The Anatomy of Melancholy

Or let us throw into the nearest sea Gems and jewels, and useless gold, The material of the greatest evil, If we truly repent of our sins.

Zeno the philosopher lost all his goods in a shipwreck; he could welcome it, for Fortune had done him a good turn. “She can take my wealth from me, but not my mind.” Ever afterwards he defied her: she could not rob someone who had nothing to lose. He could despise more than others could possess or desire.

Alexander sent a hundred talents of gold as a gift to Phocion of Athens because he had heard that he was a good man. But Phocion sent the talents back with the reply, “Allow me to remain a good man in future.” Let me remain good; leave me as I am.

I ask for no gold for myself, no payment.

Crates of Thebes threw his money into the sea of his own accord: “Away, coins! I will drown you, so that you do not drown me.” I would rather drown you than have you drown me. Can Stoics and Epicureans despise wealth like this, while we Christians cannot?

It was “a manly and splendid utterance,” a noble speech by Cotta in Sallust: “Many miseries have befallen me at home and in wars abroad. With God’s help I have endured some, repelled others, and overcome them by my own courage. My undertakings never lacked spirit, nor my purposes effort; prosperity or adversity could never change my character.”

A wise man’s mind, as Seneca maintains, is like the region of the universe above the moon, always serene. Let whatever can come, come; let whatever may happen, happen: “Set against it a spirit unbroken and unconquered. In adversity show yourself spirited and brave.” (Horace, Odes 2.11.)

Hope and patience are two supreme remedies for everything, the surest places of rest, the softest cushions to lean on in adversity:

Hard though it is, patience makes lighter Whatever we are not permitted to change.

If it cannot be helped or put right, make the best of it. “Whoever accommodates himself to necessity is wise”: a wise man adapts himself to the times. Treat all such unavoidable events as you would a game of backgammon.

Human life is like a game of dice: If the throw you most need does not fall, Use skill to improve what chance has thrown.

If you cannot throw what you wish, play your throw as well as you can. Everything, says Epictetus, has two handles: one by which it can be held, the other by which it cannot. We may choose what to take and what to leave. His commentator Simplicius has illustrated all this with many examples. It lies within our power, as the saying goes, to make or mar ourselves.