Book X

Marcus describes the ideal state of the soul: freed from dependence on external things, finding contentment in the present estate through belief in divine providence, and achieving harmony with both gods and men.

To live according to nature, one must examine what is required first as a living creature, then as a sensing creature, and finally as a rational creature, since reason is inherently sociable.

Whatever happens, one should either bear it according to one's natural constitution or recognize that through rational opinion one can make oneself capable of bearing it.

One should attempt to teach those who offend with gentleness and meekness, and if unsuccessful, blame oneself only if one's efforts were inadequate.

Whatever happens to you was destined for you from eternity through the coherence of all causes, so one's substance and experiences are interwoven by cosmic law.

Since we are parts of a rationally governed universe and kin to other rational beings, we should never resent our share of the world's events and should work for the common good, as a happy citizen works for his city.

All parts of the world undergo alteration and dissolution by necessity; this is neither contrary to nature nor should grieve us, since dissolution merely redistributes elements into the generative seeds of the universe.

One should embody the three names of virtue—mindful discrimination, contented acceptance, and transcendent indifference to bodily concerns—and live by them rather than merely claiming them.

To honor the gods is to become like them by fulfilling what nature requires of us as rational beings, as all creatures naturally apply themselves to their proper function.

One should unite action and contemplation, attending to present duties while also understanding each thing according to its true nature, deriving pleasure from this contemplative knowledge.

Great soldiers who boast of victories over the Sarmatai are no more admirable than a spider or hunter proud of catching prey—they merely hunt according to their nature.

One should practice regularly in understanding how all things change into one another, as this contemplative exercise is the most effective means to develop true greatness of mind.

The exemplary person has freed himself from bodily bonds and committed himself solely to acting justly and accepting all that happens, ignoring others' judgments.

One should not waste thought on suspicion about the future but instead focus on what can be determined in the present, acting with prudence and reason.

The person who follows reason appears slow yet quick, merry yet grave, because reason governs all apparent contradictions in the virtuous person.

Upon waking, before passions and external things influence judgment, one should recognize that whether right action comes from oneself or others is immaterial; one should also remember that those praised by the world often harbor base thoughts.

The truly modest person submits to the divine giver and taker with love and humility rather than stern resolution.

One should live as if alone on a desert hill, indifferent to location and to others' judgment, truly living according to human nature even if others cannot bear it.

Rather than debating what constitutes a good person, one should simply become one through action.

One should keep in mind the vast age of the world and recognize that all particular things are insignificant in substance and duration, tending toward dissolution.

By observing humans in all their mundane and base activities—eating, sleeping, bodily functions—and considering their short lives, one recognizes their essential insignificance.

What is best for each being is what the common nature sends, and it is best precisely when it is sent.

Just as earth and sky share mutual love, one should align one's affections with the world's inclinations, making its desires one's own.

Either one continues in one's accustomed way of life, or one retires of one's own accord and finds peace, or death severs one's life—one of these must occur, so one should be comforted.

Solitude and desert places have no inherent advantage; one can practice philosophical contemplation equally anywhere, even in a shepherd's lodge, by examining one's ruling faculty.

Just as a runaway slave flees his master, one who is sorry, angry, or afraid of divine appointments flees the universal law that governs all things.

One should meditate on the invisible causes that operate in processes like conception and digestion, understanding the hidden power that accomplishes wondrous transformations.

All historical eras and the lives of famous figures follow the same patterns; only the actors change, so one should recognize the uniformity of human affairs.

One who grieves for worldly things is like a wounded pig struggling against fate; though all creatures must submit to providence absolutely, only rational creatures may do so willingly.

One should ask oneself why the prospect of never doing something again after death should make death seem fearful.

When angered by another's transgression, one should reflect on one's own similar faults and recognize that the offender acts from error and ignorance, then help him correct it.

By observing famous figures of the past and their successors, one should recognize that all worldly things are transient smoke and that one's own brief time should not be anxiously pursued or avoided.

The difficulties of life are proper exercises for understanding; one should be patient and gradually transform them through contemplation, as a strong stomach transforms all food.

One's simplicity, sincerity, and goodness depend entirely on oneself; the mind has the unique privilege of overcoming all obstacles and maintaining reason against every hindrance.

Obstacles that are not obstacles to the mind either belong to the body or arise from faulty reasoning; they cannot harm us unless we misuse them, and virtuous use of them makes us better.

Once the dogmata take hold, everything encountered—even brief poems—serves as a reminder that all things are transient like leaves, and one should not cling to worldly pursuits.

Just as a good eye must see all things and a good stomach must accept all food, sound understanding must be equally ready for whatever happens, not selectively preferring certain outcomes.

Even virtuous persons arouse relief at their death; knowing this, one should be willing to depart while remaining kind to those left behind, as nature intends.

One should habitually ask oneself what end or motive drives each action one observes, beginning with scrutiny of one's own actions.

One's dogmata and internal opinions, not external things, are what truly move and govern the affections; the body and its instruments are merely tools that require the mind's direction.