Book 4
4
Conduct me, Zeus; and thou, O Destiny. Is it your will that I should go to Rome? Conduct me to Rome. To Gyaros? To Gyaros. To Athens? To Athens. To prison? To prison. If you once say, When may I go to Athens? you are undone. This desire, if it be unaccomplished, must necessarily render you disappointed; and if fulfilled, vain respecting what ought not to elate you; if, on the contrary, you are hindered, then you are wretched through incurring what you do not like. Therefore give up all these things.
4
Athens is a fine place. But it is a much finer thing to be happy, serene, tranquil, not to have your affairs dependent on others. Rome is full of tumults and visits. But prosperity is worth all difficulties. If, then, it be a proper time for these, why do not you withdraw your aversion from them? What necessity is there for you to be made to carry your burden, by being cudgelled like an ass? Otherwise, consider that you must always be a slave to him who has the power to procure your discharge,—to every one who has the power of hindering you,—and must worship him like your evil genius.
4
The only way to real prosperity (let this rule be at hand morning, noon, and night) is a resignation of things uncontrollable by will; to esteem nothing as property; to deliver up all things to our tutelar genius and to fortune; to leave the control of them to those whom Zeus hath made such; to be ourselves devoted to that only which is really ours,—to that which is incapable of restraint,—and whatever we read or write or hear, to refer all to this.
