Stoic Sage

Your guide to Stoic philosophy

Search and explore the words of Marcus Aurelius, Seneca and Epictetus — over 1,400 curated passages from the Meditations, Discourses, Enchiridion, Fragments and Seneca’s essays, with AI-powered explanations.

The very pleasures of such men are uneasy and disquieted by alarms of various sorts, and at the very moment of rejoicing the anxious thought comes over them: How long will these things last?" This feeling has led kings to weep over the power they possessed, and they have not so much delighted in the greatness of their fortune, as they have viewed with terror the end to which it must some time come. When the King of Persia, in all the insolence of his pride, spread his army over the vast plains and could not grasp its number but simply its measure, he shed copious tears because inside of a hundred years not a man of such a mighty army would be alive. But he who wept was to bring upon them their fate, was to give some to their doom on the sea, some on the land, some in battle, some in flight, and within a short time was to destroy all those for whose hundredth year he had such fear. And why is it that even their joys are uneasy from fear? Because they do not rest on stable causes, but are perturbed as groundlessly as they are born. But of what sort do you think those times are which even by their own confession are wretched, since even the joys by which they are exalted and lifted above mankind are by no means pure? All the greatest blessings are a source of anxiety, and at no time is fortune less wisely trusted than when it is best; to maintain prosperity there is need of other prosperity, and in behalf of the prayers that have turned out well we must make still other prayers. For everything that comes to us from chance is unstable, and the higher it rises, the more liable it is to fall. Moreover, what is doomed to perish brings pleasure to no one; very wretched, therefore, and not merely short, must the life of those be who work hard to gain what they must work harder to keep. By great toil they attain what they wish, and with anxiety hold what they have attained; meanwhile they take no account of time that will never more return. New engrossments take the place of the old, hope leads to new hope, ambition to new ambition. They do not seek an end of their wretchedness, but change the cause. Have we been tormented by our own public honours? Those of others take more of our time. Have we ceased to labour as candidates? We begin to canvass for others. Have we got rid of the troubles of a prosecutor? We find those of a judge. Has a man ceased to be a judge? He becomes president of a court. Has he become infirm in managing the property of others at a salary? He is perplexed by caring for his own wealth. Have the barracks set Marius free? The consulship keeps him busy. Does Quintius hasten to get to the end of his dictatorship? He will be called back to it from the plough. Scipio will go against the Carthaginians before he is ripe for so great an undertaking; victorious over Hannibal, victorious over Antiochus, the glory of his own consulship, the surety for his brother's, did he not stand in his own way, he would be set beside Jove; but the discord of civilians will vex their preserver, and, when as a young man he had scorned honours that rivalled those of the gods, at length, when he is old, his ambition will take delight in stubborn exile. Reasons for anxiety will never be lacking, whether born of prosperity or of wretchedness; life pushes on in a succession of engrossments. We shall always pray for leisure, but never enjoy it.
On the Shortness of Life 17.1
The underlying Stoic issue here is the human tendency to be perpetually dissatisfied and anxious, even in the midst of great fortune and success. As Seneca notes, "All the greatest blessings are a source of anxiety, and at no time is fortune less wisely trusted than when it is best" (On the Shortness of Life 17.1). This reveals that our anxieties and fears are often rooted in the instability of external events, rather than any internal lack. This passage suggests that living well requires recognizing the impermanence of all things, including our own successes and possessions. We must learn to appreciate the present moment, rather than constantly striving for more or fearing loss. As Seneca observes, "Meanwhile they take no account of time that will never more return" (On the Shortness of Life 17.1). This reminds us to prioritize our values and focus on what truly matters, rather than getting caught up in the endless pursuit of wealth, status, or power. To apply this insight today, someone might reflect on their own values and priorities. What is truly important to them, and how can they allocate their time and energy accordingly? They might ask themselves, "What am I striving for, and is it truly worth the anxiety and effort?" By recognizing the impermanence of all things and focusing on what truly matters, we can begin to cultivate a sense of inner peace and contentment, even in the midst of uncertainty and change. As you consider this passage, you might ask yourself: What is one thing you can let go of today, in order to make space for what truly brings you fulfillment and joy?