Book VI

The matter of the universe is tractable and pliable, and the rational essence that governs it has no inclination toward evil and determines all things according to its will.

One should regard all external circumstances—comfort, sleep, praise, or even dying—as equally indifferent when performing one's duty.

One must thoroughly examine and understand the true nature and worth of things before passing judgment on them.

All substances undergo change and dissolution, and while the rational essence that governs all things understands itself, we should not be surprised that we do not comprehend all reasons.

The superior revenge is to refuse to become like those who wrong you, rather than seeking retribution.

True joy and comfort come from performing one virtuous sociable action after another, with God always in mind.

The rational commanding part has the unique ability to direct itself and to determine how all things appear to it according to its will.

If the universe is merely confused and will be scattered, life is meaningless and death inevitable; but if it is ordered by Providence, then piety and patience are justified and we should trust in the Governor.

When troubled by difficult circumstances, one should quickly return to one's philosophical composure to maintain harmony and be able to resume right action.

One should treat philosophy as a mother—the primary source of comfort and support—to which one continually returns, just as other things become bearable through it.

By reducing luxuries and desires to their material essence—food as carcasses, wine as grape juice, purple as dyed sheep's hair, sex as mechanical action—we strip away their seductive appearance and recognize their true nature.

The author references Crates' judgment concerning Xenocrates without elaboration, presumably to illustrate a philosophical example.

People of different character admire different things—the common sort admire natural things, the moderate admire animals, the refined admire human crafts, but the truly wise honor the rational soul itself.

Everything is in constant flux and change; our lives are mere exhalations of breath, so one should not attach to things that pass away so quickly.

Neither vegetative nor animal functions nor even human praise should be dear to us; rather, what matters is that all our actions accord with our true rational nature, like the proper function of any tool or art.

The motion of virtue is more excellent and divine than the physical motions of elements, and its path is not easily comprehended.

The author notes the irony that ambitious people do not speak well of their contemporaries yet desperately care what future generations, whom they will never see, think of them.

One should not think anything impossible for humans that is possible in general; whatever is possible for any person should be considered possible for oneself.

When wounded by an antagonist at the palestra, one does not hate or suspect them; similarly, one should maintain this attitude of gentle declination toward difficulties in life without suspicion or enmity.

One should gladly retract any opinion or action shown to be in error, for truth protects all who seek it, while error and ignorance harm those who persist in it.

One should do what belongs to oneself as a rational, social being while remaining untroubled by irrational or deceived creatures, using non-rational things generously and relating sociably to other rational beings.

Whether the dead are returned to their original rational essences or scattered into atoms, Alexander of Macedon and his mule-keeper experience the same fate.

Because countless changes occur within each person simultaneously, one should not be surprised that all things in the world can exist and coexist together.

Just as one methodically spells out the letters of a name without quarreling with objectors, one should calmly and orderly proceed through the letters of duty without tumult.

Rather than becoming angry with sinners, one should recognize that they pursue what they conceive to be good, and one should teach them better without anger.

Death is the cessation of sensory impressions, passions, mental errors, and bodily servitude.

If the body can endure, it is shameful for the soul to give up; one should remain simple, good, sincere, and virtuous, resisting corruption by court life and the life of a merely worldly Caesar.

Marcus lists the virtues of his predecessor Antoninus Pius—his constancy, equability, sanctity, freedom from vanity, patience, incorruptibility—as an exemplar to emulate so that one's final hour finds one prepared.

One should stir the mind to awaken from natural dreams and visions, and regard worldly things with the same clarity one uses to view the objects seen in sleep.

The body cannot distinguish between things, so all external things are indifferent to it; the mind is indifferent to things outside its operation and focuses only on present operations.

As long as a foot performs its function and a hand performs its function, their labor is natural and not harmful; similarly, a man acting according to his rational nature cannot be hurt even if pleasure-seeking seems to reward wrongdoing.

Even unskilled mechanics adhere faithfully to their trades, yet it is shameful that architects and physicians respect their professions more than humans respect reason, which is shared with the Gods.

Asia and Europe are mere corners of the world, present time is but a point of eternity, and all things alter and perish quickly, so one should not regard harmful things as contrary to good things but consider the true fountain of all.

He who sees present things has seen all that was and will be, for all are of one kind and connected through local motion, natural agreement, and substantial union.

One should fit oneself to the estate and circumstances assigned by destiny and love those one is fated to live with, just as an instrument's indwelling power maintains it for its purpose.

If you call things good or evil that are outside your control, you will blame the Gods and hate others; but if you judge only what depends on your will, you will have no cause for complaint or enmity.

All beings work to one effect—some knowingly, some unknowingly; even those who resist still cooperate as the world needs them, so choose to cooperate willingly rather than as a vile part of the comedy.

Though sun, rain, earth, and each star have their separate functions and differ from one another, they all cooperate toward the same universal end.

Whether the Gods deliberate specifically about us (we must accept their wisdom), generally about all (we must accept the particular consequences), or not at all (a view the author rejects), one may deliberate about one's own profit, which is living according to rational nature and sociability.

Whatever happens to any person is expedient for the whole, which should suffice; though one will also perceive that particular events often concern things indifferent like health and wealth.

Just as repeated theater shows become tiresome, the same events happening repeatedly throughout life should make us ask when there will be an end.

By meditating on the deaths of all sorts of people—from the obscure to philosophers and kings—and recognizing they are gone and unharmed by death, one learns that the only thing worthwhile is to live truthfully and righteously with others.

One should find comfort and cheer by calling to mind the various virtues of those one lives with, observing their different excellences like parallels to the virtues one should cultivate.

Just as one accepts one's natural weight without wishing for three hundred pounds, one should accept one's appointed lifespan without wishing for longer.

If justice is hindered by force, convert your virtuous inclination to equanimity and patience, turning what blocks one virtue into practice of another; this accords with the proper reservation one always had.

The ambitious person finds happiness in others' praise, the voluptuous in sensations, but the wise person finds it in their own virtuous action.

One has the absolute power to exclude all opinion and conceit about matters, thereby excluding grief and sorrow, for things themselves have no power to force opinions upon us.

One should listen so intently to another that no other thoughts intrude, becoming as if fixed to the very soul of the speaker.

Individual good is inseparable from communal good, following the Stoic principle that personal interest aligns with the health of the whole.

Those traveling or ill ask only that they reach their destination or recover; similarly, one need only fulfill one's proper function without seeking additional praise.

Many who were born with us have already died, which should remind us of our own mortality and the brevity of human life.

Just as jaundice makes honey taste bitter or poison makes water terrible, error and false opinion powerfully compel transgression, so anger at others' sins is misplaced.

No obstacle can prevent one from living as reason requires, for whatever happens is required by the common good of nature.

The passage ends with a meditation on those whom people seek to please and what they seek to gain, noting that time soon buries all things and all persons.