The Enchiridion

It is a mark of want of ge­nius to spend much time in things re­lat­ing to the body, as to be long in our ex­er­cises, in eat­ing and drink­ing, and in the dis­charge of other an­i­mal func­tions.

If any­one tells you that such a per­son speaks ill of you, don’t make ex­cuses about what is said of you, but an­swer: “He does not know my other faults, else he would not have men­tioned only these.”

Who told you, then, that these are among the things in our own con­trol, and not the af­fair of oth­ers? And who can give to an­other the things which he has not him­self?

Don’t de­mand that things hap­pen as you wish, but wish that they hap­pen as they do hap­pen, and you will go on well.

With re­gard to what­ever ob­jects give you de­light, are use­ful, or are deeply loved, re­mem­ber to tell your­self of what gen­eral na­ture they are, be­gin­ning from the most in­signif­i­cant things.

With ev­ery ac­ci­dent, ask your­self what abil­i­ties you have for mak­ing a proper use of it. If you see an at­trac­tive per­son, you will find that self-re­straint is the abil­ity you have against your de­sire. If you are in pain, you will find for­ti­tude. If you hear un­pleas­ant lan­guage, you will find pa­tience.

It’s not the ac­ci­dent that dis­tresses this per­son, be­cause it doesn’t dis­tress an­other per­son; it is the judg­ment which he makes about it

Don’t de­mand that things hap­pen as you wish, but wish that they hap­pen as they do hap­pen, and you will go on well.

You must be one man, ei­ther good or bad.

If a per­son gave your body to any stranger he met on his way, you would cer­tainly be an­gry. And do you feel no shame in hand­ing over your own mind to be con­fused and mys­ti­fied by any­one who hap­pens to ver­bally at­tack you?