"Discourses" - читать интересную книгу автора (Epictetus)

since these two things are mingled in the generation of man, body in
common with the animals, and reason and intelligence in common with
the gods, many incline to this kinship, which is miserable and mortal;
and some few to that which is divine and happy. Since then it is of
necessity that every man uses everything according to the opinion
which he has about it, those, the few, who think that they are
formed for fidelity and modesty and a sure use of appearances have
no mean or ignoble thoughts about themselves; but with the many it
is quite the contrary. For they say, "What am I? A poor, miserable
man, with my wretched bit of flesh." Wretched. Indeed; but you possess
something better than your "bit of flesh." Why then do you neglect
that which is better, and why do you attach yourself to this?

Through this kinship with the flesh, some of us inclining to it
become like wolves, faithless and treacherous and mischievous: some
become like lions, savage and untamed; but the greater part of us
become foxes and other worse animals. For what else is a slanderer and
a malignant man than a fox, or some other more wretched and meaner
animal? See, then, and take care that you do not become some one of
these miserable things.

CHAPTER 4

Of progress or improvement

He who is making progress, having learned from philosophers that
desire means the desire of good things, and aversion means aversion
from bad things; having learned too that happiness and tranquillity
are not attainable by man otherwise than by not failing to obtain what
he desires, and not falling into that which he would avoid; such a man
takes from himself desire altogether and defers it, but he employs his
aversion only on things which are dependent on his will. For if he
attempts to avoid anything independent of his will, he knows that
sometimes he will fall in with something which he wishes to avoid, and
he will be unhappy. Now if virtue promises good fortune and
tranquillity and happiness, certainly also the progress toward
virtue is progress toward each of these things. For it is always
true that to whatever point the perfecting of anything leads us,
progress is an approach toward this point.

How then do we admit that virtue is such as I have said, and yet
seek progress in other things and make a display of it? What is the
product of virtue? Tranquillity. Who then makes improvement? It is
he who has read many books of Chrysippus? But does virtue consist in
having understood Chrysippus? If this is so, progress is clearly
nothing else than knowing a great deal of Chrysippus. But now we admit
that virtue produces one thing. and we declare that approaching near
to it is another thing, namely, progress or improvement. "Such a
person," says one, "is already able to read Chrysippus by himself."
Indeed, sir, you are making great progress. What kind of progress? But