A citizen of the universe

Every instrument, tool, or vessel is doing well if it performs the function it was made for, even though the one who made it is no longer present. But in things held together by nature, the power that made them remains within them and abides there; and so it is all the more fitting to revere this power, and to believe that, if you live and act according to its will, everything in you is in keeping with intelligence. In just this way, the things belonging to the universe are also in keeping with intelligence.

Whatever, among the things not within your power, you suppose to be good or bad for you—it must follow that, if such a bad thing happens to you, or you lose such a good thing, you will blame the gods, and hate men too—those who caused the misfortune or the loss, or those suspected of being likely to cause it; and indeed we do much injustice because we draw distinctions among these things instead of treating them as indifferent. But if we judge good or bad only in the things within our own power, there remains no reason either to find fault with God or to stand in a hostile posture toward man.

We are all working together toward one end, some with knowledge and purpose, others without knowing what they do—the way, I think, Heraclitus says that even men asleep are workers and fellow-laborers in what takes place in the universe. But men cooperate in different ways; even those cooperate abundantly who find fault with what happens and try to oppose and hinder it, for the universe had need even of men like these. It remains for you, then, to understand among which kind of workers you place yourself; for the one who governs all things will certainly make good use of you, and will receive you among some portion of his fellow-workers, among those whose labors serve one end. But don't you be a part like that mean and laughable line in the play that Chrysippus speaks of.

Does the sun undertake to do the work of the rain, or Asclepius the work of the Fruit-bearer [the earth]? And how is it with each of the stars—aren't they different from one another, and yet working together toward the same end?

If the gods have decided about me and what must happen to me, they have decided well. It isn't easy even to imagine a god without forethought. Why would they wish to harm me? What advantage would that bring them, or the whole that is the special object of their providence? If they haven't decided about me individually, they have certainly decided about the whole. I should welcome and accept whatever follows from that general order. But suppose they decide about nothing—which it is wicked to believe. If we do believe it, then let's stop sacrificing, praying, swearing by them, and doing everything else we do as though the gods were present and living among us. Even then, if the gods decide none of the things that concern us, I can decide about myself and inquire into what is useful to me. What is useful to each person accords with his own constitution and nature. My nature is rational and social. As Antoninus, my city and country is Rome. As a human being, it is the world. Only what is useful to these cities is useful to me.

Whatever happens to any man serves the interest of the whole—this alone might be enough. But you will also notice this further truth, if you observe it: that whatever benefits one man benefits other men too. But let 'benefit' here be taken in the ordinary sense, as said of things of the middle sort—neither good nor bad.

Just as it happens to you at the amphitheater and places like it, that the constant sight of the same things and their sameness makes the show tiresome, so it is with the whole of life; for everything, above and below, is the same and comes from the same source. How much longer, then?

Keep constantly in mind that all sorts of men, of every pursuit and every nation, are dead—so that your thoughts come down even to Philistion and Phoebus and Origanion. Now turn your thoughts to other kinds of men. To that same place we must go, where there are so many great orators and so many noble philosophers—Heraclitus, Pythagoras, Socrates; so many heroes of former days, and so many generals and tyrants who came after them; and besides these, Eudoxus, Hipparchus, Archimedes, and other men of sharp natural gifts, great minds, hard workers, versatile, confident, even mockers of man's perishable and fleeting life—like Menippus and men like him. Of all these, consider that they have long been in the dust. What harm is this to them, then—and what harm to those whose very names are utterly unknown? One thing here is worth a great deal: to spend your life in truth and justice, with goodwill even toward liars and unjust men.

When you want to cheer yourself, think of the virtues of the people you live with—for instance, the energy of one, the modesty of another, the generosity of a third, some other good quality in a fourth. For nothing delights us so much as examples of the virtues, on display in the characters of those who live with us and presenting themselves in abundance, as far as possible. That's why we must keep them before us.

You're not upset, I take it, because you weigh only so many pounds and not three hundred. Then don't be upset that you must live only so many years and not more; for just as you're content with the amount of substance allotted to you, be content also with the span of time.

Let us try to persuade people. But act even against their will when the principles of justice point that way. If, however, someone uses force to stand in your way, turn instead to contentment and calm, and at the same time use the obstacle as an occasion to exercise some other virtue. Remember that your attempt was made with a reservation: you weren't seeking to do the impossible. What, then, were you seeking? An effort of this kind. And you attain your object even if the things you were moved toward are not accomplished.

The man who loves fame regards another man's activity as his own good; the man who loves pleasure regards his own sensations as his good; but the man of understanding regards his own actions as his own good.

It is within our power to hold no opinion about a thing, and not to be disturbed in our soul; for things themselves have no natural power to force a judgment on us.

Train yourself to pay close attention to what another person is saying, and, as far as possible, be inside the speaker's mind.

What is not good for the hive is not good for the bee either.

If sailors spoke abusively of the helmsman, or the sick of the doctor, would they listen to anyone else? Or how could the helmsman secure the safety of those on the ship, or the doctor the health of those in his care?

How many who came into the world along with me have already gone out of it.

To the jaundiced, honey tastes bitter; to those bitten by a mad dog, water brings terror; and to little children, a ball seems a fine thing. Why, then, am I angry? Do you think a false opinion has less power than the bile in the jaundiced man or the poison in the one bitten by a mad dog?

No one will keep you from living according to the reason of your own nature; nothing will happen to you against the reason of the universal nature.

What sort of people are these whom men wish to please, and for what ends, and by what sort of actions? How soon time will cover everything, and how much it has covered already.