behaving like a human—however imperfectly—and fully
embrace the pursuit that you’ve embarked on.
And not to think of philosophy as your instructor, but as the
sponge and egg white that relieve ophthalmia—as a soothing
ointment, a warm lotion. Not showing off your obedience to
the logos, but resting in it. Remember: philosophy requires
only what your nature already demands. What you’ve been
after is something else again—something unnatural.
—But what could be preferable?That’s exactly how pleasure traps us, isn’t it? Wouldn’t
magnanimity be preferable? Or freedom? Honesty?
Prudence? Piety? And is there anything preferable to thought
itself—to logic, to understanding? Think of their
surefootedness. Their fluent stillness.
- Things are wrapped in such a veil of mystery that many
good philosophers have found it impossible to make sense of
them. Even the Stoics have trouble. Any assessment we make
is subject to alteration—just as we are ourselves.
Look closely at them—how impermanent they are, how
meaningless. Things that a pervert can own, a whore, a thief.
Then look at the way the people around you behave. Even
the best of them are hard to put up with—not to mention