The ruling faculty

This thought too helps toward casting off empty fame: it is no longer possible for you to have lived your whole life, or at least your life from youth on, as a philosopher. Both to many others and to yourself it is plain that you are far from philosophy. You have fallen short, then, so that it's no longer easy for you to earn the reputation of a philosopher, and your position in life stands against it too. So if you have truly seen where the matter stands, drop the concern for how you will appear, and be content if you live the rest of your life, however short, as your nature wills. Study, then, what it wills, and let nothing else distract you—for you have had experience enough of wandering without finding happiness anywhere: not in logic, not in wealth, not in reputation, not in indulgence, nowhere. Where is it, then? In doing what human nature requires. How then does one do this? By having principles from which one's impulses and actions spring. What principles? Those concerning good and bad: that there is nothing good for a human being which does not make him just, self-controlled, courageous, free—and nothing bad which does not do the opposite of these.

On the occasion of every act, ask yourself: how does this touch me? Will I regret it? A little while and I'm dead, and everything is gone. What more do I need, if what I'm doing now is the work of an intelligent, social being living under the same law as God?

Alexander and Gaius and Pompey—what are they next to Diogenes and Heraclitus and Socrates? Those men knew things, their causes, and their matter, and their ruling faculties matched their pursuits. But the others—how much they had to worry about, and how many things enslaved them!

Consider: people will go on doing the same things regardless, even if you burst.

This is the main thing: don't be disturbed, for all things follow the nature of the universe, and in a little while you will be no one and nowhere, like Hadrian and Augustus. Next, keeping your eyes fixed on the task before you, look at it, remembering at the same time that it's your duty to be a good person, and to do without swerving what human nature demands—and to say whatever seems most just to you, only with good will, modesty, and no pretense.

The nature of the universe has this work to do: to move what is here over there, to change it, to take it away from here and carry it there. Everything changes, yet there is no need to fear anything new. All things are familiar to us; the pattern of their distribution remains the same.

Every nature is content with itself when it goes well on its way. A rational nature goes well when it gives assent to nothing false or uncertain in its thoughts. It directs its impulses only toward social acts, confines desire and aversion to what is in its own power, and welcomes everything assigned by the common nature. Every individual nature is part of that common nature, as the nature of a leaf is part of the nature of a plant. But the leaf belongs to a nature without perception or reason and is subject to obstruction. A human being's nature belongs to one that cannot be obstructed and is intelligent and just. The common nature distributes to each thing, equally and according to its worth, its times, substance, cause, activity, and circumstances. Do not test this by looking for one thing exactly equal to another in every respect. Take all the parts of one thing together and compare them with all the parts of the other.

You may not have the time—or the ability—to read. But you do have the time and ability to check arrogance; to rise above pleasure and pain; to rise above the love of fame; and not to be irritated by stupid and ungrateful people—indeed, even to care for them.

Let no one ever hear you again complaining about life at court, or about your own life.

Regret is a kind of self-reproach for having neglected something useful. But whatever is good must also be useful, and the truly good person ought to attend to it. Yet no such person would ever regret having turned down some sensual pleasure. So pleasure is neither good nor useful.

This thing—what is it in itself, in its own constitution? What is its substance and matter? What is its causal nature? What is it doing in the world? How long does it last?

When you rise from sleep reluctantly, remember that it is in keeping with your constitution and with human nature to perform social acts, while sleep is something you share even with irrational animals. What belongs to each being's own nature is more truly its own, more suited to it, and indeed more pleasant too.

Constantly, and if possible at the occasion of every impression on the soul, apply to it the principles of Physics, of Ethics, and of Logic.

Whatever person you meet, say to yourself at once: what opinions does this man hold about good and bad? For if he holds such and such opinions about pleasure and pain and their causes, about fame and disgrace, death and life, then it won't seem strange or surprising to me if he does such and such things—and I'll keep in mind that he's compelled to act this way.

Remember: just as it would be shameful to be surprised that a fig tree produces figs, so it is to be surprised that the world produces whatever it is disposed to produce; and it is shameful for a physician or a helmsman to be surprised that a man has a fever, or that the wind turns unfavorable.

Remember that changing your mind and following someone who corrects your error is just as much an act of freedom as persisting in the error. For it is your own action, exercised according to your own impulse and judgment—indeed, according to your own understanding.

If a thing is in your own power, why do you do it? But if it's in another's power, whom do you blame—the atoms, or the gods? Either is foolish. You must blame no one. If you can, correct the cause; if you can't do even that, correct the thing itself; and if you can't even do that, what use is finding fault? Nothing should be done without a purpose.

What has died does not fall outside the universe. If it stays here, it also changes here, and is broken down into its own parts, which are elements of the universe and of you. And these too change, and they don't complain.

Everything exists for some purpose—a horse, a vine. Why are you surprised? Even the sun will say, I exist for a purpose, and so will the rest of the gods. For what purpose, then, do you exist—to enjoy pleasure? See if common sense allows that.

Nature has cared no less about the ending of a thing than about its beginning and continuation—just like someone throwing a ball up. What good is it to the ball to be thrown up, or what harm to come down, or even to have fallen? What good is it to a bubble while it holds together, or what harm when it bursts? The same can be said of a flame.

Turn the body inside out and see what kind of thing it is; and what it becomes when it has grown old, or when it is diseased. Short-lived are both the one who praises and the one praised, the one who remembers and the one remembered—and all of this in one corner of this part of the world. And not even here does everyone agree, no, not even any single person with himself. And the whole earth, too, is a mere point.