whether you see  the same things recur in a hundred years or two hundred,  or in an infinite period;  ii. that the longest-lived and those who will die soonest  lose the same thing. The present is all that they can give  up, since that is all you have, and what you do not have,  you cannot lose. "
Book 2 ,15," “Everything is just an impression.” —Monimus the  Cynic. And the response is obvious enough- But the point is a  useful one, if you take it for what it’s worth. "
Book 2 ,16," The human soul degrades itself:  i. Above all, when it does its best to become an  abscess, a kind of detached growth on the world. To be  disgruntled at anything that happens is a kind of  secession from Nature, which comprises the nature of  all things.  ii. When it turns its back on another person or sets out to  do it harm, as the souls of the angry do.  iii. When it is overpowered by pleasure or pain.  iv. When it puts on a mask and does or says something  artificial or false.  v. When it allows its action and impulse to be without a  purpose, to be random and disconnected: even the  smallest things ought to be directed toward a goal. But  the goal of rational beings is to follow the rule and law  of the most ancient of communities and states. "
Book 2 ,17," Human life.  Duration: momentary. Nature: changeable. Perception:  dim. Condition of Body: decaying. Soul: spinning around.  Fortune: unpredictable. Lasting Fame: uncertain. Sum Up:  The body and its parts are a river, the soul a dream and  mist, life is warfare and a journey far from home, lasting  reputation is oblivion.  Then what can guide us?  Only philosophy.  Which means making sure that the power within stays safe  and free from assault, superior to pleasure and pain, doing  nothing randomly or dishonestly and with imposture, not  dependent on anyone else’s doing something or not doing it.  And making sure that it accepts what happens and what it is  dealt as coming from the same place it came from And  above all, that it accepts death in a cheerful spirit, as nothing  but the dissolution of the elements from which each living  thing is composed. If it doesn’t hurt the individual elements  to change continually into one another, why are people afraid  of all of them changing and separating? It’s a natural thing.  And nothing natural is evil. "
Book 3 ,1,"Not just that every day more of our life is used up and less  and less of it is left, but this too: if we live longer, can we be  sure our mind will still be up to understanding the world—to  the contemplation that aims at divine and human knowledge?  If our mind starts to wander, we’ll still go on breathing, go  on eating, imagining things, feeling urges and so on. But  getting the most out of ourselves, calculating where our duty  lies, analyzing what we hear and see, deciding whether it’s  time to call it quits—all the things you need a healthy mind  for . .. all those are gone.  So we need to hurry.  Not just because we move daily closer to death but also  because our understanding—our grasp of the world—may be  gone before we get there. "
Book 3 ,2,"We should remember that even Nature’s inadvertence has  its own charm, its own attractiveness. The way loaves of  bread split open on top in the oven; the ridges are just by-  products of the baking, and yet pleasing, somehow: they  rouse our appetite without our knowing why.  Or how ripe figs begin to burst.  And olives on the point of falling: the shadow of decay  gives them a peculiar beauty.  Stalks of wheat bending under their own weight. The  furrowed brow of the lion. Flecks of foam on the boar’s  mouth.  And other things. If you look at them in isolation there’s  nothing beautiful about them, and yet by supplementing nature  they enrich it and draw us in. And anyone with a feeling for  nature—a deeper sensitivity—will find it all gives pleasure.  Even what seems inadvertent. He’ll find the jaws of live  animals as beautiful as painted ones or sculptures. He’ll look  calmly at the distinct beauty of old age in men, women, and at  the loveliness of children. And other things like that will call  out to him constantly—things unnoticed by others. Things  seen only by those at home with Nature and its works. "
Book 3 ,3,"Hippocrates cured many illnesses—and then fell ill and  died. The Chaldaeans predicted the deaths of many others; in  due course their own hour arrived. Alexander, Pompey,  Caesar—who utterly destroyed so many cities, cut down so  many thousand foot and horse in battle—they too departed  this life. Heraclitus often told us the world would end in fire.  But it was moisture that carried him off; he died smeared  with cowshit. Democritus was killed by ordinary vermin,  Socrates by the human kind.  And?  You boarded, you set sail, you’ve made the passage. Time  to disembark. If it’s for another life, well, there’s nowhere  without gods on that side either. If to nothingness, then you no  longer have to put up with pain and pleasure, or go on  dancing attendance on this battered crate, your body—so  much inferior to that which serves it.  One is mind and spirit, the other earth and garbage. "
Book 3 ,4,"Don’t waste the rest of your time here worrying about  other people—unless it affects the common good. It will  keep you from doing anything useful. You’ll be too  preoccupied with what so-and-so is doing, and why, and  what they’re saying, and what they’re thinking, and what  they’re up to, and all the other things that throw you off and  keep you from focusing on your own mind.  You need to avoid certain things in your train of thought:  everything random, everything irrelevant. And certainly  everything self-important or malicious. You need to get used  to winnowing your thoughts, so that if someone says, “What  are you thinking about?” you can respond at once (and  truthfully) that you are thinking this or thinking that. And it  would be obvious at once from your answer that your  thoughts were straightforward and considerate ones—the  thoughts of an unselfish person, one unconcerned with  pleasure and with sensual indulgence generally, with  squabbling, with slander and envy, or anything else you’d be  ashamed to be caught thinking.  Someone like that—someone who refuses to put off  joining the elect—is a kind of priest, a servant of the gods, in  touch with what is within him and what keeps a person  undefiled by pleasures, invulnerable to any pain, untouched  by arrogance, unaffected by meanness, an athlete in the  greatest of all contests—the struggle not to be overwhelmed  by anything that happens. With what leaves us dyed indelibly  by justice, welcoming wholeheartedly whatever comes—  whatever we’re assigned—not worrying too oflea or with  any selfish motive, about what other people say. Or do, or  think.  He does only what is his to do, and considers constantly  what the world has in store for him—doing his best, and  trusting that all is for the best. For we carry our fate with us  —and it carries us.  He keeps in mind that all rational things are related, and  that to care for all human beings is part of being human.  Which doesn’t mean we have to share their opinions. We  should listen only to those whose lives conform to nature.  And the others? He bears in mind what sort of people they  are—both at home and abroad, by night as well as day—and  who they spend their time with. And he cares nothing for  their praise—men who can’t even meet their own standards. "
Book 3 ,5,"How to act:  Never under compulsioa out of selfishness, without  forethought, with misgivings.  Don’t gussy up your thoughts.  No surplus words or unnecessary actions.  Let the spirit in you represent a man, an adult, a citizen,  a Roman, a ruler. Taking up his post like a soldier  and patiently awaiting his recall from life. Needing  no oath or witness.  Cheerfulness. Without requiring other people’s help. Or  serenity supplied by others.  To stand up straight—not straightened. "
Book 3 ,6,"If, at some point in your life, you should come across  anything better than justice, honesty, self-control, courage—  than a mind satisfied that it has succeeded in enabling you to  act rationally, and satisfied to accept what’s beyond its  control—if you find anything better than that, embrace it  without reservations—it must be an extraordinary thing  indeed—and enjoy it to the full.  But if nothing presents itself that’s superior to the spirit  that lives within—the one that has subordinated individual  desires to itself, that discriminates among impressions, that  has broken free of physical temptations (as Socrates used to  say), and subordinated itself to the gods, and looks out for  human beings’ welfare—if you find that there’s nothing more  important or valuable than that. . .  . . . then don’t make room for anything but it—for anything  that might lead you astray, tempt you off the road, and leave  you unable to devote yourself completely to achieving the  goodness that is uniquely yours. It would be wrong for  anything to stand between you and attaining goodness—as a  rational being and a citizen. Anything at all: the applause of  the crowd, high office, wealth, or self-indulgence. All of  them might seem to be compatible with it—for a while. But  suddenly they control us and sweep us away.  So make your choice straightforwardly, once and for all,  and stick to it. Choose what’s best.  —Best is what benefits me.  As a rational being? Then follow through- Or just as an  animal? Then say so and stand your ground without making a  show of it. (Just make sure you’ve done your homework  first.) "
Book 3 ,7,"Never regard something as doing you good if it makes you  betray a trust, or lose your sense of shame, or makes you  show hatred, suspicion, ill will, or hypocrisy, or a desire for  things best done behind closed doors. If you can privilege  your own mind, your guiding spirit and your reverence for its  powers, that should keep you clear of dramatics, of wailing  and gnashing of teeth. You won’t need solitude—or a cast of  thousands, either. Above all, you’ll be free of fear and  desire. And how long your body will contain the soul that  inhabits it will cause you not a moment’s worry. If it’s time  for you to go, leave willingly—as you would to accomplish  anything that can be done with grace and honor. And  concentrate on this, your whole life long: for your mind to be  in the right state—the state a rational, civic mind should be  in. "
Book 3 ,8,"The mind of one set straight and purified: no pus, no dirt,  no scabs.  And not a life cut short by death, like an actor who stops  before the play is done, the plot wound up.  Neither servility nor arrogance. Neither cringing nor  disdain. Neither excuses nor evasions. "
Book 3 ,9,"Your ability to control your thoughts—treat it with respect.  It’s all that protects your mind from false perceptions—false  to your nature, and that of all rational beings. It’s what makes  thoughtfulness possible, and affection for other people, and  submission to the divine. "
Book 3 ,10," Forget everything else. Keep hold of this alone and  remember it: Each of us lives only now, this brief instant.  The rest has been lived already, or is impossible to see. The  span we live is small—small as the corner of the earth in  which we live it. Small as even the greatest renown, passed  from mouth to mouth by short-lived stick figures, ignorant  alike of themselves and those long dead. "
Book 3 ,11," To the stand-bys above, add this one: always to define  whatever it is we perceive—to trace its outline—so we can  see what it really is: its substance. Stripped bare. As a  whole. Unmodified. And to call it by its name—the thing  itself and its components, to which it will eventually return.  Nothing is so conducive to spiritual growth as this capacity  for logical and accurate analysis of everything that happens  to us. To look at it in such a way that we understand what  need it fulfills, and in what kind of world. And its value to  that world as a whole and to man in particular—as a citizen  of that higher city, of which all other cities are mere  households.  What is it—this thing that now forces itself on my notice?  What is it made up of? How long was it designed to last?  And what qualities do I need to bring to bear on it—  tranquillity, courage, honesty, trustworthiness,  straightforwardness, independence or what?  So in each case you need to say: “This is due to God.” Or:  “This is due to the interweavings and intertwinings of fate, to  coincidence or chance.” Or: “This is due to a human being.  Someone of the same race, the same birth, the same society,  but who doesn’t know what nature requires of him. But I do.  And so I’ll treat them as the law that binds us—the law of  nature—requires. With kindness and with justice.  And in inconsequential things? I’ll do my best to treat them  as they deserve.” "
Book 3 ,12," If you do the job in a principled way, with diligence,  energy and patience, if you keep yourself free of distractions,  and keep the spirit inside you undamaged, as if you might  have to give it back at any moment—  If you can embrace this without fear or expectation—can  find fulfillment in what you’re doing now, as Nature  intended, and in superhuman truthfulness (every word, every  utterance)—then your life will be happy.  No one can prevent that. "
Book 3 ,13," Doctors keep their scalpels and other instruments handy,  for emergencies. Keep your philosophy ready too—ready to  understand heaven and earth. In everything you do, even the  smallest thing, remember the chain that links them. Nothing  earthly succeeds by ignoring heaven, nothing heavenly by  ignoring the earth. "
Book 3 ,14," Stop drifting. You’re not going to re-read your Brief  Comments, your Deeds of the Ancient Greeks and Romans,  the commonplace books you saved for your old age. Sprint  for the finish. Write off your hopes, and if your well-being  matters to you, be your own savior while you can. "
Book 3 ,15," They don’t realize how much is included in stealing,  sowing, buying, resting, seeing to business (not with the  eyes, but another kind of sight). "
Book 3 ,16," Body. Soul. Mind.  Sensations: the body.  Desires: the soul.  Reasoning: the mind.  To experience sensations: even grazing beasts do that. To  let your desires control you: even wild animals do that—and  rutting humans, and tyrants (fromPhalaris to Nero . . .).  To make vour mind your guide to what seems best: even  people who deny the gods do that. Even people who betray  their country. Even people who do <. . .> behind closed  doors.  If all the rest is common coin, then what is unique to the  good man?  To welcome with affection what is sent by fate. Not to  stain or disturb the spirit within him with a mess of false  beliefs. Instead, to preserve it faithfully, by calmly obeying  God—saying nothing untrue, doing nothing unjust. And if the  others don’t acknowledge it—this life lived with simplicity,  humility, cheerfulness—he doesn’t resent them for it, and  isn’t deterred from following the road where it leads: to the  end of life. An end to be approached in purity, in serenity, in  acceptance, in peaceful unity with what must be. "
Book 4 ,1,"Our inward power, when it obeys nature, reacts to events  by accommodating itself to what it faces—to what is  possible. It needs no specific material. It pursues its own  aims as circumstances allow; it turns obstacles into fuel. As  a fire overwhelms what would have quenched a lamp.  What’s thrown on top of the conflagration is absorbed,  consumed by it—and makes it burn still higher. "
Book 4 ,2,"No random actions, none not based on underlying  principles. "
Book 4 ,3,"People try to get away from it all—to the country, to the  beach, to the mountains. You always wish that you could too.  Which is idiotic: you can get away from it anytime you like.  By going within.  Nowhere you can go is more peaceful—more free of  interruptions—than your own soul. Especially if you have  other things to rely on. An instant’s recollection and there it  is: complete tranquillity. And by tranquillity I mean a kind of  harmony.  So keep getting away from it all—like that. Renew  yourself. But keep it brief and basic. A quick visit should be  enough to ward off all < ... > and send you back ready to  face what awaits you.  What’s there to complain about? People’s misbehavior?  But take into consideration:  • that rational beings exist for one another;  • that doing what’s right sometimes requires patience;  • that no one does the wrong thing deliberately;  • and the number of people who have feuded and envied  and hated and fought and died and been buried.  . . . and keep your mouth shut.  Or are you complaining about the things the world assigns  you? But consider the two options: Providence or atoms.  And all the arguments for seeing the world as a city.  Or is it your body? Keep in mind that when the mind  detaches itself and realizes its own nature, it no longer has  anything to do with ordinary life—the rough and the smooth,  either one. And remember all you’ve been taught—and  accepted—about pain and pleasure.  Or is it your reputation that’s bothering you? But look at  how soon we’re all forgotten. The abyss of endless time that  swallows it all. The emptiness of all those applauding hands.  The people who praise us—how capricious they are, how  arbitrary. And the tiny region in which it all takes place. The  whole earth a point in space—and most of it uninhabited.  How many people there will be to admire you, and who they  are.  So keep this refuge in mind: the back roads of your self.  Above all, no strain and no stress. Be straightforward. Look  at things like a man, like a human being, like a citizen, like a  mortal. And among the things you turn to, these two:  i. That things have no hold on the soul. They stand there  unmoving, outside it. Disturbance comes only from  within—from our own perceptions.  ii. That everything you see will soon alter and cease to  exist. Think of how many changes you’ve already seen.  “The world is nothing but change. Our life is only  perception.” "
Book 4 ,4,"If thought is something we share, then so is reason—what  makes us reasoning beings.  If so, then the reason that tells us what to do and what not  to do is also shared.  And if so, we share a common law.  And thus, are fellow citizens.  And fellow citizens of something.  And in that case, our state must be the world. What other  entity could all of humanity belong to? And from it—from  this state that we share—come thought and reason and law.  Where else could they come from? The earth that  composes me derives from earth, the water from some other  element, the air from its own source, the heat and fire from  theirs—since nothing comes from nothing, or returns to it.  So thought must derive from somewhere else as well. "
Book 4 ,5,"Death: something like birth, a natural mystery, elements  that split and recombine.  Not an embarrassing thing. Not an offense to reason, or our  nature. "
Book 4 ,6,"That sort of person is bound to do that. You might as well  resent a fig tree for secreting juice. (Anyway, before very  long you’ll both be dead—dead and soon forgotten.) "
Book 4 ,7,Choose not to be harmed—and you won’t feel harmed.  Don’t feel harmed—and you haven’t been. 
Book 4 ,8,It can ruin your life only if it ruins your character.  Otherwise it cannot harm you—inside or out. 
Book 4 ,9,It was for the best. So Nature had no choice but to do it. 
Book 4 ,10," That every event is the right one. Look closely and you’ll  see.  Not just the right one overall, but right. As if someone had  weighed it out with scales.  Keep looking closely like that, and embody it in your  actions: goodness—what defines a good person.  Keep to it in everything you do. "
Book 4 ,11," Not what your enemy sees and hopes that you will, but  what’s really there. "
Book 4 ,12," Two kinds of readiness are constantly needed: (i) to do  only what the logos of authority and law directs, with the  good of human beings in mind; (ii) to reconsider your  position, when someone can set you straight or convert you to  his. But your conversion should always rest on a conviction  that it’s right, or benefits others—nothing else. Not because  it’s more appealing or more popular. "
Book 4 ,13," You have a mind?  —Yes.  Well, why not use it? Isn’t that all you want—for it to do  its job? "
Book 4 ,14," You have functioned as a part of something; you will  vanish into what produced you.  Or be restored, rather.  To the logos from which all things spring.  By being changed. "
Book 4 ,15," Many lumps of incense on the same altar. One crumbles  now, one later, but it makes no difference. "
Book 4 ,16," Now they see you as a beast, a monkey. But in a week  they’ll think you’re a god—if you rediscover your beliefs  and honor the logos. "
Book 4 ,17, Not to live as if you had endless years ahead of you.  Death overshadows you. While you’re alive and able—be  good. 
Book 4 ,18," The tranquillity that comes when you stop caring what  they say. Or think, or do. Only what you do. (Is this fair? Is  this the right thing to do?)  < ... > not to be distracted by their darkness. To run  straight for the finish line, unswerving. "
Book 4 ,19," People who are excited by posthumous fame forget that  the people who remember them will soon die too. And those  after them in turn. Until their memory, passed from one to  another like a candle flame, gutters and goes out.  But suppose that those who remembered you were  immortal and your memory undying. What good would it do  you? And I don’t just mean when you’re dead, but in your  own lifetime. What use is praise, except to make your  lifestyle a little more comfortable?  “ You’re out of step—neglecting the gifts of nature to hand  on someone’s words in the future. “ "
Book 4 ,20," Beautiful things of any kind are beautiful in themselves  and sufficient to themselves. Praise is extraneous. The object  of praise remains what it was—no better and no worse. This  applies, 1 think, even to “beautiful” things in ordinary life—  physical objects, artworks.  Does anything genuinely beautiful need supplementing? No  more than justice does—or truth, or kindness, or humility.  Are any of those improved by being praised? Or damaged by  contempt? Is an emerald suddenly flawed if no one admires  it? Or gold, or ivory, or purple? Lyres? Knives? Flowers?  Bushes? "
Book 4 ,21," If our souls survive, how does the air find room for them  —all of them—since the beginning of time?  How does the earth find room for all the bodies buried in  it since the beginning of time? They linger for whatever  length of time, and thea through change and decomposition,  make room for others. So too with the souls that inhabit the  air. They linger a little, and then are changed—diffused and  kindled into fire, absorbed into the logos from which all  things spring, and so make room for new arrivals.  One possible answer.  But we shouldn’t think only of the mass of buried bodies.  There are the ones consumed, on a daily basis, by us and by  other animals. How many are swallowed up like that.  entombed in the bodies of those nourished by them, and yet  there is room for them all—converted into flesh and blood,  transformed to air and fire.  How is the truth of this determined?  Through analysis: material and cause. "
Book 4 ,22," Not to be driven this way and that, but always to behave  with justice and see things as they are. "
Book 4 ,23," To the world: Your harmony is mine. Whatever time you  choose is the right time. Not late, not early.  To nature: What the turn of your seasons brings me falls  like ripe fruit. All things are born from you, exist in you,  return to you.  The poet says “dear city of Cecrops . . .” Can’t you bring  yourself to say “of Zeus”? "
Book 4 ,24," “If you seek tranquillity, do less.” Or (more accurately)  do what’s essential—what the logos of a social being  requires, and in the requisite way. Which brings a double  satisfaction: to do less, better.  Because most of what we say and do is not essential. If  you can eliminate it, you’ll have more time, and more  tranquillity. Ask yourself at every moment, “Is this  necessary?”  But we need to eliminate unnecessary assumptions as  well. To eliminate the unnecessary actions that follow. "
Book 4 ,25," And then you might see what the life of the good man is  like—someone content with what nature assigns him, and  satisfied with being just and kind himself. "
Book 4 ,26," You’ve seen that. Now look at this.  Don’t be disturbed. Uncomplicate yourself.  Someone has done wrong ... to himself.  Something happens to you. Good. It was meant for you by  nature, woven into the pattern from the beginning.  Life is short. That’s all there is to say. Get what you can  from the present—thoughtfully, justly.  Unrestrained moderation. "
Book 4 ,27," An ordered world or a mishmash. But still an order. Can  there be order within you and not in everything else? In  things so different, so dispersed, so intertwined? "
Book 4 ,28," Character: dark, womanish, obstinate. Wolf, sheep, child,  fool, cheat, buffoon, salesman, tyrant. "
Book 4 ,29," Alien: (n.) one who doesn’t know what the world  contains. Or how it operates.  Fugitive: (n.) one who evades his obligations to others.  Blind: (adj.) one who keeps the eyes of his mind shut tight.  Poor: (adj.) requiring others; not having the necessities of  life in one’s own possession.  Rebel: (n.) one who is rebellious, one who withdraws  from the logos of Nature because he resents its workings. (It  produced you; now it produces this.)  Schismatic: (n.) one who separates his own soul from  others with the logos. They should be one. "
Book 4 ,30," A philosopher without clothes and one without books. “I  have nothing to eat,” says he, as he stands there half-naked,  ‘‘but I subsist on the logos.” And with nothing to read, I  subsist on it too. "
Book 4 ,31," Love the discipline you know, and let it support you.  Entrust everything willingly to the gods, and then make your  way through life—no one’s master and no one’s slave. "
Book 4 ,32," The age of Vespasian, for example. People doing the  exact same things: marrying, raising children, getting sick,  dying, waging war, throwing parties, doing business,  fanning, flattering, boasting, distrusting, plotting, hoping  others will die, complaining about their own lives, falling in  love, putting away money, seeking high office and power.  And that life they led is nowhere to be found.  Or the age of Trajan. The exact same things. And that life  too—gone.  Survey the records of other eras. And see how many others  gave their all and soon died and decomposed into the  elements that formed them.  But most of all, run through the list of those you knew  yourself. Those who worked in vain, who failed to do what  they should have—what they should have remained fixed on  and found satisfaction in.  A key point to bear in mind: The value of attentiveness  varies in proportion to its object. You’re better off not giving  the small things more time than they deserve. "
Book 4 ,33," Words once in common use now sound archaic. And the  names of the famous dead as well: Camillus, Caeso, Volesns,  Dentatus . . . Scipio and Cato . . . Augustus . . . Hadrian and  Antoninus, and . . .  Everything fades so quickly, turns into legend, and soon  oblivion covers it.  And those are the ones who shone. The rest—“unknown,  unasked-for” a minute after death. What is “eternal’’ fame?  Emptiness.  Then what should we work for?  Only this: proper understanding; unselfish action; truthful  speech. A resolve to accept whatever happens as necessary  and familiar, flowing like water from that same source and  spring. "
Book 4 ,34," Hand yourself over to Clotho voluntarily, and let her spin  you into whatever she pleases. "
Book 4 ,35, Everything transitory—the knower and the known. 
Book 4 ,36, Constant awareness that everything is born from change.  The knowledge that there is nothing nature loves more than to  alter what exists and make new things like it. All that exists  is the seed of what will emerge from it. You think the only  seeds are the ones that make plants or children? Go deeper. 
Book 4 ,37," On the verge of dying and still weighed down, still  turbulent, still convinced external things can harm you, still  rude to other people, still not acknowledging the truth: that  wisdom is justice. "
Book 4 ,38," Look into their minds, at what the wise do and what they  don’t. "
Book 4 ,39," Nothing that goes on in anyone else’s mind can harm you.  Nor can the shifts and changes in the world around you.  —Then where is harm to be found?  In your capacity to see it. Stop doing that and everything  will be fine. Let the part of you that makes that judgment keep  quiet even if the body it’s attached to is stabbed or burnt, or  stinking with pus, or consumed by cancer. Or to put it another  way: It needs to realize that what happens to everyone—bad  and good alike—is neither good nor bad. That what happens  in every life—lived naturally or not—is neither natural nor  unnatural. "
Book 4 ,40," The world as a living being—one nature, one soul. Keep  that in mind. And how everything feeds into that single  experience, moves with a single motion. And how everything  helps produce everything else. Spun and woven together. "
Book 4 ,41, “A little wisp of soul carrying a corpse.”—Epictetus. 
Book 4 ,42, There is nothing bad in undergoing change—or good in  emerging from it. 
Book 4 ,43," Time is a river, a violent current of events, glimpsed  once and already carried past us, and another follows and is  gone. "
Book 4 ,44," Everything that happens is as simple and familiar as the  rose in spring, the fruit in simmer: disease, death,  blasphemy, conspiracy . . . everything that makes stupid  people happy or angry. "
Book 4 ,45," What follows coheres with what went before. Not like a  random catalogue whose order is imposed upon it arbitrarily,  but logically connected. And just as what exists is ordered  and harmonious, what comes into being betrays an order too.  Not a mere sequence, but an astonishing concordance. "
Book 4 ,46," Remember Heraclitus: “When earth dies, it becomes  water; water, air; air, fire; and back to the beginning.”  “Those who have forgotten where the road leads.”  “They are at odds with what is all around them”—the all¬  directing logos. And “they find alien what they meet with  every day.”  “Our words and actions should not be like those of  sleepers” (for we act and speak in dreams as well) “or of  children copying their parents”—doing and saying only what  we have been told. "
Book 4 ,47, Suppose that a god announced that you were going to die  tomorrow “or the day after.” Unless you were a complete  coward you wouldn’t kick up a fuss about which day it was  —what difference could it make? Now recognize that the  difference between years from now and tomorrow is just as  small. 
Book 4 ,48," Don’t let yourself forget how many doctors have died,  after furrowing their brows over how many deathbeds. How  many astrologers, after pompous forecasts about others’  ends. How many philosophers, after endless disquisitions on  death and immortality. How many warriors, after inflicting  thousands of casualties themselves. How many tyrants, after  abusing the power of life and death atrociously, as if they  were themselves immortal.  How many whole cities have met their end: Helike,  Pompeii, Herculaneum, and countless others.  And all the ones you know yourself, one after another. One  who laid out another for burial, and was buried himself, and  then the man who buried him—all in the same short space of  time.  In short, know this: Human lives are brief and trivial.  Yesterday a blob of semen; tomorrow embalming fluid, ash.  To pass through this brief life as nature demands. To give  it upwithout complaint.  Like an olive that ripens and falls.  Praising its mother, thanking the tree it grew on. "
Book 4 ,49, To be like the rock that the waves keep crashing over. It  stands unmoved and the raging of the sea falls still around it. 
Book 4 ,49a,". —It’s unfortunate that this has happened.  No. It’s fortunate that this has happened and I’ve remained  unharmed by it—not shattered by the present or frightened of  the future. It could have happened to anyone. But not  everyone could have remained unharmed by it. Why treat the  one as a misfortune rather than the other as fortunate? Can  you really call something a misfortune that doesn’t violate  human nature? Or do you think something that’s not against  nature’s will can violate it? But you know what its will is.  Does what’s happened keep you from acting with justice,  generosity, self-control, sanity, prudence, honesty, humility,  straightforwardness, and all the other qualities that allow a  person’s nature to fulfill itself?  So remember this principle when something threatens to  cause you pain: the thing itself was no misfortune at all; to  endure it and prevail is great good fortune. "
Book 4 ,50," A trite but effective tactic against the fear of death: think  of the list of people who had to be pried away from life.  What did they gain by dying old? In the end, they all sleep six  feet under—Caedicianus, Fabius, Julian, Lepidus, and all the  rest. They buried their contemporaries, and were buried in  turn.  Our lifetime is so brief. And to live it out in these  circumstances, among these people, in this body? Nothing to  get excited about. Consider the abyss of time past, the infinite  future. Three days of life or three generations: what’s the  difference? "
Book 4 ,51," Take the shortest route, the one that nature planned—to  speak and act in the healthiest way. Do that, and be free of  pain and stress, free of all calculation and pretension. "
Book 5 ,1,"At dawn, when you have trouble getting out of bed, tell  yourself: “1 have to go to work—as a human being. What do I  have to complain of, if I’m going to do what I was born for—  the things I was brought into the world to do? Or is this what  I was created for? To huddle under the blankets and stay  warm?  —But it’s nicer here. .. .  So you were born to feel “nice”? Instead of doing things  and experiencing them? Don’t you see the plants, the birds,  the ants and spiders and bees going about their individual  tasks, putting the world in order, as best they can? And  you’re not willing to do your job as a human being? Why  aren’t you running to do what your nature demands?  —But we have to sleep sometime. . . .  Agreed. But nature set a limit on that—as it did on eating  and drinking. And you’re over the limit. You’ve had more  than enough of that. But not of working. There you’re still  below your quota.  You don’t love yourself enough. Or you’d love your nature  too, and what it demands of you. People who love what they  do wear themselves down doing it, they even forget to wash  or eat. Do you have less respect for your own nature than the  engraver does for engraving, the dancer for the dance, the  miser for money or the social climber for status? When  they’re really possessed by what they do, they’d rather stop  eating and sleeping than give up practicing their arts.  Is helping others less valuable to you? Not worth your  effort? "
Book 5 ,2,To shrug it all off and wipe it clean—every annoyance and  distraction—and reach utter stillness.  Child’s play. 
Book 5 ,3,"If an action or utterance is appropriate, then it’s  appropriate for you. Don’t be put off by other people’s  comments and criticism. If it’s right to say or do it, then it’s  the right thing for you to do or say.  The others obey their own lead, follow their own  impulses. Don’t be distracted. Keep walking. Follow your  own nature, and follow Nature—along the road they share. "
Book 5 ,4,"I walk through what is natural, until the time comes to sink  down and rest. To entrust my last breath to the source of my  daily breathing, fall on the source of my father’s seed, of my  mother’s blood, of my nurse’s milk. Of my daily food and  drink through all these years. What sustains my footsteps, and  the use I make of it—the many uses. "
Book 5 ,5,"No one could ever accuse you of being quick-witted.  All right, but there are plenty of other things you can’t  claim you “haven’t got in you.” Practice the virtues you can  show: honesty, gravity, endurance, austerity, resignation,  abstinence, patience, sincerity, moderatioa seriousness,  high-mindedness. Don’t you see how much you have to offer  —beyond excuses like “can’t”? And yet you still settle for  less.  Or is it some inborn condition that makes you whiny and  grasping and obsequious, makes you complain about your  body and curry favor and show off and leaves you so  turbulent inside?  No. You could have broken free a long way back. And  then you would have been only a little slow. “Not so quick  on the uptake.”  And you need to work on that as well—that slowness. Not  something to be ignored, let alone to prize. "
Book 5 ,6,"Some people, when they do someone a favor, are always  looking for a chance to call it in. And some aren’t, but  they’re still aware of it—still regard it as a debt. But others  don’t even do that. They’re like a vine that produces grapes  without looking for anything in return.  A horse at the end of the race . . .  A dog when the hunt is over . . .  A bee with its honey stored . . .  And a human being after helping others.  They don’t make a fuss about it. They just go on to  something else, as the vine looks forward to bearing fruit  again in season.  We should be like that. Acting almost unconsciously.  —Yes. Except conscious of it. Because it’s characteristic  of social beings that they see themselves as acting socially.  And expect their neighbors to see it too!  That’s true. But you’re misunderstanding me. You’11 wind  up like the people I mentioned before, misled by plausible  reasoning. But if you make an effort to understand what I’m  saying, then you won’t need to worry about neglecting your  social duty. "
Book 5 ,7,"Prayer of the Athenians:  Zeus, rain down, rain down  On the land and fields of Athens.  Either no prayers at all—or one as straightforward as that. "
Book 5 ,8,"Just as you overhear people saying that “the doctor  prescribed such-and-such for him” (like riding, or cold  baths, or walking barefoot. . .), say this: “Nature prescribed  illness for him” Or blindness. Or the loss of a limb. Or  whatever. There “prescribed” means something like  “ordered, so as to further his recovery.” And so too here.  What happens to each of us is ordered. It furthers our destiny.  And when we describe things as “taking place,” we’re  talking like builders, who say that blocks in a wall or a  pyramid “take their place” in the structure, and fit together in  a harmonious pattern.  For there is a single harmony. Just as the world forms a  single body comprising all bodies, so fate forms a single  purpose, comprising all purposes. Even complete illiterates  acknowledge it when they say that something “brought on”  this or that. Brought on, yes. Or prescribed it. And in that  case, let’s accept it—as we accept what the doctor  prescribes. It may not always be pleasant, but we embrace it  —because we want to get well. Look at the accomplishment  of nature’s plans in that light—the way you look at your own  health—and accept what happens (even if it seems hard to  accept). Accept it because of what it leads to: the good  health of the world, and the well-being and prosperity of  Zeus himself, who would not have brought this on anyone  unless it brought benefit to the world as a whole. No nature  would do that—bring something about that wasn’t beneficial  to what it governed.  So there are two reasons to embrace what happens. One is  that it’s happening to you. It was prescribed for you, and it  pertains to you. The thread was spun long ago, by the oldest  cause of all.  The other reason is that what happens to an individual is a  cause of well-being in what directs the world—of its well¬  being, its fulfillment, of its very existence, even. Because the  whole is damaged if you cut away anything—anything at all  —from its continuity and its coherence. Not only its parts,  but its purposes. And that’s what you’re doing when you  complain: hacking and destroying. "
Book 5 ,9,"Not to feel exasperated, or defeated, or despondent  because your days aren’t packed with wise and moral  actions. But to get back up when you fail, to celebrate  behaving like a human—however imperfectly—and fully  embrace the pursuit that you’ve embarked on.  And not to think of philosophy as your instructor, but as the  sponge and egg white that relieve ophthalmia—as a soothing  ointment, a warm lotion. Not showing off your obedience to  the logos, but resting in it. Remember: philosophy requires  only what your nature already demands. What you’ve been  after is something else again—something unnatural.  —But what could be preferable?  That’s exactly how pleasure traps us, isn’t it? Wouldn’t  magnanimity be preferable? Or freedom? Honesty?  Prudence? Piety? And is there anything preferable to thought  itself—to logic, to understanding? Think of their  surefootedness. Their fluent stillness. "
Book 5 ,10," Things are wrapped in such a veil of mystery that many  good philosophers have found it impossible to make sense of  them Even the Stoics have trouble. Any assessment we make  is subject to alteration—just as we are ourselves.  Look closely at them—how impermanent they are, how  meaningless. Things that a pervert can own, a whore, a thief.  Then look at the way the people around you behave. Even  the best of them are hard to put Lip with—not to mention  putting up with yourself. In such deep darkness, such a sewer  —in the flux of material, of time, of motion and things moved  —1 don’t know what there is to value or to work for.  Quite the contrary. We need to comfort ourselves and wait  for dissolution. And not get impatient in the meantime, but  take refuge in these two things:  i. Nothing can happen to me that isn’t natural.  ii. I can keep from doing anything that God and my own  spirit don’t approve. No one can force me to. "
Book 5 ,11," What am I doing with my soul?  Interrogate yourself to find out what inhabits your so-  called mind and what kind of soul you have now. A child’s  soul, an adolescent’s, a woman’s? A tyrant’s soul? The soul  of a predator—or its prey? "
Book 5 ,12," Another way to grasp what ordinary people mean by  “goods”:  Suppose you took certain things as touchstones of  goodness: prudence, self-control, justice, and courage, say. If  you understood “goods” as meaning those, you wouldn’t be  able to follow that line about “so many goods. . . It  wouldn’t make any sense to you. Whereas if you’d  internalized the conventional meaning, you’d be able to  follow it perfectly. You’d have no trouble seeing the author’s  meaning and why it was funny.  Which shows that most people do acknowledge a  distinction. Otherwise we wouldn’t recognize the first sense  as jarring and reject it automatically, whereas we accept the  second—the one referring to wealth and the benefits of  celebrity and high living—as amusing and apropos.  Now go a step further. Ask yourself whether we should  accept as goods—and should value—the things we have to  think of to have the line make sense—the ones whose  abundance leaves their owner with “. . . no place to shit.” "
Book 5 ,13," I am made up of substance and what animates it, and  neither one can ever stop existing, any more than it began to.  Every portion of me will be reassigned as another portion of  the world, and that in turn transformed into another. Ad  infinitum  I was produced through one such transformation, and my  parents too, and so on back Ad infinitum  N.B.: Still holds good, even if the world goes through  recurrent cycles. "
Book 5 ,14," The logos and its employment are forces sufficient for  themselves and for their works. They start from their own  beginning, they proceed to the appointed end. We call such  activities ‘‘‘directed,” from the directness of their course. "
Book 5 ,15," Nothing pertains to human beings except what defines us  as human. No other things can be demanded of us. They  aren’t proper to human nature, nor is it incomplete without  them. It follows that they are not our goal, or what helps us  reach it—the good. If any of them were proper to us, it would  be improper to disdain or resist it. Nor would we admire  people who show themselves immune to it. If the things  themselves were good, it could hardly be good to give them  up. But in reality the more we deny ourselves such things  (and things like them)—or are deprived of them  involuntarily, even—the better we become. "
Book 5 ,16," The things you think about determine the quality of your  mind. Your soul takes on the color of your thoughts. Color it  with a run of thoughts like these:  i. Anywhere you can lead your life, you can lead a good  one.  —Lives are led at court. . . .  Then good ones can be.  ii. Things gravitate toward what they were intended for.  What things gravitate toward is their goal.  A thing’s goal is what benefits it—its good.  A rational being’s good is unselfishness. What we were  born for. That’s nothing new. Remember? Lower things  for the sake of higher ones, and higher ones for one  another. Things that have consciousness are higher than  those that don’t. And those with the logos still higher. "
Book 5 ,17, It is crazy to want what is impossible. And impossible  for the wicked not to do so. 
Book 5 ,18," Nothing happens to anyone that he can’t endure. The same  thing happens to other people, and they weather it unharmed  —out of sheer obliviousness or because they want to display  “character.” Is wisdom really so much weaker than  ignorance and vanity? "
Book 5 ,19," Things have no hold on the soul. They have no access to  it, cannot move or direct it. It is moved and directed by itself  alone. It takes the things before it and interprets them as it  sees fit. "
Book 5 ,20," In a sense, people are our proper occupation. Our job is  to do them good and put up with them  But when they obstruct our proper tasks, they become  irrelevant to us—like sun, wind, animals. Our actions may be  impeded by them, but there can be no impeding our intentions  or our dispositions. Because we can accommodate and  adapt. The mind adapts and converts to its own purposes the  obstacle to our acting.  The impediment to action advances action.  What stands in the way becomes the way. "
Book 5 ,21," Honor that which is greatest in the world—that on whose  business all things are employed and by whom they are  governed.  And honor what is greatest in yourself: the part that shares  its nature with that power. All things—in you as well—are  employed about its business, and your life is governed by it. "
Book 5 ,22," If it does not harm the community, it does not harm its  members.  When you think you’ve been injured, apply this rule: If the  community isn’t injured by it, neither am I. And if it is, anger  is not the answer. Show the offender where he went wrong. "
Book 5 ,23," Keep in mind how fast things pass by and are gone—  those that are now, and those to come. Existence flows past  us like a river: the “what” is in constant flux, the “why” has a  thousand variations. Nothing is stable, not even what’s right  here. The infinity of past and future gapes before us—a  chasm whose depths we cannot see.  So it would take an idiot to feel self-importance or  distress. Or any indignation, either. As if the things that  irritate us lasted. "
Book 5 ,24, Remember:  Matter. How tiny your share of it.  Time. How brief and fleeting your allotment of it.  Fate. How small a role you play in it. 
Book 5 ,25," So other people hurt me? That’s their problem. Their  character and actions are not mine. What is done to me is  ordained by nature, what I do by my own. "
Book 5 ,26," The mind is the ruler of the soul. It should remain  unstirred by agitations of the flesh—gentle and violent ones  alike. Not mingling with them, but fencing itself off and  keeping those feelings in their place. When they make their  way into your thoughts, through the sympathetic link between  mind and body, don’t try to resist the sensation. The  sensation is natural. But don’t let the mind start in with  judgments, calling it '‘good” or “bad.” "
Book 5 ,27," “To live with the gods.” And to do that is to show them  that your soul accepts what it is given and does what the  spirit requires—the spirit God gave each of us to lead and  guide us, a fragment of himself. Which is our mind, our  logos. "
Book 5 ,28," Don’t be irritated at people’s smell or bad breath.  What’s the point? With that mouth, with those armpits,  they’re going to produce that odor.  —But they have a brain! Can’t they figure it out? Can’t  they recognize the problem?  So you have a brain as well. Good for you. Then use your  logic to awaken his. Show him Make him realize it. If he’ll  listen, then you’ll have solved the problem Without anger. "
Book 5 ,28a,. Neither player-king nor prostitute. 
Book 5 ,29," You can live here as you expect to live there.  And if they won’t let you, you can depart life now and  forfeit nothing. If the smoke makes me cough, I can leave.  What’s so hard about that?  Until things reach that point. I’m free. No one can keep me  from doing what I want. And I want what is proper to  rational beings, living together. "
Book 5 ,30," The world’s intelligence is not selfish.  It created lower things for the sake of higher ones, and  attuned the higher ones to one another. Look how it  subordinates, how it connects, how it assigns each thing what  each deserves, and brings the better things into alignment. "
Book 5 ,31," How have you behaved to the gods, to your parents, to  your siblings, to your wife, to your children, to your teachers,  to your nurses, to your friends, to your relatives, to your  slaves? Have they all had from you nothing “wrong and  unworthy, either word or deed”?  Consider all that you’ve gone through, all that you’ve  survived. And that the story of your life is done, your  assignment complete. How many good things have you seen?  How much pain and pleasure have you resisted? How many  honors have you declined? How many unkind people have  you been kind to? "
Book 5 ,32," Why do other souls—unskilled, untrained—disturb the  soul with skill and understanding?  —And which is that?  The one that knows the beginning and the end, and knows  the logos that runs through all things and that assigns to all a  place, each in its allotted span, throughout the whole of time. "
Book 5 ,33," Soon you’ll be ashes, or bones. A mere name, at most—  and even that is just a sound, an echo. The things we want in  life are empty, stale, and trivial. Dogs snarling at each other.  Quarreling children—laughing and then bursting into tears a  moment later. Trust, shame, justice, truth—""gone from the  earth and only found in heaven.”  Why are you still here? Sensory objects are shifting and  unstable; our senses dim and easily deceived; the soul itself a  decoction of the blood; fame in a world like this is  worthless.  —And so?  Wait for it patiently—annihilation or metamorphosis.  —And until that time comes—what?  Honor and revere the gods, treat human beings as they  deserve, be tolerant with others and strict with yourself.  Remember, nothing belongs to you but your flesh and blood  -and nothing else is under your control. "
Book 5 ,34," You can lead an untroubled life provided you can grow,  can think and act systematically.  Two characteristics shared by gods and men (and every  rational creature):  i. Not to let others hold you back.  ii. To locate goodness in thinking and doing the right  thing, and to limit your desires to that. "
Book 5 ,35," If:  • this evil is not of my doing,  • nor the result of it,  • and the community is not endangered, why should it  bother me?  Where's the danger for the community? "
Book 5 ,36," Not to be overwhelmed by what you imagine, but just do  what you can and should. And if < . . . > suffer in  inessentials, not to treat that as a defeat. (Bad habit.)  Like the old man asking for the orphan’s toy on the way out  —even though he knew that’s all it was. Like that. "
Book 5 ,36a,". f Up on the platform, f  Have you forgotten what’s what?  —1 know, but it was important to them.  And so you have to be an idiot as well? "
Book 5 ,37," I was once a fortunate man but at some point fortune  abandoned me.  But true good fortune is what you make for yourself. Good  fortune: good character, good intentions, and good actions. "
Book 6 ,1,"Nature is pliable, obedient. And the logos that governs it  has no reason to do evil. It knows no evil, does none, and  causes harm to nothing. It dictates all beginnings and all  endings. "
Book 6 ,2,"Just that you do the right thing. The rest doesn’t matter.  Cold or warm  Tired or well-rested.  Despised or honored.  Dying ... or busy with other assignments.  Because dying, too, is one of our assignments in life.  There as well: “to do what needs doing.” "
Book 6 ,3,Look inward. Don’t let the true nature or value of anything  elude you. 
Book 6 ,4,"Before long, all existing things will be transformed, to rise  like smoke (assuming all things become one), or be  dispersed in fragments. "
Book 6 ,5,"The logos knows where it stands, and what it has to do,  and what it has to work with. "
Book 6 ,6,The best revenge is not to be like that. 
Book 6 ,7,"To move from one unselfish action to another with God in  mind.  Only there, delight and stillness. "
Book 6 ,8,The mind is that which is roused and directed by itself. It  makes of itself what it chooses. It makes what it chooses of  its own experience. 
Book 6 ,9,"Everything is brought about by nature, not by anything  beyond it, or within it, or apart from it. "
Book 6 ,10," (i) Mixture, interaction, dispersal; or (ii) unity, order,  design.  Suppose (i): Why would I want to live in disorder and  confusion? Why would I care about anything except the  eventual “dust to dust”? And why would I feel any anxiety?  Dispersal is certain, whatever I do.  Or suppose (ii): Reverence. Serenity. Faith in the power  responsible. "
Book 6 ,11," When jarred, unavoidably, by circumstances, revert at  once to yourself, and don’t lose the rhythm more than you can  help. You’ll have a better grasp of the harmony if you keep  on going back to it. "
Book 6 ,12," If you had a stepmother and a real mother, you would pay  your respects to your stepmother, yes . . . but it’s your real  mother you’d go home to.  The court . . . and philosophy: Keep returning to it, to rest  in its embrace. It’s all that makes the court—and you—  endurable. "
Book 6 ,13," Like seeing roasted meat and other dishes in front of you  and suddenly realizing: This is a dead fish. A dead bird. A  dead pig. Or that this noble vintage is grape juice, and the  purple robes are sheep wool dyed with shellfish blood. Or  making love—something rubbing against your penis, a brief  seizure and a little cloudy liquid.  Perceptions like that—latching onto things and piercing  through them, so we see what they really are. That’s what we  need to do all the time—all through our lives when things lay  claim to our trust—to lay them bare and see how pointless  they are, to strip away the legend that encrusts them.  Pride is a master of deception: when you think you’re  occupied in the weightiest business, that’s when he has you  in his spell.  (Compare Crates onXenocrates.) "
Book 6 ,14," Things ordinary people are impressed by fall into the  categories of things that are held together by simple physics  (like stones or wood), or by natural growth (figs, vines,  olives . . .). Those admired by more advanced minds are held  together by a living soul (flocks of sheep, herds of cows).  Still more sophisticated people admire what is guided by a  rational mind—not the universal mind, but one admired for  its technical knowledge, or for some other skill—or just  because it happens to own a lot of slaves.  But those who revere that other mind—the one we all  share, as humans and as citizens—aren’t interested in other  things. Their focus is on the state of their own minds—to  avoid all selfishness and illogic, and to work with others to  achieve that goal. "
Book 6 ,15," Some things are rushing into existence, others out of it.  Some of what now exists is already gone. Change and flux  constantly remake the world, just as the incessant  progression of time remakes eternity.  We find ourselves in a river. Which of the things around us  should we value when none of them can offer a firm  foothold?  Like an attachment to a sparrow: we glimpse it and it’s  gone.  And life itself: like the decoction of blood, the drawing in  of air. We expel the power of breathing we drew in at birth  (just yesterday or the day before), breathing it out like the air  we exhale at each moment. "
Book 6 ,16," What is it in ourselves that we should prize?  Not just transpiration (even plants do that).  Or respiration (even beasts and wild animals breathe).  Or being struck by passing thoughts.  Or jerked like a puppet by your own impulses.  Or moving in herds.  Or eating, and relieving yourself afterwards.  Then what is to be prized?  An audience clapping? No. No more than the clacking of  their tongues. Which is all that public praise amounts to—a  clacking of tongues.  So we throw out other people’s recognition. What’s left  for us to prize?  I think it’s this: to do (and not do) what we were designed  for. That’s the goal of all trades, all arts, and what each of  them aims at: that the thing they create should do what it was  designed to do. The nurseryman who cares for the vines, the  horse trainer, the dog breeder—this is what they aim at. And  teaching and education—what else are they trying to  accomplish?  So that’s what we should prize. Hold on to that, and you  won’t be tempted to aim at anything else.  And if you can’t stop prizing a lot of other things? Then  you’ll never be free—free, independent, imperturbable.  Because you’ll always be envious and jealous, afraid that  people might come and take it all away from you. Plotting  against those who have them—those things you prize. People  who need those things are bound to be a mess—and bound to  take out their frustrations on the gods. Whereas to respect  your own mind—to prize it—will leave you satisfied with  your own self, well integrated into your community and in  time with the gods as well—embracing what they allot you,  and what they ordain. "
Book 6 ,17," The elements move upward, downward, in all directions.  The motion of virtue is different—deeper. It moves at a  steady pace on a road hard to discern, and always forward. "
Book 6 ,18," The way people behave. They refuse to admire their  contemporaries, the people whose lives they share. No, but  to be admired by Posterity—people they’ve never met and  never will—that’s what they set their hearts on. You might as  well be upset at not being a hero to your great-grandfather. "
Book 6 ,19," Not to assume it’s impossible because you find it hard.  But to recognize that if it’s humanly possible, you can do it  too. "
Book 6 ,20," In the ring, our opponents can gouge us with their nails or  butt us with their heads and leave a bruise, but we don’t  denounce them for it or get upset with them or regard them  from then on as violent types. We just keep an eye on them  after that. Not out of hatred or suspicion. Just keeping a  friendly distance.  We need to do that in other areas. We need to excuse what  our sparring partners do, and just keep our distance—without  suspicion or hatred. "
Book 6 ,21," If anyone can refute me—show me I’m making a mistake  or looking at things from the wrong perspective—I’ll gladly  change. It’s the truth I’m after, and the truth never harmed  anyone. What harms us is to persist in self-deceit and  ignorance. "
Book 6 ,22," I do what is mine to do; the rest doesn’t disturb me. The  rest is inanimate, or has no logos, or it wanders at random  and has lost the road. "
Book 6 ,23," When you deal with irrational animals, with things and  circumstances, be generous and straightforward. You are  rational; they are not. When you deal with fellow human  beings, behave as one. They share in the logos. And invoke  the gods regardless.  Don’t worry about how long you’ll go on doing this.  A single afternoon would be enough. "
Book 6 ,24," Alexander the Great and his mule driver both died and  the same thing happened to both. They were absorbed alike  into the life force of the world, or dissolved alike into atoms. "
Book 6 ,25," Think how much is going on inside you every second—in  your soul, in your body. Why should it astonish you that so  much more—everything that happens in that all-embracing  unity, the world—is happening at the same time? "
Book 6 ,26," If someone asked you how to write your name, would you  clench your teeth and spit out the letters one by one? If he lost  his temper, would you lose yours as well? Or would you just  spell out the individual letters?  Remember—your responsibilities can be broken down  into individual parts as well. Concentrate on those, and finish  the job methodically—without getting stirred up or meeting  anger with anger. "
Book 6 ,27, How cruel—to forbid people to want what they think is  good for them And yet that’s just what you won’t let them do  when you get angry at their misbehavior. They’re drawn  toward what they think is good for them  —But it’s not good for them  Then show them that. Prove it to them Instead of losing  your temper. 
Book 6 ,28," Death. The end of sense-perception, of being controlled  by our emotions, of mental activity, of enslavement to our  bodies. "
Book 6 ,29, Disgraceful: for the soul to give up when the body is still  going strong. 
Book 6 ,30," To escape imperialization—that indelible stain. It  happens. Make sure you remain straightforward, upright,  reverent, serious, unadorned, an ally of justice, pious, kind,  affectionate, and doing your duty with a will. Fight to be the  person philosophy tried to make you.  Revere the gods; watch over human beings. Our lives are  short. The only rewards of our existence here are an  unstained character and unselfish acts.  Take Antoninus as your model, always. His energy in  doing what was rational ... his steadiness in any situation . .  . his sense of reverence ... his calm expression ... his  gentleness ... his modesty ... his eagerness to grasp things.  And how he never let things go before he was sure he had  examined them thoroughly, understood them perfectly ... the  way he put up with unfair criticism, without returning it . . .  how he couldn’t be hurried . . . how he wouldn’t listen to  informers . . . how reliable he was as a judge of character,  and of actions . . . not prone to backbiting, or cowardice, or  jealousy, or empty rhetoric . . . content with the basics—in  living quarters, bedding, clothes, food, servants . . . how hard  he worked, how much he put up with ... his ability to work  straight through till dusk—because of his simple diet (he  didn’t even need to relieve himself, except at set times) . . .  his constancy and reliability as a friend ... his tolerance of  people who openly questioned his views and his delight at  seeing his ideas improved on ... his piety—without a trace  of superstition . . .  So that when your time comes, your conscience will be as  clear as his. "
Book 6 ,31," Awaken; return to yourself. Now, no longer asleep,  knowing they were only dreams, clear-headed again, treat  everything around you as a dream "
Book 6 ,32,1 am composed of a body and a soul.  Things that happen to the body are meaningless. It cannot  discriminate among them  Nothing has meaning to my mind except its own actions.  Which are within its own control. And it’s only the  immediate ones that matter. Its past and future actions too are  meaningless. 
Book 6 ,33," It’s normal to feel pain in your hands and feet, if you’re  using your feet as feet and your hands as hands. And for a  human being to feel stress is normal—if he’s living a normal  human life.  And if it’s normal, how can it be bad? "
Book 6 ,34," Thieves, perverts, parricides, dictators: the kind of  pleasures they enjoy. "
Book 6 ,35, Have you noticed how professionals will meet the man  on the street halfway but without compromising the logos of  their trade? Should we as humans feel less responsibility to  our logos than builders or pharmacists do? A logos we share  with the divine? 
Book 6 ,36," Asia and Europe: distant recesses of the universe.  The ocean: a drop of water.  Mount Athos: a molehill.  The present: a split second in eternity.  Minuscule, transitory, insignificant. "
Book 6 ,36a,". Everything derives from it—that universal mind—either  as effect or consequence. The lion’s jaws, the poisonous  substances, and every harmful thing—from thorns to mud . . .  are by-products of the good and beautiful. So don’t look at  them as alien to what you revere, but focus on the source that  all things spring from. "
Book 6 ,37," If you’ve seen the present then you’ve seen everything—  as it’s been since the beginning, as it will be forever. The  same substance, the same form. All of it. "
Book 6 ,38," Keep reminding yourself of the way things are connected,  of their relatedness. All things are implicated in one another  and in sympathy with each other. This event is the  consequence of some other one. Things push and pull on each  other, and breathe together, and are one. "
Book 6 ,39, The things ordained for you—teach yourself to be at one  with those. And the people who share them with you—treat  them with love.  With real love. 
Book 6 ,40," Implements, tools, equipment. If they do what they were  designed for, then they work. Even if the person who  designed them is miles away.  But with naturally occurring things, the force that designed  them is present within them and remains there. Which is why  we owe it special reverence, with the recognition that if you  live and act as it dictates, then everything in you is  intelligently ordered. Just as everything in the world is. "
Book 6 ,41," You take things you don’t control and define them as  “good” or “bad.” And so of course when the “bad” things  happen, or the “good” ones don’t, you blame the gods and  feel hatred for the people responsible—or those you decide  to make responsible. Much of our bad behavior stems from  trying to apply those criteria. If we limited “good” and “bad”  to our own actions, we’d have no call to challenge God, or to  treat other people as enemies. "
Book 6 ,42," All of us are working on the same project. Some  consciously, with understanding; some without knowing it. (I  think this is what Heraclitus meant when he said that “those  who sleep are also hard at work”—that they too collaborate  in what happens.) Some of us work in one way, and some in  others. And those who complain and try to obstruct and  thwart things—they help as much as anyone. The world  needs them as well.  So make up your mind who you’ll choose to work with.  The force that directs all things will make good use of you  regardless—will put you on its payroll and set you to work.  But make sure it’s not the job Chrysippus speaks of: the bad  line in the play, put there for laughs. "
Book 6 ,43," Does the sun try to do the rain’s work? Or Asclepius  Demeter’s? And what about each of the stars—different, yet  working in common? "
Book 6 ,44," If the gods have made decisions about me and the things  that happen to me, then they were good decisions. (It’s hard  to picture a god who makes bad ones.) And why would they  expend their energies on causing me harm? What good would  it do them—or the world, which is their primary concern?  And if they haven’t made decisions about me as an  individual, they certainly have about the general welfare.  And anything that follows from that is something 1 have to  welcome and embrace.  And if they make no decisions, about anything—and it’s  blasphemous even to think so (because if so, then let’s stop  sacrificing, praying, swearing oaths, and doing all the other  things we do, believing the whole time that the gods are right  here with us)—if they decide nothing about our lives . . .  well, I can still make decisions. Can still consider what it’s  to my benefit to do. And what benefits anyone is to do what  his own nature requires. And mine is rational. Rational and  civic.  My city and state are Rome—as Antoninus. But as a human  being? The world. So for me, “good” can only mean what’s  good for both communities. "
Book 6 ,45, Whatever happens to you is for the good of the world.  That would be enough right there. But if you look closely  you’ll generally notice something else as well: whatever  happens to a single person is for the good of others. (Good in  the ordinary sense—as the world defines it.) 
Book 6 ,46," Just as the arena and the other spectacles weary you—  you’ve seen them all before—and the repetition grates on  your nerves, so too with life. The same things, the same  causes, on all sides.  How much longer? "
Book 6 ,47," Keep this constantly in mind: that all sorts of people have  died—all professions, all nationalities. Follow the thought  all the way down to Philistion. Phoebus, and Origanion. Now  extend it to other species.  We have to go there too, where all of them have already  gone:  ... the eloquent and the wise—Heraclitus, Pythagoras,  Socrates . . .  ... the heroes of old, the soldiers and kings who followed  them. . .  . . . Eudoxus, Hipparchus, Archimedes . . .  ... the smart, the generous, the hardworking, the cunning,  the selfish . . .  . . . and even Menippus and his cohorts, who laughed at  thewhole brief, fragile business.  All underground for a long time now.  And what harm does it do them? Or the others either—the  ones whose names we don’t even know?  The only thing that isn’t worthless: to live this life out  truthfully and rightly. And be patient with those who don’t. "
Book 6 ,48," When you need encouragement, think of the qualities the  people around you have: this one’s energy, that one’s  modesty, another’s generosity, and so on. Nothing is as  encouraging as when virtues are visibly embodied in the  people around us, when we’re practically showered with  them  It’s good to keep this in mind. "
Book 6 ,49, It doesn’t bother you that you weigh only v or v pounds  and not three hundred. Why should it bother you that you have  only v or v years to live and not more? You accept the limits  placed on your body. Accept those placed on your time. 
Book 6 ,50," Do your best to convince them But act on your own, if  justice requires it. If met with force, then fall back on  acceptance and peaceability. Use the setback to practice  other virtues.  Remember that our efforts are subject to circumstances;  you weren’t aiming to do the impossible.  —Aiming to do what, then?  To try. And you succeeded. What you set out to do is  accomplished. "
Book 6 ,51, Ambition means tying your well-being to what other  people say or do.  Self-indulgence means tying it to the things that happen to  you.  Sanity means tying it to your own actions. 
Book 6 ,52, You don’t have to turn this into something. It doesn’t  have to upset you. Things can’t shape our decisions by  themselves. 
Book 6 ,53, Practice really hearing what people say. Do your best to  get inside their minds. 
Book 6 ,54, What injures the hive injures the bee. 
Book 6 ,55," If the crew talked back to the captain, or patients to their  doctor, then whose authority would they accept? How could  the passengers be kept safe or the patient healthy? "
Book 6 ,56, All those people who came into the world with me and  have already left it. 
Book 6 ,57, Honey tastes bitter to a man with jaundice. People with  rabies are terrified of water. And a child’s idea of beauty is  a ball. Why does that upset you? Do you think falsehood is  less powerful than bile or a rabid dog? 
Book 6 ,58, No one can keep you from living as your nature requires.  Nothing can happen to you that is not required by Nature. 
Book 6 ,59," The people they want to ingratiate themselves with, and  the results, and the things they do in the process. How  quickly it will all be erased by time. How much has been  erased already. "
Book 7 ,1,"Evil: the same old thing.  No matter what happens, keep this in mind: It’s the same  old thing, from one end of the world to the other. It fills the  history books, ancient and modern, and the cities, and the  houses too. Nothing new at all.  Familiar, transient. "
Book 7 ,2,"You cannot quench understanding unless you put out the  insights that compose it. But you can rekindle those at will,  like glowing coals. I can control my thoughts as necessary;  then how can I be troubled? What is outside my mind means  nothing to it. Absorb that lesson and your feet stand firm  You can return to life. Look at things as you did before.  And life returns. "
Book 7 ,3,"Pointless bustling of processions, opera arias, herds of  sheep and cattle, military exercises. A bone flung to pet  poodles, a little food in the fish tank. The miserable  servitude of ants, scampering of frightened mice, puppets  jerked on strings.  Surrounded as we are by all of this, we need to practice  acceptance. Without disdain. But remembering that our own  worth is measured by what we devote our energy to. "
Book 7 ,4,"Focus on what is said when you speak and on what results  from each action. Know what the one aims at, and what the  other means. "
Book 7 ,5,"Is my intellect up to this? If so, then I’ll put it to work, like  a tool provided by nature. And if it isn’t, then I’ll turn the job  over to someone who can do better—unless 1 have no choice.  Or I do the best I can with it, and collaborate with  whoever can make use of it, to do what the community needs  done. Because whatever I do—alone or with others—can  aim at one thing only: what squares with those requirements. "
Book 7 ,6,"So many who were remembered already forgotten, and  those who remembered them long gone. "
Book 7 ,7,"Don’t be ashamed to need help. Like a soldier storming a  wall, you have a mission to accomplish. And if you’ve been  wounded and you need a comrade to pull you up? So what? "
Book 7 ,8,"Forget the future. When and if it comes, you’ll have the  same resources to draw on—the same logos. "
Book 7 ,9,"Everything is interwoven, and the web is holy; none of its  parts are unconnected. They are composed harmoniously, and  together they compose the world.  One world, made up of all things.  One divinity, present in them all.  One substance and one law—the logos that all rational  beings share.  And one truth . . .  If this is indeed the culmination of one process, beings  who share the same birth, the same logos. "
Book 7 ,10," All substance is soon absorbed into nature, all that  animates it soon restored to the logos, all trace of them both  soon covered over by time. "
Book 7 ,11," To a being with logos, an unnatural action is one that  conflicts with the logos. "
Book 7 ,12," Straight, not straightened. "
Book 7 ,13," What is rational in different beings is related, like the  individual limbs of a single being, and meant to function as a  unit.  This will be clearer to you if you remind yourself: I am a  single limb ( melos ) of a larger body—a rational one.  Or you could say “a part” ( meros )—only a letter’s  difference. But then you’re not really embracing other  people. Helping them isn’t yet its own reward. You’re still  seeing it only as The Right Thing To Do. You don’t yet  realize who you’re really helping. "
Book 7 ,14," Let it happen, if it wants, to whatever it can happen to.  And what’s affected can complain about it if it wants. It  doesn’t hurt me unless I interpret its happening as harmful to  me. I can choose not to. "
Book 7 ,15," No matter what anyone says or does, my task is to be  good. Like gold or emerald or purple repeating to itself, “No  matter what anyone says or does, my task is to be emerald,  my color undiminished.” "
Book 7 ,16," The mind doesn’t get in its own way. It doesn’t frighten  itself into desires. If other things can scare or hurt it, let them;  it won’t go down that road on the basis of its own  perceptions.  Let the body avoid discomfort (if it can), and if it feels it,  say so. But the soul is what feels fear and pain, and what  conceives of them in the first place, and it suffers nothing.  Because it will never conclude that it has.  The mind in itself has no needs, except for those it creates  itself. Is undisturbed, except for its own disturbances. Knows  no obstructions, except those from within. "
Book 7 ,17," Well-being is good luck, or good character. "
Book 7 ,17a,". (But what are you doing here, Perceptions? Get back to  where you came from, and good riddance. I don’t need you.  Yes, I know, it was only force of habit that brought you. No,  I’m not angry with you. Just go away.) "
Book 7 ,18, Frightened of change? But what can exist without it?  What’s closer to nature’s heart? Can you take a hot bath and  leave the firewood as it was? Eat food without transforming  it? Can any vital process take place without something being  changed?  Can’t you see? It’s just the same with you—and just as  vital to nature. 
Book 7 ,19," Carried through existence as through rushing rapids. All  bodies. Which are sprung from nature and cooperate with it,  as our limbs do with each other. Time has swallowed a  Chrysippus, a Socrates and an Epictetus, many times over.  For “Epictetus” read any person, and any thing. "
Book 7 ,20," My only fear is doing something contrary to human nature  —the wrong thing, the wrong way, or at the wrong time. "
Book 7 ,21," Close to forgetting it all, close to being forgotten. "
Book 7 ,22," To feel affection for people even when they make  mistakes is uniquely human. You can do it, if you simply  recognize: that they’re human too, that they act out of  ignorance, against their will, and that you’ll both be dead  before long. And, above all, that they haven’t really hurt you.  They haven’t diminished your ability to choose. "
Book 7 ,23," Nature takes substance and makes a horse. Like a  sculptor with wax. And then melts it down and uses the  material for a tree. Then for a person. Then for something  else. Each existing only briefly.  It does the container no harm to be put together, and none  to be taken apart. "
Book 7 ,24," Anger in the face is unnatural, f ... f or in the end is put  out for good, so that it can’t be rekindled. Try to conclude its  unnaturalness from that. (If even the consciousness of acting  badly has gone, why go on living?) "
Book 7 ,25," Before long, nature, which controls it all, will alter  everything you see and use it as material for something else  —over and over again. So that the world is continually  renewed. "
Book 7 ,26," When people injure you, ask yourself what good or harm  they thought would come of it. If you understand that, you’ll  feel sympathy rather than outrage or anger. Your sense of  good and evil may be the same as theirs, or near it, in which  case you have to excuse them. Or your sense of good and evil  may differ from theirs. In which case they’re misguided and  deserve your compassion. Is that so hard? "
Book 7 ,27," Treat what you don’t have as nonexistent. Look at what  you have, the things you value most, and think of how much  you’d crave them if you didn’t have them. But be careful.  Don’t feel such satisfaction that you start to overvalue them  —that it would upset you to lose them. "
Book 7 ,28," Self-contraction: the mind’s requirements are satisfied by  doing what we should, and by the calm it brings us. "
Book 7 ,29," Discard your misperceptions.  Stop being jerked like a puppet.  Limit yourself to the present.  Understand what happens—to you, to others.  Analyze what exists, break it all down: material and  cause.  Anticipate your final hours.  Other people’s mistakes? Leave them to their makers. "
Book 7 ,30, To direct your thoughts to what is said. To focus the mind  on what happens and what makes it happen. 
Book 7 ,31," Wash yourself clean. With simplicity, with humility, with  indifference to everything but right and wrong.  Care for other human beings. Follow God. "
Book 7 ,31a,". “ . . . all are relative,” it’s been said, “and in reality  only atoms.” It’s enough to remember the first half: “all are  relative.” “ Which is little enough. “ "
Book 7 ,32," [On death:] If atoms, dispersed. If oneness, quenched or  changed. "
Book 7 ,33," [On pain:] Unendurable pain brings its own end with it.  Chronic pain is always endurable: the intelligence maintains  serenity by cutting itself off from the body, the mind remains  undiminished. And the parts that pain affects—let them speak  for themselves, if they can. "
Book 7 ,34," [On Ambition:] How their minds work, the things they  long for and fear. Events like piles of sand, drift upon drift—  each one soon hidden by the next. "
Book 7 ,35," “ ‘If his mind is filled with nobility, with a grasp of all  time, all existence, do you think our human life will mean  much to him at all?’  “ ‘How could it?’ he said.  “ ‘Or death be very frightening?’  “ ‘Not in the least.’ ” "
Book 7 ,36, “Kingship: to earn a bad reputation by good deeds.” 
Book 7 ,37," Disgraceful: that the mind should control the face, should  be able to shape and mold it as it pleases, but not shape and  mold itself. "
Book 7 ,38, “And why should we feel anger at the world? As if the  world would notice!” 
Book 7 ,39, “May you bring joy to us and those on high.” 
Book 7 ,40, “To harvest life like standing stalks of grain Grown and  cut down in turn.” 
Book 7 ,41, “If I and my two children cannot move the gods The gods  must have their reasons.” 
Book 7 ,42, ‘‘For what is just and good is on my side.” 
Book 7 ,43," No chorus of lamentation, no hysterics. "
Book 7 ,44," ‘‘Then the only proper response for me to make is this:  ‘You are much mistaken, my friend, if you think that any man  worth his salt cares about the risk of death and doesn’t  concentrate on this alone: whether what he’s doing is right or  wrong, and his behavior a good man’s or a bad one’s.’ ” "
Book 7 ,45," “It’s like this, gentlemen of the jury: The spot where a  person decides to station himself, or wherever his  commanding officer stations him—well, I think that’s where  he ought to take his stand and face the enemy, and not worry  about being killed, or about anything but doing his duty.” "
Book 7 ,46," “But, my good friend, consider the possibility that  nobility and virtue are not synonymous with the loss or  preservation of one’s life. Is it not possible that a real man  should forget about living a certain number of years, and  should not cling to life, but leave it up to the gods, accepting,  as women say, that ‘no one can escape his fate,’ and turn his  attention to how he can best live the life before him?” "
Book 7 ,47, To watch the courses of the stars as if you revolved with  them To keep constantly in mind how the elements alter into  one another. Thoughts like this wash off the mud of life  below. 
Book 7 ,48," [Plato has it right.] If you want to talk about people, you  need to look down on the earth from above. Herds, armies,  farms; weddings, divorces, births, deaths; noisy courtrooms,  desert places; all the foreign peoples; holidays, days of  mourning, market days ... all mixed together, a harmony of  opposites. "
Book 7 ,49," Look at the past—empire succeeding empire—and from  that, extrapolate the future: the same thing. No escape from  the rhythm of events.  Which is why observing life for forty years is as good as a  thousand. Would you really see anything new? "
Book 7 ,50, “ . . . Earth’s offspring back to earth  But all that’s born of heaven  To heaven returns again.”  Either that or the cluster of atoms pulls apart and one way or  another the insensible elements disperse. 
Book 7 ,51, “.. . with food and drink and magic spells  Seeking some novel way to frustrate death.” 
Book 7 ,51a,. “To labor cheerfully and so endure  The wind that blows from heaven.” 
Book 7 ,52," A better wrestler. But not a better citizen, a better person,  a better resource in tight places, a better forgiver of faults. "
Book 7 ,53," Wherever something can be done as the logos shared by  gods and men dictates, there all is in order. Where there is  profit because our effort is productive, because it advances  in step with our nature, there we have nothing to fear. "
Book 7 ,54," Everywhere, at each moment, you have the option:  • to accept this event with humility  • to treat this person as he should be treated  • to approach this thought with care, so that nothing  irrational creeps in. "
Book 7 ,55," Don’t pay attention to other people’s minds. Look straight  ahead, where nature is leading you—nature in general,  through the things that happen to you; and your own nature,  through your own actions.  Everything has to do what it was made for. And other  things were made for those with logos. In this respect as in  others: lower things exist for the sake of higher ones, and  higher things for one another.  Now, the main thing we were made for is to work with  others.  Secondly, to resist our body’s urges. Because things  driven by logos —by thought—have the capacity for  detachment—to resist impulses and sensations, both of which  are merely corporeal. Thought seeks to be their master, not  their subject. And so it should: they were created for its use.  And the third thing is to avoid rashness and credulity.  The mind that grasps this and steers straight ahead should  be able to hold its own. "
Book 7 ,56, Think of yourself as dead. You have lived your life. Now  take what’s left and live it properly. 
Book 7 ,57," To love only what happens, what was destined. No  greater harmony. "
Book 7 ,58," In all that happens, keep before your eyes those who  experienced it before you, and felt shock and outrage and  resentment at it.  And now where are they? Nowhere.  Is that what you want to be like? Instead of avoiding all  these distracting assaults—leaving the alarms and flight to  others—and concentrating on what you can do with it all?  Because you can use it, treat it as raw material. Just pay  attention, and resolve to live up to your own expectations. In  everything. And when faced with a choice, remember: our  business is with things that really matter. "
Book 7 ,59," Dig deep; the water—goodness—is down there. And as  long as you keep digging, it will keep bubbling up. "
Book 7 ,60, What the body needs is stability. To be impervious to  jolts in all it is and does. The cohesiveness and beauty that  intelligence lends to the face—that’s what the body needs.  But it should come without effort. 
Book 7 ,61," Not a dancer but a wrestler: waiting, poised and dug in,  for sudden assaults. "
Book 7 ,62," Look at who they really are, the people whose approval  you long for, and what their minds are really like. Then you  won’t blame the ones who make mistakes they can’t help, and  you won’t feel a need for their approval. You will have seen  the sources of both—their judgments and their actions. "
Book 7 ,63," “Against our will, our souls are cut off from truth.”  Truth, yes, and justice, self-control, kindness . . .  Important to keep this in mind. It will make you more  patient with other people. "
Book 7 ,64," For times when you feel pain:  See that it doesn’t disgrace you, or degrade your  intelligence—doesn’t keep it from acting rationally or  unselfishly.  And in most cases what Epicurus said should help: that  pain is neither unbearable nor unending, as long as you keep  in mind its limits and don’t magnify them in your imagination.  And keep in mind too that pain often comes in disguise—  as drowsiness, fever, loss of appetite. . . . When you’re  bothered by things like that, remind yourself: “I’m giving in  to pain.” "
Book 7 ,65, Take care that you don’t treat inhumanity as it treats  human beings. 
Book 7 ,66," How do we know that Telauges wasn’t a better man than  Socrates?  It’s not enough to ask whether Socrates’ death was nobler,  whether he debated with the sophists more adeptly, whether  he showed greater endurance by spending the night out in the  cold, and when he was ordered to arrest the man from  Salamis decided it was preferable to refuse, and “swaggered  about the streets” (which one could reasonably doubt).  What matters is what kind of soul he had.  Whether he was satisfied to treat men with justice and the  gods with reverence and didn’t lose his temper unpredictably  at evil done by others, didn’t make himself the slave of other  people’s ignorance, didn’t treat anything that nature did as  abnormal, or put up with it as an unbearable imposition,  didn’t put his mind in his body’s keeping. "
Book 7 ,67," Nature did not blend things so inextricably that you can’t  draw your own boundaries—place your own well-being in  your own hands. It’s quite possible to be a good man without  anyone realizing it. Remember that.  And this too: you don’t need much to live happily. And  just because you’ve abandoned your hopes of becoming a  great thinker or scientist, don’t give up on attaining freedom,  achieving humility, serving others, obeying God. "
Book 7 ,68," To live life in peace, immune to all compulsion. Let them  scream whatever they want. Let animals dismember this soft  flesh that covers you. How would any of that stop you from  keeping your mind calm—reliably sizing up what’s around  you—and ready to make good use of whatever happens? So  that Judgment can look the event in the eye and say, “This is  what you really are, regardless of what you may look like.”  While Adaptability adds, “You’re just what I was looking  for.” Because to me the present is a chance for the exercise  of rational virtue—civic virtue—in short, the art that men  share with gods. Both treat whatever happens as wholly  natural; not novel or hard to deal with, but familiar and  easily handled. "
Book 7 ,69," Perfection of character: to live your last day, every day,  without frenzy, or sloth, or pretense. "
Book 7 ,70," The gods live forever and yet they don’t seem annoyed at  having to put up with human beings and their behavior  throughout eternity. And not only put up with but actively  care for them  And you—on the verge of death—you still refuse to care  for them, although you’re one of them yourself. "
Book 7 ,71, It’s silly to try to escape other people’s faults. They are  inescapable. Just try to escape your own. 
Book 7 ,72," Whenever the force that makes us rational and social  encounters something that is neither, then it can reasonably  regard it as inferior. "
Book 7 ,73," You’ve given aid and they’ve received it. And yet, like  an idiot, you keep holding out for more: to be credited with a  Good Deed, to be repaid in kind. Why? "
Book 7 ,74, No one objects to what is useful to him  To be of use to others is natural.  Then don’t object to what is useful to you—being of use. 
Book 7 ,75, Nature willed the creation of the world. Either all that  exists follows logically or even those things to which the  world’s intelligence most directs its will are completely  random  A source of serenity in more situations than one. 
Book 8 ,1,"Another encouragement to humility: you can’t claim to  have lived your life as a philosopher—not even your whole  adulthood. You can see for yourself how far you are from  philosophy. And so can many others. You’re tainted. It’s not  so easy now—to have a reputation as a philosopher. And  your position is an obstacle as well.  So you know how things stand. Now forget what they think  of you. Be satisfied if you can live the rest of your life,  however short, as your nature demands. Focus on that, and  don’t let anything distract you. You’ve wandered all over  and finally realized that you never found what you were  after: how to live. Not in syllogisms, not in money, or fame,  or self-indulgence. Nowhere.  —Then where is it to be found?  In doing what human nature requires.  —How?  Through first principles. Which should govern your  intentions and your actions.  —What principles?  Those to do with good and evil. That nothing is good  except what leads to fairness, and self-control, and courage,  and free will. And nothing bad except what does the  opposite. "
Book 8 ,2,"For every action, ask: How does it affect me? Could I  change my mind about it?  But soon I’ll be dead, and the slate’s empty. So this is the  only question: Is it the action of a responsible being, part of  society, and subject to the same decrees as God? "
Book 8 ,3,"Alexander and Caesar and Pompey. Compared with  Diogenes, Heraclitus, Socrates? The philosophers knew the  what, the why, the how. Their minds were their own.  The others? Nothing but anxiety and enslavement. "
Book 8 ,4,"You can hold your breath until you turn blue, but they’ll  still go on doing it. "
Book 8 ,5,"The first step: Don’t be anxious. Nature controls it all.  And before long you’ll be no one, nowhere—like Hadrian,  like Augustus.  The second step: Concentrate on what you have to do. Fix  your eyes on it. Remind yourself that your task is to be a  good human being; remind yourself what nature demands of  people. Then do it, without hesitation, and speak the truth as  you see it. But with kindness. With humility. Without  hypocrisy. "
Book 8 ,6,"Nature’s job: to shift things elsewhere, to transform them,  to pick them up and move them here and there. Constant  alteration. But not to worry: there’s nothing new here.  Everything is familiar. Even the proportions are unchanged. "
Book 8 ,7,"Nature of any kind thrives on forward progress. And  progress for a rational mind means not accepting falsehood  or uncertainty in its perceptions, making unselfish actions its  only aim, seeking and shunning only the things it has control  over, embracing what nature demands of it—the nature in  which it participates, as the leaf’s nature does in the tree’s.  Except that the nature shared by the leaf is without  consciousness or reason, and subject to impediments.  Whereas that shared by human beings is without  impediments, and rational, and just, since it allots to each  and every thing an equal and proportionate share of time,  being, purpose, action, chance. Examine it closely. Not  whether they’re identical point by point, but in the aggregate:  this weighed against that. "
Book 8 ,8,"No time for reading. For controlling your arrogance, yes.  For overcoming pain and pleasure, yes. For outgrowing  ambition, yes. For not feeling anger at stupid and unpleasant  people—even for caring about them—for that, yes. "
Book 8 ,9,Don’t be overheard complaining about life at court. Not  even to yourself. 
Book 8 ,10," Remorse is annoyance at yourself for having passed up  something that’s to your benefit. But if it’s to your benefit it  must be good—something a truly good person would be  concerned about.  But no truly good person would feel remorse at passing up  pleasure.  So it cannot be to your benefit, or good. "
Book 8 ,11," What is this, fundamentally? What is its nature and  substance, its reason for being? What is it doing in the  world? How long is it here for? "
Book 8 ,12," When you have trouble getting out of bed in the morning,  remember that your defining characteristic—what defines a  human being—is to work with others. Even animals know  how to sleep. And it’s the characteristic activity that’s the  more natural one—more innate and more satisfying. "
Book 8 ,13," Apply them constantly, to everything that happens:  Physics. Ethics. Logic. "
Book 8 ,14," When you have to deal with someone, ask yourself: What  does he mean by good and bad? If he thinks x or y about  pleasure and pain (and what produces them), about fame and  disgrace, about death and life, then it shouldn’t shock or  surprise you when he does x or y.  In fact. I’ll remind myself that he has no real choice. "
Book 8 ,15," Remember: you shouldn’t be surprised that a fig tree  produces figs, nor the world what it produces. A good doctor  isn’t surprised when his patients have fevers, or a helmsman  when the wind blows against him. "
Book 8 ,16," Remember that to change your mind and to accept  correction are free acts too. The action is yours, based on  your own will, your own decision—and your own mind. "
Book 8 ,17," If it’s in your control, why do you do it? If it’s in  someone else’s, then who are you blaming? Atoms? The  gods? Stupid either way.  Blame no one. Set people straight, if you can. If not, just  repair the damage. And suppose you can’t do that either.  Then where does blaming people get you?  No pointless actions. "
Book 8 ,18," What dies doesn’t vanish. It stays here in the world,  transformed, dissolved, as parts of the world, and of you.  Which are transformed in turn—without grumbling. "
Book 8 ,19," Everything is here for a purpose, from horses to vine  shoots. What’s surprising about that? Even the sun will tell  you, “1 have a purpose,” and the other gods as well. And why  were you born? For pleasure? See if that answer will stand  up to questioning. "
Book 8 ,20," Nature is like someone throwing a ball in the air, gauging  its rise and arc—and where it will fall. And what does the  ball gain as it flies upward? Or lose when it plummets to  earth?  What does the bubble gain from its existence? Or lose by  bursting?  And the same for a candle. "
Book 8 ,21," Turn it inside out: What is it like? What is it like old? Or  sick? Or selling itself on the streets?  They all die soon—praiser and praised, rememberer and  remembered. Remembered in these parts or in a corner of  them Even there they don’t all agree with each other (or  even with themselves).  And the whole earth a mere point in space. "
Book 8 ,22," Stick to what’s in front of you—idea, action, utterance. "
Book 8 ,22a,. This is what you deserve. You could be good today. But  instead you choose tomorrow. 
Book 8 ,23," What I do? 1 attribute it to human beneficence.  What is done to me? I accept it—and attribute it to the  gods, and that source from which all things together flow. "
Book 8 ,24," Like the baths—oil, sweat, dirt, grayish water, all of it  disgusting.  The whole of life, all of the visible world. "
Book 8 ,25," Veras, leaving Lucilla behind, then Lucilla. Maximus,  leaving Secunda. And Secunda. Diotimus, leaving  Epitynchanus. Then Epitynchanus. Faustina, leaving  Antoninus. Then Antoninus.  So with all of them  Hadrian, leaving Celer. And Celer.  Where have they gone, the brilliant, the insightful ones, the  proud? Brilliant as Charax and Demetrius the Platonist and  Eudaemon and the rest of them. Short-lived creatures, long  dead. Some of them not remembered at all, some become  legends, some lost even to legend.  So remember: your components will be scattered too, the  life within you quenched. Or marching orders and another  posting. "
Book 8 ,26," Joy for humans lies in human actions.  Human actions: kindness to others, contempt for the  senses, the interrogation of appearances, observation of  nature and of events in nature. "
Book 8 ,27," Three relationships:  i. with the body you inhabit;  ii. with the divine, the cause of everything in all things;  iii. with the people around you. "
Book 8 ,28," Either pain affects the body (which is the body’s  problem) or it affects the soul. But the soul can choose not to  be affected, preserving its own serenity, its own tranquillity.  All our decisions, urges, desires, aversions lie within. No  evil can touch them. "
Book 8 ,29," To erase false perceptions, tell yourself: 1 have it in me  to keep my soul from evil, lust and all confusion. To see  things as they are and treat them as they deserve. Don’t  overlook this innate ability. "
Book 8 ,30," To speak to the Senate—or anyone—in the right tone,  without being overbearing. To choose the right words. "
Book 8 ,31," Augustus’s court: his wife, his daughter, his grandsons,  his stepsons, his sister, Agrippa, the relatives, servants,  friends, Areius, Maecenas, the doctors, the sacrificial priests  ... the whole court, dead.  And consider the others . . . not just the deaths of  individuals (like the family of the Pompeys).  That line they write on tombs—“last surviving  descendant.” Consider their ancestors’ anxiety—that there be  a successor. But someone has to be the last. There, too, the  death of a whole house. "
Book 8 ,32," You have to assemble your life yourself—action by  action. And be satisfied if each one achieves its goal, as far  as it can. No one can keep that from happening.  —But there are external obstacles. .. .  Not to behaving with justice, self-control, and good sense.  —Well, but perhaps to some more concrete action.  But if you accept the obstacle and work with what you’re  given, an alternative will present itself—another piece of  what you’re trying to assemble. Action by action. "
Book 8 ,33," To accept it without arrogance, to let it go with  indifference. "
Book 8 ,34," Have you ever seen a severed hand or foot, or a  decapitated head, just lying somewhere far away from the  body it belonged to ... ? That’s what we do to ourselves—  or try to—when we rebel against what happens to us, when  we segregate ourselves. Or when we do something selfish.  You have torn yourself away from unity—your natural  state, one you were born to share in. Now you’ve cut  yourself off from it.  But you have one advantage here: you can reattach  yourself. A privilege God has granted to no other part of no  other whole—to be separated, cut away, and reunited. But  look how he’s singled us out. He’s allowed us not to be  broken off in the first place, and when we are he’s allowed  us to return, to graft ourselves back on, and take up our old  position once agsin: part of a whole. "
Book 8 ,35," We have various abilities, present in all rational  creatures as in the nature of rationality itself. And this is one  of them. Just as nature takes every obstacle, every  impediment, and works around it—turns it to its purposes,  incorporates it into itself—so, too, a rational being can turn  each setback into raw material and use it to achieve its goal. "
Book 8 ,36," Don’t let your imagination be crushed by life as a whole.  Don’t try to picture everything bad that could possibly  happen. Stick with the situation at hand, and ask, “Why is this  so unbearable? Why can’t I endure it?” You’ll be  embarrassed to answer.  Then remind yourself that past and future have no power  over you. Only the present—and even that can be minimized.  Just mark off its limits. And if your mind tries to claim that it  can’t hold out against that. . . well, thea heap shame upon it. "
Book 8 ,37," Are Pantheia or Pergamos still keeping watch at the tomb  of Veras? Chabrias or Diotimus at the tomb of Hadrian? Of  course they aren’t. Would the emperors know it if they were?  And even if they knew, would it please them?  And even if it did, would the mourners live forever? Were  they, too, not fated to grow old and then die? And when that  happened, what would the emperors do? "
Book 8 ,38, The stench of decay. Rotting meat in a bag.  Look at it clearly. If you can. 
Book 8 ,39," “To the best of my judgment, when I look at the human  character I see no virtue placed there to counter justice. But 1  see one to counter pleasure: self-control.” "
Book 8 ,40," Stop perceiving the pain you imagine and you’ll remain  completely unaffected.  —“You?”  Your logos.  —But I’mnot just logos.  Fine. Just don’t let the logos be injured. If anything else is,  let it decide that for itself. "
Book 8 ,41," For animate beings, “harmful” is whatever obstructs the  operation of their senses—or the fulfillment of what they  intend. Similar obstructions constitute harm to plants. So too  for rational creatures, anything that obstructs the operation of  the mind is harmful.  Apply this to yourself.  Do pain and pleasure have their hooks in you? Let the  senses deal with it. Are there obstacles to your action? If you  failed to reckon with the possibility, then that would harm  you, as a rational being. But if you use common sense, you  haven’t been harmed or even obstructed. No one can obstruct  the operations of the mind. Nothing can get at them—not fire  or steel, not tyrants, not abuse—nothing. As long as it’s “a  sphere . . . in perfect stillness.” "
Book 8 ,42,1 have no right to do myself an injury. Have I ever injured  anyone else iff could avoid it? 
Book 8 ,43, People find pleasure in different ways. I find it in  keeping my mind clear. In not turning away from people or  the things that happen to them. In accepting and welcoming  everything I see. In treating each thing as it deserves. 
Book 8 ,44," Give yourself a gift: the present moment.  People out for posthumous fame forget that the Generations  To Come will be the same annoying people they know now.  And just as mortal. What does it matter to you if they say*  about you, or think y] "
Book 8 ,45," Lift me up and hurl me. Wherever you will. My spirit  will be gracious to me there—gracious and satisfied—as  long as its existence and actions match its nature.  Is there any reason why my soul should suffer and be  degraded—miserable, tense, huddled, frightened? How  could there be? "
Book 8 ,46," What humans experience is part of human experience.  The experience of the ox is part of the experience of oxen, as  the vine’s is of the vine, and the stone’s what is proper to  stones.  Nothing that can happen is unusual or unnatural, and  there’s no sense in complaining. Nature does not make us  endure the unendurable. "
Book 8 ,47," External things are not the problem. It’s your assessment  of them. Which you can erase right now.  If the problem is something in your own character, who’s  stopping you from setting your mind straight?  And if it’s that you’re not doing something you think you  should be, why not just do it?  —But there are insuperable obstacles.  Then it’s not a problem. The cause of your inaction lies  outside you.  —But how can I go on living with that undone?  Then depart, with a good conscience, as if you’d done it,  embracing the obstacles too. "
Book 8 ,48," Remember that when it withdraws into itself and finds  contentment there, the mind is invulnerable. It does nothing  against its will, even if its resistance is irrational. And if its  judgment is deliberate and grounded in logic . . . ?  The mind without passions is a fortress. No place is more  secure. Once we take refuge there we are safe forever. Not to  see this is ignorance. To see it and not seek safety means  misery. "
Book 8 ,49," Nothing but what you get from first impressions. That  someone has insulted you, for instance. That—but not that it’s  done you any harm The fact that my son is sick—that I can  see. But “that he might die of it,” no. Stick with first  impressions. Don’t extrapolate. And nothing can happen to  you.  Or extrapolate. From a knowledge of all that can happen in  the world. "
Book 8 ,50," The cucumber is bitter? Then throw it out.  There are brambles in the path? Then go around them.  That’s all you need to know. Nothing more. Don’t demand  to know “why such things exist.” Anyone who understands  the world will laugh at you, just as a carpenter would if you  seemed shocked at finding sawdust in his workshop, or a  shoemaker at scraps of leather left over from work.  Of course, they have a place to dispose of these; nature has  no door to sweep things out of. But the wonderful thing about  its workmanship is how, faced with that limitation, it takes  everything within it that seems broken, old and useless,  transforms it into itself, and makes new things from it. So that  it doesn’t need material from any outside source, or  anywhere to dispose of what’s left over. It relies on itself for  all it needs: space, material, and labor. "
Book 8 ,51," No carelessness in your actions. No confusion in your  words. No imprecision in your thoughts. No retreating into  your own soul, or trying to escape it. No overactivity.  They kill you, cut you with knives, shower you with  curses. And that somehow cuts your mind off from clearness,  and sanity, and self-control, and justice?  A man standing by a spring of clear, sweet water and  cursing it. While the fresh water keeps on bubbling up. He  can shovel mud into it, or dung, and the stream will carry it  away, wash itself clean, remain unstained.  To have that. Not a cistern but a perpetual spring.  How? By working to win your freedom. Horn' by hour.  Through patience, honesty, humility. "
Book 8 ,52," Not to know what the world is is to be ignorant of where  you are.  Not to know why it’s here is to be ignorant of who you  are. And what it is.  Not to know any of this is to be ignorant of why you’re  here.  And what are we to make of anyone who cares about the  applause of such people, who don’t know where or who they  are? "
Book 8 ,53," You want praise from people who kick themselves every  fifteen minutes, the approval of people who despise  themselves. (Is it a sign of self-respect to regret nearly  everything you do?) "
Book 8 ,54," To join ourselves not just to the air surrounding us,  through breath, but to the reason that embraces all things,  through thought. Reason is just as omnipresent, just as widely  diffused in those who accept it as air is in those who breathe. "
Book 8 ,55, The existence of evil does not harm the world. And an  individual act of evil does not harm the victim Only one  person is harmed by it—and he can stop being harmed as  soon as he decides to. 
Book 8 ,56," Other people’s wills are as independent of mine as their  breath and bodies. We may exist for the sake of one another,  but our will rules its own domain. Otherwise the harm they  do would cause harm to me. Which is not what God intended  —for my happiness to rest with someone else. "
Book 8 ,57," We speak of the sun’s light as ‘‘pouring down on us,” as  “pouring over us” in all directions. Yet it’s never poured out.  Because it doesn’t really pour; it extends. Its beams ( aktai )  get their name from their extension (ekteinesthai).  To see the nature of a sunbeam, look at light as it falls  through a narrow opening into a dark room It extends in a  straight line, striking any solid object that stands in its way  and blocks the space beyond it. There it remains—not  vanishing, or falling away.  That’s what the outpouring—the diffusion—of thought  should be like: not emptied out, but extended. And not  striking at obstacles with fury and violence, or falling away  before them, but holding its ground and illuminating what  receives it.  What doesn’t transmit light creates its own darkness. "
Book 8 ,58," Fear of death is fear of what we may experience. Nothing  at all, or something quite new. But if we experience nothing,  we can experience nothing bad. And if our experience  changes, then our existence will change with it—change, but  not cease. "
Book 8 ,59, People exist for one another. You can instruct or endure  them. 
Book 8 ,60," An arrow has one motion and the mind another. Even  when pausing, even when weighing conclusions, the mind is  moving forward, toward its goal. "
Book 8 ,61, To enter others’ minds and let them enter yours. 
Book 9 ,1,"Injustice is a kind ofblasphemy. Nature designed rational  beings for each other’s sake: to help—not harm—one  another, as they deserve. To transgress its will, then, is to  blaspheme against the oldest of the gods.  And to lie is to blaspheme against it too. Because “nature”  means the nature of that which is. And that which is and that  which is the case are closely linked, so that nature is  synonymous with Truth—the source of all true things. To lie  deliberately is to blaspheme—the liar commits deceit, and  thus injustice. And likewise to lie without realizing it.  Because the involuntary liar disrupts the harmony of nature—  its order. He is in conflict with the way the world is  structured. As anyone is who deviates toward what is  opposed to the truth—even against his will. Nature gave him  the resources to distinguish between true and false. And he  neglected them, and now can’t tell the difference.  And to pursue pleasure as good, and flee from pain as evil  —that too is blasphemous. Someone who does that is bound  to find himself constantly reproaching nature—complaining  that it doesn’t treat the good and bad as they deserve, but  often lets the bad enjoy pleasure and the things that produce  it, and makes the good suffer pain, and the things that produce  pain. And moreover, to fear pain is to fear something that’s  bound to happen, the world being what it is—and that again  is blasphemy. While if you pursue pleasure, you can hardly  avoid wrongdoing—which is manifestly blasphemous.  Some things nature is indifferent to; if it privileged one  over the other it would hardly have created both. And if we  want to follow nature, to be of one mind with it, we need to  share its indifference. To privilege pleasure over pain—life  over death, fame over anonymity—is clearly blasphemous.  Nature certainly doesn’t.  And when I say that nature is indifferent to them, I mean  that they happen indifferently, at different times, to the things  that exist and the things that come into being after them,  through some ancient decree of Providence—the decree by  which from some initial starting point it embarked on the  creation that we know, by laying down the principles of what  was to come and determining the generative forces: existence  and change, and their successive stages. "
Book 9 ,2,"Real good luck would be to abandon life without ever  encountering dishonesty, or hypocrisy, or self-indulgence, or  pride. But the “next best voyage” is to die when you’ve had  enough. Or are you determined to lie down with evil? Hasn’t  experience even taught you that —to avoid it like the plague?  Because it is a plague—a mental cancer—worse than  anything caused by tainted air or an unhealthy climate.  Diseases like that can only threaten your life; this one attacks  your humanity. "
Book 9 ,3,"Don’t look down on death, but welcome it. It too is one of  the things required by nature. Like youth and old age. Like  growth and maturity. Like a new set of teeth, a beard, the first  gray hair. Like sex and pregnancy and childbirth. Like all the  other physical changes at each stage of life, our dissolution is  no different.  So this is how a thoughtful person should await death: not  with indifference, not with impatience, not with disdain, but  simply viewing it as one of the things that happen to us. Now  you anticipate the child’s emergence from its mother’s  womb; that’s how you should await the hour when your soul  will emerge from its compartment.  Or perhaps you need some tidy aphorism to tuck away in  the back of your mind. Well, consider two things that should  reconcile you to death: the nature of the things you’ll leave  behind you, and the kind of people you’ll no longer be mixed  up with. There’s no need to feel resentment toward them—in  fact, you should look out for their well-being, and be gentle  with them—but keep in mind that everything you believe is  meaningless to those you leave behind. Because that’s all that  could restrain us (if anything could)—the only thing that  could make us want to stay here: the chance to live with  those who share our vision. But now? Look how tiring it is—  this cacophony we live in. Enough to make you say to death,  “Come quickly. Before I start to forget myself, like them” "
Book 9 ,4,To do harm is to do yourself harm. To do an injustice is to  do yourself an injustice—it degrades you. 
Book 9 ,5,And you can also commit injustice by doing nothing. 
Book 9 ,6,"Objective judgment, now, at this very moment.  Unselfish action, now, at this very moment.  Willing acceptance—now, at this very moment—of all  external events.  That’s all you need. "
Book 9 ,7,Blot out your imagination. Turn your desire to stone.  Quench your appetites. Keep your mind centered on itself. 
Book 9 ,8,"Animals without the logos are assigned the same soul, and  those who have the logos share one too—a rational one. Just  as all earthly creatures share one earth. Just as we all see by  the same light, and breathe the same air—all of us who see  and breathe. "
Book 9 ,9,"All things are drawn toward what is like them, if such a  thing exists. All earthly things feel the earth’s tug. All wet  things flow together. And airy things as well, so they have to  be forcibly prevented from mixing. Fire is naturally drawn  upward by that higher fire, but ready to ignite at the slightest  touch of other, earthly flame. So that anything drier than usual  makes good fuel, because less of what hinders combustion is  mixed in with it.  And things that share an intelligent nature are just as prone  to seek out what is like them. If not more so. Because their  superiority in other ways is matched by their greater  readiness to mix and mingle with their counterparts.  Even in irrational beings we see swarms and herds, and  nesting, and love not unlike ours. Because they do have  souls, and the bonding instinct is found in a developed form  —not something we see in plants, or stones, or trees. And  it’s still more developed in rational beings, with their states,  friendships, families, groups, their treaties and truces. And in  those yet more developed there is a kind of unity even  between separate things, the kind that we see in the stars. An  advanced level of development can produce a sympathy even  in things that are quite distinct.  But look how things are now. The rational things are the  only ones that have lost that sense of attraction—of  convergence. Only there do we not see that intermingling. But  however much they try to avoid it, there’s no escaping.  Nature is stronger. As you can see if you look closely.  Concrete objects can pull free of the earth more easily than  humans can escape humanity. "
Book 9 ,10," Humanity, divinity, and the world: all of them bearing  fruit. Each fruitful in its season. Normally we limit the word  to vines and other plants. Unnecessarily. The fruit of the  logos nourishes both us and it. And other things spring from  it too—of the same species as the logos itself. "
Book 9 ,11," Convince them not to.  If you can.  And if not, remember: the capacity for patience was given  us for a reason. The gods are patient with them too, and even  help them to concrete things: health, money, fame. . . . Such is  the gods’ goodness.  And yours, too, if you wanted. What’s stopping you? "
Book 9 ,12," Work:  Not to rouse pity, not to win sympathy or admiration. Only  this:  Activity.  Stillness.  As the logos of the state requires. "
Book 9 ,13," Today I escaped from anxiety. Or no, I discarded it,  because it was within me, in my own perceptions—not  outside. "
Book 9 ,14," Known by long experience, limited in life span, debased  in substance—all of it.  Now as thea in the time of those we buried. "
Book 9 ,15," Things wait outside us, hover at the door. They keep to  themselves. Ask them who they are and they don’t know, they  can give no account of themselves.  What accounts for them?  The mind does. "
Book 9 ,16," Not being done to, but doing—the source of good and  bad for rational and political beings. Where their own  goodness and badness is found—not in being done to, but in  doing. "
Book 9 ,17," A rock thrown in the air. It loses nothing by coming  down, gained nothing by going up. "
Book 9 ,18," Enter their minds, and you’ll find the judges you’re so  afraid of—and how judiciously they judge themselves. "
Book 9 ,19," Everything in flux. And you too will alter in the whirl and  perish, and the world as well. "
Book 9 ,20, Leave other people’s mistakes where they lie. 
Book 9 ,21," When we cease from activity, or follow a thought to its  conclusion, it’s a kind of death. And it doesn’t harm us.  Think about your life: childhood, boyhood, youth, old age.  Every transformation a kind of dying. Was that so terrible?  Think about life with your grandfather, your mother, your  adopted father. Realize how many other deaths and  transformations and endings there have been and ask  yourself: Was that so terrible?  Then neither will the close of your life be—its ending and  transformation. "
Book 9 ,22," Go straight to the seat of intelligence—your own, the  world’s, your neighbor’s.  Your own—to ground it injustice.  The world’s—to remind yourself what it is that you’re  part of.  Your neighbor’s—to distinguish ignorance from  calculation. And recognize it as like yours. "
Book 9 ,23," You participate in a society by your existence. Then  participate in its life through your actions—all your actions.  Any action not directed toward a social end (directly or  indirectly) is a disturbance to your life, an obstacle to  wholeness, a source of dissension. Like the man in the  Assembly—a faction to himself, always out of step with the  majority. "
Book 9 ,24," Childish tantrums, children’s games, “spirits carrying  corpses”; “Odysseus in the Underworld” saw more real life. "
Book 9 ,25, Identify its purpose—what makes it what it is—and  examine that. (Ignore its concrete form) Then calculate the  length of time that such a thing was meant to last. 
Book 9 ,26, Endless suffering—all from not allowing the mind to do  its job. Enough. 
Book 9 ,27," When you face someone’s insults, hatred, whatever . . .  look at his soul. Get inside him. Look at what sort of person  he is. You’ll find you don’t need to strain to impress him  But you do have to wish him well. He’s your closest  relative. The gods assist him just as they do you—by signs  and dreams and every other way—to get the things he wants. "
Book 9 ,28," The world’s cycles never change—up and down, from  age to age.  Either the world’s intelligence wills each thing (if so,  accept its will), or it exercised that will once—once and for  all—and all else follows as a consequence (and if so, why  worry?).  One way or another: atoms or unity. If it’s God, all is  well. If it’s arbitrary, don’t imitate it.  The earth will cover us all, and then be transformed in  turn, and that too will change, ad infinitum And that as well,  ad infinitum  Think about them: the waves of change and alteration,  endlessly breaking. And see our brief mortality for what it is. "
Book 9 ,29," The design of the world is like a flood, sweeping all  before it. The foolishness of them—little men busy with  affairs of state, with philosophy—or what they think of as  philosophy. Nothing but phlegm and mucus.  —Well, then what?  Do what nature demands. Get a move on—if you have it in  you—and don’t worry whether anyone will give you credit  for it. And don’t go expecting Plato’s Republic; be satisfied  with even the smallest progress, and treat the outcome of it  all as unimportant.  Who can change their minds? And without that change,  what is there but groaning, slavery, a pretense of obedience?  Go on and cite Alexander, Philip, Demetrius of Phalerum.  Whether they knew nature’s will and made themselves its  student is for them to say. And if they preferred to play the  king? Well, no one forced me to be their understudy.  The task of philosophy is modest and straightforward.  Don’t tempt me to presumption. "
Book 9 ,30," To see them from above: the thousands of animal herds,  the rituals, the voyages on calm or stormy seas, the different  ways we come into the world, share it with one another, and  leave it. Consider the lives led once by others, long ago, the  lives to be led by others after you, the lives led even now, in  foreign lands. How many people don’t even know your name.  How many will soon have forgotten it. How many offer you  praise now—and tomorrow, perhaps, contempt.  That to be remembered is worthless. Like fame. Like  everything. "
Book 9 ,31, Indifference to external events.  And a commitment to justice in your own acts.  Which means: thought and action resulting in the common  good.  What you were born to do. 
Book 9 ,32, You can discard most of the junk that clutters your mind  —things that exist only there—and clear out space for  yourself:  . . . by comprehending the scale of the world  ... by contemplating infinite time  ... by thinking of the speed with which things change—  each part of every thing; the narrow space between  our birth and death; the infinite time before; the  equally unbounded time that follows. 
Book 9 ,33," All that you see will soon have vanished, and those who  see it vanish will vanish themselves, and the ones who  reached old age have no advantage over the untimely dead. "
Book 9 ,34, What their minds are like. What they work at. What  evokes their love and admiration.  Imagine their souls stripped bare. And their vanity. To  suppose that their disdain could harm anyone—or their  praise help them. 
Book 9 ,35," To decompose is to be recomposed.  That’s what nature does. Nature—through whom all things  happen as they should, and have happened forever in just the  same way, and will continue to, one way or another,  endlessly.  That things happen for the worst and always will, that the  gods have no power to regulate them, and the world is  condemned to never-ending evil—how can you say that? "
Book 9 ,36," Disgust at what things are made of: Liquid, dust, bones,  filth. Or marble as hardened dirt, gold and silver as residues,  clothes as hair, purple dye as shellfish blood. And all the  rest.  And the same with our living breath—transformed from  one thing to another. "
Book 9 ,37," Enough of this wretched, whining monkey life.  What’s the matter? Is any of this new? What is it you find  surprising?  The purpose? Look at it.  The material? Look at that.  That’s all there is.  And the gods? Well, you could try being simpler, gentler.  Even now.  A hundred years or three.... No difference. "
Book 9 ,38," If they’ve injured you, then they’re the ones who suffer  for it.  But have they? "
Book 9 ,39," Either all things spring from one intelligent source and  form a single body (and the part should accept the actions of  the whole) or there are only atoms, joining and splitting  forever, and nothing else.  So why feel anxiety?  Say to your mind: Are you dead? damaged? brutal?  dishonest?  Are you one of the herd? or grazing like one? "
Book 9 ,40," Either the gods have power or they don’t. If they don’t,  why pray? If they do, then why not pray for something else  instead of for things to happen or not to happen? Pray not to  feel fear. Or desire, or grief. If the gods can do anything, they  can surely do that for us.  —But those are things the gods left up to me.  Then isn’t it better to do what’s up to you—like a free man  —than to be passively controlled by what isn’t, like a slave  or beggar? And what makes you think the gods don’t care  about what’s up to us?  Start praying like this and you’ll see.  Not “some way to sleep with her”—but a way to stop  wanting to.  Not “some way to get rid of him”—but a way to stop  trying.  Not “some way to save my child”—but a way to lose your  fear.  Redirect your prayers like that, and watch what happens. "
Book 9 ,41," Epicurus: “During my illness, my conversations were not  about my physical state; I did not waste my visitors’ time  with things of that sort, but went on discussing philosophy,  and concentrated on one point in particular: how the mind  can participate in the sensations of the body and yet maintain  its serenity, and focus on its own well-being. Nor did I let  my doctors strut about like grandees. I went on living my life  the way it should be lived.”  Like that. In illness—or any other situation.  Not to let go of philosophy, no matter what happens; not to  bandy words with crackpots and philistines—good rules for  any philosopher.  Concentrate on what you’re doing, and what you’re doing  it with. "
Book 9 ,42," When you run up against someone else’s shamelessness,  ask yourself this: Is a world without shamelessness possible?  No.  Then don’t ask the impossible. There have to be shameless  people in the world. This is one of them.  The same for someone vicious or untrustworthy, or with  any other defect. Remembering that the whole class has to  exist will make you more tolerant of its members.  Another useful point to bear in mind: What qualities has  nature given us to counter that defect? As an antidote to  unkindness it gave us kindness. And other qualities to  balance other flaws.  And when others stray off course, you can always try to set  them straight, because every wrongdoer is doing something  wrong—doing something the wrong way.  And how does it injure you anyway? You’ll find that none  of the people you’re upset about has done anything that could  do damage to your mind. But that’s all that “harm” or  “injury” could mean. Yes, boorish people do boorish things.  What’s strange or unheard-of about that? Isn’t it yourself you  should reproach—for not anticipating that they’d act this  way? The logos gave you the means to see it—that a given  person would act a given way—but you paid no attention.  And now you’re astonished that he’s gone and done it. So  when you call someone “untrustworthy” or “ungrateful,” turn  the reproach on yourself. It was you who did wrong. By  assuming that someone with those traits deserved your trust.  Or by doing them a favor and expecting something in return,  instead of looking to the action itself for your reward. What  else did you expect from helping someone out? Isn’t it  enough that you’ve done what your nature demands? You  want a salary for it too? As if your eyes expected a reward  for seeing, or your feet for walking. That’s what they were  made for. By doing what they were designed to do, they’re  performing their function. Whereas humans were made to  help others. And when we do help others—or help them to  do something—we’re doing what we were designed for. We  perform our function. "
Book 10 ,1,"To my soul:  Are you ever going to achieve goodness? Ever going to be  simple, whole, and naked—as plain to see as the body that  contains you? Know what an affectionate and loving  disposition would feel like? Ever be fulfilled, ever stop  desiring—lusting and longing for people and things to enjoy?  Or for more time to enjoy them? Or for some other place or  country—“a more temperate clime”? Or for people easier to  get along with? And instead be satisfied with what you have,  and accept the present—all of it. And convince yourself that  everything is the gift of the gods, that things are good and  always will be, whatever they decide and have in store for  the preservation of that perfect entity—good and just and  beautiful, creating all things, connecting and embracing them,  and gathering in their separated fragments to create more like  them  Will you ever take your stand as a fellow citizen with gods  and human beings, blaming no one, deserving no one’s  censure? "
Book 10 ,2,"Focus on what nature demands, as if you were governed  by that alone. Then do that, and accept it, unless your nature  as a living being would be degraded by it.  Then focus on what that nature demands, and accept that  too—unless your nature as a rational being would be  degraded by it.  And, of course, “rational” also implies “civic.”  Follow these guidelines and don’t waste time on anything  else. "
Book 10 ,3,"Everything that happens is either endurable or not.  If it’s endurable, then endure it. Stop complaining.  If it’s unendurable . . . then stop complaining. Your  destruction will mean its end as well.  Just remember: you can endure anything your mind can  make endurable, by treating it as in your interest to do so.  In your interest, or in your nature. "
Book 10 ,4,"If they’ve made a mistake, correct them gently and show  them where they went wrong. If you can’t do that, then the  blame lies with you. Or no one. "
Book 10 ,5,Whatever happens to you has been waiting to happen since  the beginning of time. The twining strands of fate wove both  of them together: your own existence and the things that  happen to you. 
Book 10 ,6,"Whether it’s atoms or nature, the first thing to be said is  this: I am a part of a world controlled by nature. Secondly:  that 1 have a relationship with other, similar parts. And with  that in mind I have no right, as a part, to complain about what  is assigned me by the whole. Because what benefits the  whole can’t harm the parts, and the whole does nothing that  doesn’t benefit it. That’s a trait shared by all natures, but the  nature of the world is defined by a second characteristic as  well: no outside force can compel it to cause itself harm  So by keeping in mind the whole I form a part of. I’ll  accept whatever happens. And because of my relationship to  other parts, I will do nothing selfish, but aim instead to join  them, to direct my every action toward what benefits us all  and to avoid what doesn’t. If 1 do all that, then my life should  go smoothly. As you might expect a citizen’s life to go—one  whose actions serve his fellow citizens, and who embraces  the community’s decree. "
Book 10 ,7,"The whole is compounded by nature of individual parts,  whose destruction is inevitable (“destruction” here meaning  transformation). If the process is harmful to the parts and  unavoidable, then it’s hard to see how the whole can run  smoothly, with parts of it passing from one state to another,  all of them built only to be destroyed in different ways. Does  nature set out to cause its own components harm, and make  them vulnerable to it—indeed, predestined to it? Or is it  oblivious to what goes on? Neither one seems very  plausible.  But suppose we throw out “nature” and explain these  things through inherent properties. It would still be absurd to  say that the individual things in the world are inherently  prone to change, and at the same time be astonished at it or  complain—on the grounds that it was happening “contrary to  nature.” And least of all when things return to the state from  which they came. Because our elements are either simply  dispersed, or are subject to a kind of gravitation—the solid  portions being pulled toward earth, and what is ethereal  drawn into the air, until they’re absorbed into the universal  logos —which is subject to periodic conflagrations, or  renewed through continual change.  And don’t imagine either that those elements—the solid  ones and the ethereal—are with us from our birth. Their  influx took place yesterday, or the day before—from the food  we ate, the air we breathed.  And that’s what changes—not the person your mother gave  birth to.  —But if you’re inextricably linked to it through your sense  of individuality?  That’s not what we’re talking about here. "
Book 10 ,8,"Epithets for yourself: Upright. Modest. Straightforward.  Sane. Cooperative. Disinterested.  Try not to exchange them for others.  And if you should forfeit them, set about getting them back.  Keep in mind that “sanity” means understanding things—  each individual thing—for what they are. And not losing the  thread.  And “cooperation” means accepting what nature assigns  you—accepting it willingly.  And “disinterest” means that the intelligence should rise  above the movements of the flesh—the rough and the smooth  alike. Should rise above fame, above death, and everything  like them  If you maintain your claim to these epithets—without  caring if others apply them to you or not—you’ll become a  new person, living a new life. To keep on being the person  that you’ve been—to keep being mauled and degraded by the  life you’re living—is to be devoid of sense and much too  fond of life. Like those animal fighters at the games—torn  half to pieces, covered in blood and gore, and still pleading  to be held over till tomorrow ... to be bitten and clawed  again.  Set sail, then, with this handful of epithets to guide you.  And steer a steady course, if you can. Like an emigrant to the  islands of the blest. And if you feel yourself adrift—as if  you’ve lost control—then hope for the best, and put in  somewhere where you can regain it. Or leave life altogether,  not in anger, but matter-of-factly, straightforwardly, without  arrogance, in the knowledge that you’ve at least done that  much with your life.  And as you try to keep these epithets in mind, it will help  you a great deal to keep the gods in mind as well. What they  want is not flattery, but for rational things to be like them.  For figs to do what figs were meant to do—and dogs, and  bees . . . and people. "
Book 10 ,9,"Operatics, combat and confusion. Sloth and servility.  Every day they blot out those sacred principles of yours—  which you daydream thoughtlessly about, or just let slide.  Your actions and perceptions need to aim:  • at accomplishing practical ends  • at the exercise of thought  • at maintaining a confidence founded on understanding.  An unobtrusive confidence—hidden in plain sight.  When will you let yourself enjoy straightforwardness?  Seriousness? Or understanding individual things—their  nature and substance, their place in the world, their life span,  their composition, who can possess them, whose they are to  give and to receive? "
Book 10 ,10," Spiders are proud of catching flies, men of catching  hares, fish in a net, boars, bears, Sarmatians . . .  Criminal psychology. "
Book 10 ,11, How they all change into one another—acquire the  ability to see that. Apply it constantly; use it to train yourself.  Nothing is as conducive to spiritual growth. 
Book 10 ,11a,". He has stripped away his body and—realizing that at  some point soon he will have to abandon mankind and leave  all this behind—has dedicated himself to serving justice in  all he does, and nature in all that happens. What people say  or think about him, or how they treat him, isn’t something he  worries about. Only these two questions: Is what he’s doing  now the right thing to be doing? Does he accept and welcome  what he’s been assigned? He has stripped away all other  occupations, all other tasks. He wants only to travel a  straight path—to God, by way of law. "
Book 10 ,12," Why all this guesswork? You can see what needs to be  done. If you can see the road, follow it. Cheerfully, without  turning back. If not, hold up and get the best advice you can.  If anything gets in the way, forge on ahead, making good use  of what you have on hand, sticking to what seems right. (The  best goal to achieve, and the one we fall short of when we  fail.) "
Book 10 ,12a,". To follow the logos in all things is to be relaxed and  energetic, joyful and serious at once. "
Book 10 ,13," When you wake up, ask yourself:  Does it make any difference to you if other people blame  you for doing what’s right?  It makes no difference.  Have you forgotten what the people who are so vociferous  in praise or blame of others are like as they sleep and eat?  Forgotten their behavior, their fears, their desires, their thefts  and depredations—not physical ones, but those committed by  what should be highest in them? What creates, when it  chooses, loyalty, humility, truth, order, well-being. "
Book 10 ,14," Nature gives and nature takes away. Anyone with sense  and humility will tell her, “Give and take as you please,” not  out of defiance, but out of obedience and goodwill. "
Book 10 ,15," Only a short time left. Live as if you were alone—out in  the wilderness. No difference between here and there: the  city that you live in is the world.  Let people see someone living naturally, and understand  what that means. Let them kill him if they can’t stand it.  (Better than living like this.) "
Book 10 ,16," To stop talking about what the good man is like, and just  be one. "
Book 10 ,17," Continual awareness of all time and space, of the size  and life span of the things around us. A grape seed in infinite  space. A half twist of a corkscrew against eternity. "
Book 10 ,18," Bear in mind that everything that exists is already fraying  at the edges, and in transition, subject to fragmentation and to  rot.  Or that everything was born to die. "
Book 10 ,19," How they act when they eat and sleep and mate and  defecate and all the rest. Then when they order and exult, or  rage and thunder from on high. And yet, just consider the  things they submitted to a moment ago, and the reasons for it  —and the things they’ll submit to again before very long. "
Book 10 ,20," Each of us needs what nature gives us, when nature gives  it. "
Book 10 ,21," “The earth knows longing for the rain, the sky/knows  longing . ..” And the world longs to create what will come to  be. I tell it “I share your longing.”  (And isn’t that what we mean by “inclined to happen”?) "
Book 10 ,22," Possibilities:  i. To keep on living (you should be used to it by now)  ii. To end it (it was your choice, after all)  iii. To die (having met your obligations)  Those are the only options. Reason for optimism. "
Book 10 ,23," Keep always before you that “this is no different from an  empty field,” and the things in it are the same as on a  mountaintop, on the seashore, wherever. Plato gets to the  heart of it: “fencing a sheepfold in the mountains, and milking  goats or sheep.” "
Book 10 ,24," My mind. What is it? What am I making of it? What am I  using it for?  Is it empty of thought?  Isolated and torn loose from those around it?  Melted into flesh and blended with it, so that it shares its  urges? "
Book 10 ,25," When a slave runs away from his master, we call him a  fugitive slave. But the law of nature is a master too, and to  break it is to become a fugitive.  To feel grief, anger or fear is to try to escape from  something decreed by the ruler of all things, now or in the  past or in the future. And that ruler is law, which governs  what happens to each of us. To feel grief or anger or fear is  to become a fugitive—a fugitive from justice. "
Book 10 ,26," He deposits his sperm and leaves. And then a force not  his takes it and goes to work, and creates a child.  This . . . from that?  Or:  He pours food down his throat. And then a force not his  takes it and creates sensations, desires, daily life, physical  strength and so much else besides.  To look at these things going on silently and see the force  that drives them As we see the force that pushes things and  pulls them Not with our eyes, but just as clearly. "
Book 10 ,27," To bear in mind constantly that all of this has happened  before. And will happen again—the same plot from  beginning to end, the identical staging. Produce them in your  mind, as you know them from experience or from history: the  court of Hadrian, of Antoninus. The courts of Philip,  Alexander, Croesus. All just the same. Only the people  different. "
Book 10 ,28," People who feel hurt and resentment: picture them as the  pig at the sacrifice, kicking and squealing all the way.  Like the man alone in his bed, silently weeping over the  chains that bind us.  That everything has to submit. But only rational beings can  do so voluntarily. "
Book 10 ,29, Stop whatever you’re doing for a moment and ask  yourself: Am I afraid of death because I won’t be able to do  this anymore? 
Book 10 ,30," When faced with people’s bad behavior, turn around and  ask when you have acted like that. When you saw money as a  good, or pleasure, or social position. Your anger will  subside as soon as you recognize that they acted under  compulsion (what else could they do?).  Or remove the compulsion, if you can. "
Book 10 ,31," When you look at Satyron, see Socraticus, or Eutyches,  or Hymen.  When you look at Euphrates, see Eutychion or Silvanus.  With Alciphroa see Tropaeophorus.  When you look at Xenophoa see Crito or Severus.  When you look at yourself, see any of the emperors.  And the same with everyone else. Then let it hit you:  Where are they now?  Nowhere ... or wherever.  That way you’ll see human life for what it is. Smoke.  Nothing. Especially when you recall that once things alter  they cease to exist through all the endless years to come.  Then why such turmoil? To live your brief life rightly,  isn’t that enough?  The raw material you’re missing, the opportunities . . . !  What is any of this but training—training for your logos, in  life observed accurately, scientifically.  So keep at it, until it’s fully digested. As a strong stomach  digests whatever it eats. As a blazing fire takes whatever you  throw on it, and makes it light and flame. "
Book 10 ,32," That no one can say truthfully that you are not a  straightforward or honest person. That anyone who thinks  that believes a falsehood. The responsibility is all yours; no  one can stop you from being honest or straightforward.  Simply resolve not to go on living if you aren’t, ft would be  contrary to the logos. "
Book 10 ,33," Given the material we’re made of, what’s the sanest thing  that we can do or say? Whatever it may be, you can do or say  it. Don’t pretend that anything’s stopping you.  You’ll never stop complaining until you feel the same  pleasure that the hedonist gets from self-indulgence—only  from doing what’s proper to human beings as far as  circumstances—inherent or fortuitous—allow. “Enjoyment”  means doing as much of what your nature requires as you  can. And you can do that anywhere. A privilege not granted  to a cylinder—to determine its own action. Or to water, or  fire, or any of the other things governed by nature alone, or  by an irrational soul. Too many things obstruct them and get  in their way. But the intellect and logos are able to make  their way through anything in their path—by inborn capacity  or sheer force of will. Keep before your eyes the ease with  which they do this—the ease with which the logos is carried  through all things, as fire is drawn upward or a stone falls to  earth, as a cylinder rolls down an inclined plane.  That’s all you need. All other obstacles either affect the  lifeless body, or have no power to shake or harm anything  unless misperception takes over or the logos surrenders  voluntarily. Otherwise those they obstruct would be  degraded by them immediately. In all other entities, when  anything bad happens to them, it affects them for the worse.  Whereas here a person is improved by it (if I can put it like  that)—and we admire him for reacting as a person should.  And keep in mind that nothing can harm one of nature’s  citizens except what harms the city he belongs to. And  nothing harms that city except what harms its law. And there  is no so-called misfortune that can do that. So long as the law  is safe, so is the city—and the citizen. "
Book 10 ,34," If you’ve immersed yourself in the principles of truth, the  briefest, most random reminder is enough to dispel all fear  and pain:  . . . leaves that the wind  Drives earthward; such are the generations of men.  Your children, leaves.  Leaves applauding loyally and heaping praise upon you, or  turning around and calling down curses, sneering and  mocking from a safe distance.  A glorious reputation handed down by leaves.  All of these “spring up in springtime”—and the wind  blows them all away. And the tree puts forth others to  replace them.  None of us have much time. And yet you act as if things  were eternal—the way you fear and long for them. . . .  Before long, darkness. And whoever buries you mourned  in their turn. "
Book 10 ,35," A healthy pair of eyes should see everything that can be  seen and not say, “No! Too bright!” (which is a symptom of  ophthalmia).  A healthy sense of hearing or smell should be prepared for  any sound or scent; a healthy stomach should have the same  reaction to all foods, as a mill to what it grinds.  So too a healthy mind should be prepared for anything.  The one that keeps saying, “Are my children all right?” or  “Everyone must approve of me” is like eyes that can only  stand pale colors, or teeth that can handle only mush. "
Book 10 ,36," It doesn’t matter how good a life you’ve led. There’ll  still be people standing around the bed who will welcome  the sad event.  Even with the intelligent and good. Won’t there be  someone thinking “Finally! To be through with that old  schoolteacher. Even though he never said anything, you could  always feel him judging you.” And that’s for a good man.  How many traits do you have that would make a lot of  people glad to be rid of you?  Remember that, when the time comes. You’ll be less  reluctant to leave if you can tell yourself, “This is the sort of  life I’m leaving. Even the people around me, the ones I spent  so much time fighting for, praying over, caring about—even  they want me gone, in hopes that it will make their own lives  easier. How could anyone stand a longer stay here?”  And yet, don’t leave angry with them. Be true to who you  are: caring, sympathetic, kind. And not as if you were being  torn away from life. But the way it is when someone dies  peacefully, how the soul is released from the body—that’s  how you should leave them. It was nature that bound you to  them—that tied the knot. And nature that now unties you.  I am released from those around me. Not dragged against  my will, but unresisting.  There are things that nature demands. And this is one of  them "
Book 10 ,37," Learn to ask of all actions, “Why are they doing that?”  Starting with your own. "
Book 10 ,38," Remember that what pulls the strings is within—hidden  from us. Is speech, is life, is the person. Don’t conceive of  the rest as part of it—the skin that contains it, and the  accompanying organs. Which are tools—like a carpenter’s  axe, except that they’re attached to us from birth, and are no  more use without what moves and holds them still than the  weaver’s shuttle, the writer’s pencil, the driver’s whip. "
Book 11 ,1,"Characteristics of the rational soul:  Self-perceptioa self-examination, and the power to make  of itself whatever it wants.  It reaps its own harvest, unlike plants (and, in a different  way, animals), whose yield is gathered in by others.  It reaches its intended goal, no matter where the limit of its  life is set. Not like dancing and theater and things like that,  where the performance is incomplete if it’s broken off in the  middle, but at any point—no matter which one you pick—it  has fulfilled its mission, done its work completely. So that it  can say, “1 have what I came for.”  It surveys the world and the empty space around it, and the  way it’s put together. It delves into the endlessness of time to  extend its grasp and comprehension of the periodic births and  rebirths that the world goes through. It knows that those who  come after us will see nothing different, that those who came  before us saw no more than we do, and that anyone with forty  years behind him and eyes in his head has seen both past and  future—both alike.  Also characteristic of the rational soul:  Affection for its neighbors. Truthfulness. Humility. Not to  place anything above itself—which is characteristic of law  as well. No difference here between the logos of rationality  and that of justice. "
Book 11 ,2,"To acquire indifference to pretty singing, to dancing, to the  martial arts: Analyze the melody into the notes that form it,  and as you hear each one, ask yourself whether you’re  powerless against that. That should be enough to deter you.  The same with dancing: individual movements and  tableaux. And the same with the martial arts.  And with everything—except virtue and what springs from  it. Look at the individual parts and move from analysis to  indifference.  Apply this to life as a whole. "
Book 11 ,3,"The resolute soul:  Resolute in separation from the body. And then in  dissolution or fragmentation—or continuity.  But the resolution has to be the result of its own decision,  not just in response to outside forces [like the Christians]. It  has to be considered and serious, persuasive to other people.  Without dramatics. "
Book 11 ,4,Have I done something for the common good? Then I share  in the benefits.  To stay centered on that. Not to give up. 
Book 11 ,5,"“And your profession?” “Goodness.” (And how is that to  be achieved, except by thought—about the world, about the  nature of people?) "
Book 11 ,6,"First, tragedies. To remind us of what can happen, and that  it happens inevitably—and if something gives you pleasure  on that stage, it shouldn’t cause you anger on this one. You  realize that these are things we all have to go through, and  that even those who cry aloud “o Mount Cithaeron!” have to  endure them. And some excellent lines as well. These, for  example:  If I and my two children cannot move the gods  The gods must have their reasons  Or:  And why should we feel anger at the world?  And:  To harvest life like standing stalks of grain  and a good many others.  Then, after tragedy, Old Comedy: instructive in its  frankness, its plain speaking designed to puncture  pretensions. (Diogenes used the same tactic for similar  ends.)  Then consider the Middle (and later the New) Comedy  and what it aimed at—gradually degenerating into mere  realism and empty technique. There are undeniably good  passages, even in those writers, but what was the point of it  all—the script and staging alike? "
Book 11 ,7,It stares you in the face. No role is so well suited to  philosophy as the one you happen to be in right now. 
Book 11 ,8,"A branch cut away from the branch beside it is  simultaneously cut away from the whole tree. So too a human  being separated from another is cut loose from the whole  community.  The branch is cut off by someone else. But people cut  themselves off—through hatred, through rejection—and don’t  realize that they’re cutting themselves off from the whole  civic enterprise.  Except that we also have a gift, given us by Zeus, who  foimded this community of ours. We can reattach ourselves  and become once more components of the whole.  But if the rupture is too often repeated, it makes the  severed part hard to reconnect, and to restore. You can see  the difference between the branch that’s been there since the  beginning, remaining on the tree and growing with it, and the  one that’s been cut off and grafted back  “One trunk, two minds.” As the gardeners put it. "
Book 11 ,9,"As you move forward in the logos, people will stand in  your way. They can’t keep you from doing what’s healthy;  don’t let them stop you from putting up with them either. Take  care on both counts. Not just sound judgments, solid actions  —tolerance as well, for those who try to obstruct us or give  us trouble in other ways.  Because anger, too, is weakness, as much as breaking  down and giving up the struggle. Both are deserters: the man  who breaks and runs, and the one who lets himself be  alienated from his fellow humans. "
Book 11 ,10," The natural can never be inferior to the artificial; art  imitates nature, not the reverse. In which case, that most  highly developed and comprehensive nature—Nature itself—  cannot fall short of artifice in its craftsmanship.  Now, all the arts move from lower goals to higher ones.  Won’t Nature do the same?  Hence justice. Which is the source of all the other virtues.  For how could we do what justice requires if we are  distracted by things that don’t matter, if we are naive,  gullible, inconstant? "
Book 11 ,11," It’s the pursuit of these things, and your attempts to avoid  them, that leave you in such turmoil. And yet they aren’t  seeking you out; you are the one seeking them.  Suspend judgment about them And at once they will lie  still, and you will be freed from fleeing and pursuing. "
Book 11 ,12," The soul as a sphere in equilibrium: Not grasping at  things beyond it or retreating inward. Not fragmenting  outward, not sinking back on itself, but ablaze with light and  looking at the truth, without and within. "
Book 11 ,13," Someone despises me.  That’s their problem  Mine: not to do or say anything despicable.  Someone hates me. Their problem  Mine: to be patient and cheerful with everyone, including  them Ready to show them their mistake. Not spitefully, or to  show off my own self-control, but in an honest, upright way.  Like Phocion (if he wasn’t just pretending). That’s what we  should be like inside, and never let the gods catch us feeling  anger or resentment.  As long as you do what’s proper to your nature, and accept  what the world’s nature has in store—as long as you work  for others’ good, by any and all means—what is there that  can harm you? "
Book 11 ,14," They flatter one another out of contempt, and their desire  to rule one another makes them bow and scrape. "
Book 11 ,15," The despicable phoniness of people who say, “Listen,  I’m going to level with you here.” What does that mean? It  shouldn’t even need to be said. It should be obvious—  written in block letters on your forehead. It should be audible  in your voice, visible in your eyes, like a lover who looks  into your face and takes in the whole story at a glance. A  straightforward, honest person should be like someone who  stinks: when you’re in the same room with him, you know it.  But false straightforwardness is like a knife in the back.  False friendship is the worst. Avoid it at all costs. If  you’re honest and straightforward and mean well, it should  show in your eyes. It should be unmistakable. "
Book 11 ,16," To live a good life:  We have the potential for it. If we can learn to be  indifferent to what makes no difference. This is how we  learn: by looking at each thing, both the parts and the whole.  Keeping in mind that none of them can dictate how we  perceive it. They don’t impose themselves onus. They hover  before us, unmoving. It is we who generate the judgments—  inscribing them on ourselves. And we don’t have to. We  could leave the page blank—and if a mark slips through,  erase it instantly.  Remember how brief is the attentiveness required. And  then our lives will end.  And why is it so hard when things go against you? If it’s  imposed by nature, accept it gladly and stop fighting it. And  if not, work out what your own nature requires, and aim at  that, even if it brings you no glory.  None of us is forbidden to pursue our own good. "
Book 11 ,17," Source and substance of each thing. What it changes into,  and what it’s like transformed; that nothing can harm it. "
Book 11 ,18," i. My relationship to them That we came into the world  for the sake of one another. Or from another point of view, I  came into it to be their guardian—as the ram is of the flock,  and the bull of the herd.  Start from this: if not atoms, then Nature—directing  everything. In that case, lower things for the sake of higher  ones, and higher ones for one another.  ii. What they’re like eating, in bed, etc. How driven they  are by their beliefs. How proud they are of what they  do.  iii. That if they’re right to do this, then you have no right  to complain. And if they aren’t, then they do it  involuntarily, out of ignorance. Because all souls are  prevented from treating others as they deserve, just as  they are kept from truth: unwillingly. Which is why they  resent being called unjust, or arrogant, or greedy—any  suggestion that they aren’t good neighbors.  iv. That you’ve made enough mistakes yourself. You’re  just like them.  Even if there are some you’ve avoided, you have the  potential.  Even if cowardice has kept you from them. Or fear of  what people would say. Or some equally bad reason.  v. That you don’t know for sure it is a mistake. A lot of  things are means to some other end. You have to know  an awful lot before you can judge other people’s actions  with real understanding.  vi. When you lose your temper, or even feel irritated:  that human life is very short. Before long all of us will  be laid out side by side.  vii. That it’s not what they do that bothers us: that’s a  problem for their minds, not ours. It’s our own  misperceptions. Discard them. Be willing to give up  thinking of this as a catastrophe . . . and your anger is  gone. How do you do that? By recognizing that you’ve  suffered no disgrace. Unless disgrace is the only thing  that can hurt you, you’re doomed to commit innumerable  offenses—to become a thief, or heaven only knows  what else.  viii. How much more damage anger and grief do than  the things that cause them.  ix. That kindness is invincible, provided it’s sincere—  not ironic or an act. What can even the most vicious  person do if you keep treating him with kindness and  gently set him straight—if you get the chance—  correcting him cheerfully at the exact moment that he’s  trying to do you harm “No, no, my friend. That isn’t  what we’re here for. It isn’t me who’s harmed by that.  It’s you.’’ And show him, gently and without pointing  fingers, that it’s so. That bees don’t behave like this—or  any other animals with a sense of community. Don’t do  it sardonically or meanly, but affectionately—with no  hatred in your heart. And not ex cathedra or to impress  third parties, but speaking directly. Even if there are  other people around.  Keep these nine points in mind, like gifts from the nine  Muses, and start becoming a human being. Now and for  the rest of your life.  And along with not getting angry at others, try not to  pander either. Both are forms of selfishness; both of  them will do you harm When you start to lose your  temper, remember: There’s nothing manly about rage.  It’s courtesy and kindness that define a human being—  and a man. That’s who possesses strength and nerves  and guts, not the angry whiners. To react like that brings  you closer to impassivity—and so to strength. Pain is  the opposite of strength, and so is anger. Both are things  we suffer from, and yield to.  . . . and one more thought, from Apollo:  x. That to expect bad people not to injure others is  crazy. It’s to ask the impossible. And to let them behave  like that to other people but expect them to exempt you  is arrogant—the act of a tyrant. "
Book 11 ,19," Four habits of thought to watch for, and erase from your  mind when you catch them. Tell yourself:  • This thought is unnecessary.  • This one is destructive to the people around you.  • This wouldn’t be what you really think (to say what you  don’t think—the definition of absurdity).  And the fourth reason for self-reproach: that the more  divine part of you has been beaten and subdued by the  degraded mortal part—the body and its stupid self-  indulgence. "
Book 11 ,20," Your spirit and the fire contained within you are drawn  by their nature upward. But they comply with the world’s  designs and submit to being mingled here below. And the  elements of earth and water in you are drawn by their nature  downward. But are forced to rise, and take up a position not  their own. So even the elements obey the world—when  ordered and compelled—and man their stations until the  signal to abandon them arrives.  So why should your intellect be the only dissenter—the  only one complaining about its posting? It’s not as if anything  is being forced on it. Only what its own nature requires. And  yet it refuses to comply, and sets off in the opposite  direction. Because to be drawn toward what is wrong and  self-indulgent, toward anger and fear and pain, is to revolt  against nature. And for the mind to complain about anything  that happens is to desert its post. It was created to show  reverence—respect for the divine—no less than to act justly.  That too is an element of coexistence and a prerequisite for  justice. "
Book 11 ,21," “If you don’t have a consistent goal in life, you can’t live  it in a consistent way.”  Unhelpful, unless you specify a goal.  There is no common benchmark for all the things that  people think are good—except for a few, the ones that affect  us all. So the goal should be a common one—a civic one. If  you direct all your energies toward that, your actions will be  consistent. And so will you. "
Book 11 ,22, The town mouse and the country mouse. Distress and  agitation of the town mouse. 
Book 11 ,23, Socrates used to call popular beliefs “the monsters under  the bed”—only useful for frightening children with. 
Book 11 ,24," At festivals the Spartans put their guests’ seats in the  shade, but sat themselves down anywhere. "
Book 11 ,25, Socrates declining Perdiccas’s invitation “so as to avoid  dying a thousand deaths” (by accepting a favor he couldn’t  pay back). 
Book 11 ,26, This advice from Epicurean writings: to think continually  of one of the men of old who lived a virtuous life. 
Book 11 ,27," The Pythagoreans tell us to look at the stars at daybreak.  To remind ourselves how they complete the tasks assigned  them—always the same tasks, the same way. And their order,  purity, nakedness. Stars wear no concealment. "
Book 11 ,28," Socrates dressed in a towel, the time Xanthippe took his  cloak and went out. The friends who were embarrassed and  avoided him when they saw him dressed like that, and what  Socrates said to them. "
Book 11 ,29, Mastery of reading and writing requires a master. Still  more so life. 
Book 11 ,30, “. . . For yon/Are but a slave and have no claim to  logos.” 
Book 11 ,31, “But my heart rejoiced.” 
Book 11 ,32, “And jeer at virtue with their taunts and sneers.” 
Book 11 ,33," Stupidity is expecting figs in winter, or children in old  age. "
Book 11 ,34," As you kiss your son good night, says Epictetus, whisper  to yourself, “He may be dead in the morning.”  Don’t tempt fate, you say.  By talking about a natural event? Is fate tempted when we  speak of grain being reaped? "
Book 11 ,35, Grapes.  Unripe . . . ripened . . . then raisins.  Constant transitions.  Not the “not” but the “not yet.” 
Book 11 ,36, “No thefts of free will reported.”[—Epictetus.] 
Book 11 ,37," “We need to master the art of acquiescence. We need to  pay attention to our impulses, making sure they don’t go  unmoderated, that they benefit others, that they’re worthy of  us. We need to steer clear of desire in any form and not try to  avoid what’s beyond our control.” "
Book 11 ,38," “This is not a debate about just anything,” he said, “but  about sanity itself.” "
Book 11 ,39," Socrates: What do you want, rational minds or irrational  ones?  —Rational ones.  Healthy or sick?  —Healthy.  Then work to obtain them.  —We already have.  Then why all this squabbling? "
Book 12 ,1,"Everything you’re trying to reach—by taking the long way  round—you could have right now, this moment. If you’d only  stop thwarting your own attempts. If you’d only let go of the  past, entrust the future to Providence, and guide the present  toward reverence and justice.  Reverence: so you’ll accept what you’re allotted. Nature  intended it for you, and you for it.  Justice: so that you’ll speak the truth, frankly and without  evasions, and act as you should—and as other people  deserve.  Don’t let anything deter you: other people’s misbehavior,  your own misperceptions, What People Will Say, or the  feelings of the body that covers you (let the affected part take  care of those). And if, when it’s time to depart, you shunt  everything aside except your mind and the divinity within . . .  if it isn’t ceasing to live that you’re afraid of but never  beginning to live properly . . . then you’ll be worthy of the  world that made you.  No longer an alien in your own land.  No longer shocked by everyday events—as if they were  unheard-of aberrations.  No longer at the mercy of this, or that. "
Book 12 ,2,"God sees all our souls freed from their fleshly containers,  stripped clean of their bark, cleansed of their grime. He  grasps with his intelligence alone what was poured and  channeled from himself into them. If you learn to do the same,  you can avoid a great deal of distress. When you see through  the flesh that covers you, will you be unsettled by clothing,  mansions, celebrity—the painted sets, the costume cupboard? "
Book 12 ,3,"Your three components: body, breath, mind. Two are  yours in trust; to the third alone you have clear title.  If you can cut yourself—your mind—free of what other  people do and say, of what you’ve said or done, of the things  that you’re afraid will happen, the impositions of the body  that contains you and the breath withia and what the whirling  chaos sweeps in from outside, so that the mind is freed from  fate, brought to clarity, and lives life on its own recognizance  —doing what’s right, accepting what happens, and speaking  the truth—  If you can cut free of impressions that cling to the mind,  free of the future and the past—can make yourself, as  Empedocles says, “a sphere rejoicing in its perfect  stillness,” and concentrate on living what can be lived  (which means the present) . . . then you can spend the time  you have left in tranquillity. And in kindness. And at peace  with the spirit within you. "
Book 12 ,4,"It never ceases to amaze me: we all love ourselves more  than other people, but care more about their opinion than our  own. If a god appeared to us—or a wise human being, even  —and prohibited us from concealing our thoughts or  imagining anything without immediately shouting it out, we  wouldn’t make it through a single day. That’s how much we  value other people’s opinions—instead of our own. "
Book 12 ,5,"How is it that the gods arranged everything with such skill,  such care for our well-being, and somehow overlooked one  thing: that certain people—in fact, the best of them, the gods’  own partners, the ones whose piety and good works brought  them closest to the divine—that these people, when they die,  should cease to exist forever? Utterly vanished.  Well, assuming that’s really true, you can be sure they  would have arranged things differently, if that had been  appropriate. If it were the right thing to do, they could have  done it, and if it were natural, nature would have demanded  it. So from the fact that they didn’t—if that’s the case—we  can conclude that it was inappropriate.  Surely you can see yourself that to ask the question is to  challenge the gods’ fairness. And why would you be bringing  in fairness unless the gods are, in fact, fair—and absolutely  so?  And if they are, how could they have carelessly  overlooked something so unfair—so illogical—in setting up  the world? "
Book 12 ,6,"Practice even what seems impossible.  The left hand is useless at almost everything, for lack of  practice. But it guides the reins better than the right. From  practice. "
Book 12 ,7,The condition of soul and body when death comes for us.  Shortness of life.  Vastness of time before and after.  Fragility of matter. 
Book 12 ,8,To see the causes of things stripped bare. The aim of  actions.  Pain. Pleasure. Death. Fame.  Who is responsible for our own restlessness.  That no one obstructs us.  That it’s all in how you perceive it. 
Book 12 ,9,"The student as boxer, not fencer.  The fencer’s weapon is picked up and put down again.  The boxer’s is part of him. All he has to do is clench his  fist. "
Book 12 ,10," To see things as they are. Substance, cause and purpose. "
Book 12 ,11," The freedom to do only what God wants, and accept  whatever God sends us. "
Book 12 ,1 la,a. What it’s made of. 
Book 12 ,12," The gods are not to blame. They do nothing wrong, on  purpose or by accident. Nor men either; they don’t do it on  purpose. No one is to blame. "
Book 12 ,13, The foolishness of people who are surprised by anything  that happens. Like travelers amazed at foreign customs. 
Book 12 ,14," Fatal necessity, and inescapable order. Or benevolent  Providence. Or confusion—random and undirected.  If it’s an inescapable necessity, why resist it?  If it’s Providence, and admits of being worshipped, then  try to be worthy of God’s aid.  If it’s confusion and anarchy, then be grateful that on this  raging sea you have a mind to guide you. And if the storm  should carry you away, let it carry off flesh, breath and all  the rest, but not the mind. Which can’t be swept away. "
Book 12 ,15," The lamp shines until it is put out, without losing its  gleam, and yet in you it all gutters out so early—truth, justice,  self-control? "
Book 12 ,16," When someone seems to have injured you:  But how can I be sure?  And in any case, keep in mind:  • that he’s already been tried and convicted—by himself.  (Like scratching your own eyes out.)  • that to expect a bad person not to harm others is like  expecting fig trees not to secrete juice, babies not to cry,  horses not to neigh—the inevitable not to happen.  What else could they do—with that sort of character?  If you’re still angry, then get to work on that. "
Book 12 ,17," If it’s not right, don’t do it. If it’s not true, don’t say it.  Let your intention be < . . . > "
Book 12 ,18," At all times, look at the thing itself—the thing behind the  appearance—and unpack it by analysis:  • cause  • substance  • purpose  • and the length of time it exists. "
Book 12 ,19, It’s time you realized that you have something in you  more powerful and miraculous than the things that affect you  and make you dance like a puppet.  What’s in my thoughts at this moment? Fear? Jealousy?  Desire? Feelings like that? 
Book 12 ,20, To undertake nothing:  i. at random or without a purpose;  ii. for any reason but the common good. 
Book 12 ,21," That before long you’ll be no one, and nowhere. Like all  the things you see now. All the people now living.  Everything’s destiny is to change, to be transformed, to  perish. So that new things can be born. "
Book 12 ,22," It’s all in how you perceive it. You’re in control. You  can dispense with misperception at will, like rounding the  point. Serenity, total calm, safe anchorage. "
Book 12 ,23," A given action that stops when it’s supposed to is none  the worse for stopping. Nor the person engaged in it either.  So too with the succession of actions we call ""life.” If it ends  when it’s supposed to, it’s none the worse for that. And the  person who comes to the end of the line has no cause for  complaint. The time and stopping point are set by nature—  our own nature, in some cases (death from old age); or nature  as a whole, whose parts, shifting and changing, constantly  renew the world, and keep it on schedule.  Nothing that benefits all things can be ugly or out of place.  The end of life is not an evil—it doesn’t disgrace us. (Why  should we be ashamed of an involuntary act that injures no  one?). It’s a good thing—scheduled by the world, promoting  it, promoted by it.  This is how we become godlike—following God’s path,  and reason’s goals. "
Book 12 ,24," Three things, essential at all times:  i(a). your own actions: that they’re not arbitrary or  different from what abstract justice would do.  i(b). external events: that they happen randomly or by  design. You can’t complain about chance. You can’t  argue with Providence.  ii. what all things are like, from the planting of the seed  to the quickening of life, and from its quickening to its  relinquishment. Where the parts came from and where  they return to.  iii. that if you were suddenly lifted up and could see life  and its variety from a vast height, and at the same time  all the things around you, in the sky and beyond it, you’d  see how pointless it is. And no matter how often you  saw it, it would be the same: the same life forms, the  same life span.  Arrogance . . . about this? "
Book 12 ,25, Throw out your misperceptions and you’ 11 be fine. (And  who’s stopping you from throwing them out?) 
Book 12 ,26," To be angry at something means you’ve forgotten:  That everything that happens is natural.  That the responsibility is theirs, not yours.  And further . . .  That whatever happens has always happened, and  always will, and is happening at this very moment,  everywhere. Just like this.  What links one human being to all humans: not blood, or  birth, but mind.  And . . .  That an individual’s mind is God and of God.  That nothing belongs to anyone. Children, body, life  itself—all of them come from that same source.  That it’s all how you choose to see things.  That the present is all we have to live in. Or to lose. "
Book 12 ,27," Constantly run down the list of those who felt intense  anger at something: the most famous, the most unfortunate, the  most hated, the most whatever. And ask: Where is all that  now? Smoke, dust, legend ... or not even a legend. Think of  all the examples: Fabius Catullinus in the country, Lusius  Lupus in the orchard, Stertinius at Baiae, Tiberius on Capri,  Velius Rufus . . . obsession and arrogance.  And how trivial the things we want so passionately are.  And how much more philosophical it would be to take what  we’re given and show uprightness, self-control, obedience to  God, without making a production of it. There’s nothing more  insufferable than people who boast about their own humility. "
Book 12 ,28," People ask, “Have you ever seen the gods you worship?  How can you be sure they exist?”  Answers:  i. Just look around you.  ii. I’ve never seen my soul either. And yet I revere it.  That’s how I know the gods exist and why I revere them—  from having felt their power, over and over. "
Book 12 ,29," Salvation: to see each thing for what it is—its nature and  its purpose.  To do only what is right, say only what is true, without  holding back.  What else could it be but to live life fully—to pay out  goodness like the rings of a chain, without the slightest gap. "
Book 12 ,30," Singular, not plural:  Sunlight. Though broken up by walls and mountains and a  thousand other things.  Substance. Though split into a thousand forms, variously  shaped.  Life. Though distributed among a thousand different  natures with their individual limitations.  Intelligence. Even if it seems to be divided.  The other components—breath, matter—lack any  awareness or connection to one another (yet unity and its  gravitational pull embrace them too).  But intelligence is uniquely drawn toward what is akin to  it, and joins with it inseparably, in shared awareness. "
Book 12 ,31," What is it you want? To keep on breathing? What about  feeling? desiring? growing? ceasing to grow? using your  voice? thinking? Which of them seems worth having?  But if you can do without them all, then continue to follow  the logos, and God. To the end. To prize those other things—  to grieve because death deprives us of them—is an obstacle. "
Book 12 ,32," The fraction of infinity, of that vast abyss of time, allotted  to each of us. Absorbed in an instant into eternity.  The fraction of all substance, and all spirit.  The fraction of the whole earth you crawl about on.  Keep all that in mind, and don’t treat anything as important  except doing what your nature demands, and accepting what  Nature sends you. "
Book 12 ,33," How the mind conducts itself. It all depends on that. All  the rest is within its power, or beyond its control—corpses  and smoke. "
Book 12 ,34, An incentive to treat death as unimportant: even people  whose only morality is pain and pleasure can manage that  much. 
Book 12 ,35," If you make ripeness alone your good . . .  If a few actions more or less, governed by the right logos,  are merely a few more or less . ..  If it makes no difference whether you look at the world for  this long or that long . . .  . . . then death shouldn’t scare you. "
Book 12 ,36," You’ve lived as a citizen in a great city. Five years or a  hundred—what’s the difference? The laws make no  distinction.  And to be sent away from it, not by a tyrant or a dishonest  judge, but by Nature, who first invited you in—why is that so  terrible?  Like the impresario ringing down the curtain on an actor:  “But I’ve only gotten through three acts .. . !”  Yes. This will be a drama in three acts, the length fixed by  the power that directed your creation, and now directs your  dissolution. Neither was yours to determine.  So make your exit with grace—the same grace shown to  you. "