December

Let us prepare our minds as if we'd come to the very end of life. Let us postpone nothing. Let us balance life's books each day. The one who puts the finishing touches on their life each day is never short of time.

Let each thing you would do, say or intend be like that of a dying person.

Philosophy does not claim to get a person any external possession. To do so would be beyond its field. As wood is to the carpenter, bronze to the sculptor, so our own lives are the proper material in the art of living.

Anything that can be prevented, taken away, or coerced is not a person's own—but those things that can't be blocked are their own.

Keep death and exile before your eyes each day, along with everything that seems terrible—by doing so, you'll never have a base thought nor will you have excessive desire.

Don't behave as if you are destined to live forever. What's fated hangs over you. As long as you live and while you can, become good now.

Think of the life you have lived until now as over and, as a dead man, see what's left as a bonus and live it according to Nature. Love the hand that fate deals you and play it as your own, for what could be more fitting?

It's better to conquer grief than to deceive it.

Were all the geniuses of history to focus on this single theme, they could never fully express their bafflement at the darkness of the human mind. No person would give up even an inch of their estate, and the slightest dispute with a neighbor can mean hell to pay; yet we easily let others encroach on our lives—worse, we often pave the way for those who will take it over. No person hands out their money to passersby, but to how many do each of us hand out our lives! We’re tight-fisted with property and money, yet think too little of wasting time, the one thing about which we should all be the toughest misers.

I say, let no one rob me of a single day who isn't going to make a full return on the loss.

As Cicero says, we hate gladiators if they are quick to save their lives by any means; we favor them if they show contempt for their lives.

Walk the long gallery of the past, of empires and kingdoms succeeding each other without number. And you can also see the future, for surely it will be exactly the same, unable to deviate from the present rhythm. It's all one whether we've experienced forty years or an aeon. What more is there to see?

You aren't bothered, are you, because you weigh a certain amount and not twice as much? So why get worked up that you've been given a certain lifespan and not more? Just as you are satisfied with your normal weight, so you should be with the time you've been given.

Soon you will die, and still you aren't sincere, undisturbed, or free from suspicion that external things can harm you, nor are you gracious to all, knowing that wisdom and acting justly are one and the same.

This is the mark of perfection of character—to spend each day as if it were your last, without frenzy, laziness, or any pretending.

I tell you, you only have to learn to live like the healthy person does … living with complete confidence. What confidence? The only one worth holding, in what is trustworthy, unhindered, and can't be taken away—your own reasoned choice.

Death lies heavy upon one who, known exceedingly well by all, dies unknown to himself.

Both Alexander the Great and his mule-keeper were both brought to the same place by death—they were either received into the all-generative reason, or scattered among the atoms.

Think of the whole universe of matter and how small your share. Think about the expanse of time and how brief almost momentary the part marked for you. Think of the workings of fate and how infinitesimal your role.

Do you then ponder how the supreme of human evils, the surest mark of the base and cowardly, is not death, but the fear of death? I urge you to discipline yourself against such fear, direct all your thinking, exercises, and reading this way—and you will know the only path to human freedom.

Many times an old man has no other evidence besides his age to prove he has lived a long time.

For it's disgraceful for an old person, or one in sight of old age, to have only the knowledge carried in their notebooks. Zeno said this … what do you say? Cleanthes said that … what do you say? How long will you be compelled by the claims of another? Take charge and stake your own claim-something posterity will carry in its notebook.

You are afraid of dying. But, come now, how is this life of yours anything but death?

You know what wine and liqueur tastes like. It makes no difference whether a hundred or a thousand bottles pass through your bladder—you are nothing more than a filter.

The mind must be given relaxation—it will rise improved and sharper after a good break. Just as rich fields must not be forced—for they will quickly lose their fertility if never given a break—so constant work on the anvil will fracture the force of the mind. But it regains its powers if it is set free and relaxed for a while. Constant work gives rise to a certain kind of dullness and feebleness in the rational soul.

It's not at all that we have too short a time to live, but that we squander a great deal of it. Life is long enough, and it's given in sufficient measure to do many great things if we spend it well. But when it's poured down the drain of luxury and neglect, when it's employed to no good end, were finally driven to see that it has passed by before we even recognized it passing. And so it is—we don’t receive a short life, we make it so.

It's a disgrace in this life when the soul surrenders first while the body refuses to.

Everything lasts for a day, the one who remembers and the remembered.

In all things we should try to make ourselves be as grateful as possible. For gratitude is a good thing for ourselves, in a manner in which justice, commonly held to belong to others, is not. Gratitude pays itself back in large measure.

To bear trials with a calm mind robs misfortune of its strength and burden.

Stop wandering about! You aren't likely to read your own notebooks, or ancient histories, or the anthologies you've collected to enjoy in your old age. Get busy with life's purpose, toss aside empty hopes, get active in your own rescue—if you care for yourself at all—and do it while you can.