“We must learn to endure what we cannot avoid. Our life is composed, like the harmony of the world, of contrary things, also of different tones, sweet and harsh, sharp and flat, soft and loud. If a musician liked only one kind, what would he have to say? He must know how to use them together and blend them. And so must we do with good and evil, which are consubstantial with our life. Our existence is impossible without this mixture, and one element is no less necessary for it than the other. To try to kick against natural necessity is to imitate the folly of Ctesiphon, who undertook a kicking match with his mule.” (Montaigne, Essays, tr. Donald Frame)
A Free Soma Without a Psyche
“Physicians have marked off a portion of their domain as psychosomatic medicine, thus giving the public the idea that whereas some diseases are altogether events of the soma or body, a few others regrettably stem from the psyche or mind. But no doctor has yet been found who ever saw a patient walk in as a free soma without a psyche, or vice versa. These simplifying doctrines suit our age, which seeks formulas for classification and control, faced as it is with a mass of men in unmanageable numbers and irreconcilable states of mind. Brainwashing, reconditioning by drugs or surgery, or in any other way forcibly manipulating behavior go with the theory of mechanical causation; each supports the other.” (Jacques Barzun, A Stroll with William James)
Secular Psalter
“As with the Psalter itself, the Odes have in them repetitions, inequalities, faults of matter and manner. Some of their contents seem unworthy of their place: mannered, uninspired, questionable in their use and their actual present value. Some we may think (but we had better think twice and thrice) we could well do without. We have to make allowances in both for religious or literary conventions; for Jewish narrowness and vindictiveness, for Roman coarseness. But both volumes have been taken to the heart of the world, and have become part of ourselves. It is interesting to remark that both have this note of intimacy, that the Psalms and the Odes, or at least the most familiar among them, are habitually referred to, not by their titles (for they have none), nor by their number in the series, but simply by their opening words. We do not usually speak of the 95th or 114th, the 127th or 130th Psalms, if we wish to be understood, but of the Venite, the Ju exitu Israel, the Nisi Dominus, the De profundis, And so with Horace one speaks familiarly of the Integer vitae, the Aeguam memento, the Eheu fugaces, the Otium divos. This secular Psalter, like its religious analogue, has to be supplemented, enlarged, reinterpreted, possibly even cut, for actual use, for application to our own daily life. But both, in their enormously different ways, are central and fundamental; permanent lights on life and aids to living.” (J. W. Mackail, Classical Studies)
Almost Always
“…no man or body of men has ever been wise enough to foresee and take account of all the factors affecting blanket measures designed for the improvement of incorporated humanity. Some contingency unnoticed, unlooked-for, perhaps even unforeknown, has always come in to give the measure a turn entirely foreign to its original intention; almost always a turn for the worse, sometimes for the better, but invariably different.” (Albert Jay Nock, Memoirs of a Superfluous Man)
Where to Bury Nuclear Waste
“About twenty years ago, NASA or some other American government agency was trying to decide where exactly to bury the nuclear waste that, as we know, remains radioactive for 10,000 years or something astronomical. Their problem was that even if they did find suitable land, how could they warn the people of the future not to enter it? Because after all, over the last 2,000 or 3,000 years we’ve lost the ability to decipher several languages. If in 5,000 years’ time, human beings have disappeared and new beings have arrived from outer space, how will we be able to signal to them that they mustn’t use or even walk on the land in question? The government agency gave linguist and anthropologist Tom Sebeok the job of creating a form of communication that could overcome these difficulties. Having examined all possible solutions, Sebeok concluded that there was no language, even pictorial, that was likely to be comprehensible outside the context that had given rise to it. We are unable to interpret the prehistoric figures we find in caves with any certainty. Even ideographic language may not be properly understood. According to him, the only possible solution would be to create religious brotherhoods and have them circulate a taboo like ‘Don’t touch such-and-such’ or ‘Don’t eat so-and-so.’ A taboo can be maintained over generations. I had another idea, but NASA weren’t paying me so I kept it to myself. It was to bury the nuclear waste in such a way that the first layer was very dilute and therefore not too radioactive, the second a little more radioactive, and so on. If this being accidentally stuck his hand – or whatever he used for a hand – into the waste, he would only lose a finger. But then, we can’t be sure that he would not have persisted.” (Umberto Eco, This is Not the End of the Book)
Where Maturity Prevails
“Children may be delightful, may be interesting, may be ever so full of promise, and one may be as fond of them as possible — and yet when one has them for warp and filling, one must get a bit bored with them now and then, in spite of oneself. I have had little to do with children, so I speak under correction; but I should imagine that one would become bored with their intense simplification of life, their tendency to drive the whole current of life noisily through one channel, their vehement reduction of all values to that of quantity, their inability to take any but a personal view of anything. But just these are the qualities of American civilization as indicated by the test of conversation… I can imagine, then, that one might in time come to be tired of them and to wish oneself in surroundings where man is accepted as a creature of ‘a large discourse, looking before and after,’ where life is admittedly more complex and its current distributed in more channels — in other words, where maturity prevails.” (Albert Jay Nock, The Decline of Conversation, 1928)
The Desire of Knowing Future Events
“The desire of knowing future events, is one of the strongest inclinations in the mind of man. Indeed, an ability of foreseeing probable accidents is what, in the language of men, is called wisdom and prudence: but, not satisfied with the light that reason holds out, mankind hath endeavoured to penetrate more compendiously into futurity. Magic, oracles, omens, lucky hours, and the various arts of superstition, owe their rise to this powerful cause. As this principle is founded in self-love, every man is sure to be solicitous in the first place about his own fortune, the course of his life, and the time and manner of his death. If we consider that we are free agents, we shall discover the absurdity of such inquiries. One of our actions, which we might have performed or neglected, is the cause of another that succeeds it, and so the whole chain of life is linked together. Pain, poverty, or infamy, are the natural product of vicious and imprudent acts; as the contrary blessings are of good ones; so that we cannot suppose our lot to be determined without impiety. A great enhancement of pleasure arises from its being unexpected; and pain is doubled by being foreseen. Upon all these, and several other accounts, we ought to rest satisfied in this portion bestowed on us; to adore the hand that hath fitted every thing to our nature, and hath not more displayed his goodness in our knowledge than in our ignorance. It is not unworthy observation, that superstitious inquiries into future events prevail more or less, in proportion to the improvement of liberal arts and useful knowledge in the several parts of the world. Accordingly, we find that magical incantations remain in Lapland; in the more remote parts of Scotland they have their second sight; and several of our own countrymen have seen abundance of fairies. In Asia this credulity is strong; and the greatest part of refined learning there consists in the knowledge of amulets, talismans, occult numbers, and he like.” (Joseph Addison, The Spectator, Oct. 8, 1714)
Horace’s Carpe Diem
Translated by Francis Manning, 1701:
Desist, fond Man, nor seek to know
What end the Gods for Thee ordain,
Such vain enquiries do but shew
The way to live in endless Pain.Since Human Life at best is short,
And all that doth on That depend;
Since Friends must from their Friends depart,
And all things seek their destin’d end.Why should we so disturb our Minds
About the various Scenes of Death;
Or by what method Fate designs
To make us render up our Breath?How doth it serve the use of Life
To know the limits of our State?
Less curious Minds are less at strife,
Foreknowing not the time of Fate.Live freely whilst thy Hours do last,
‘Tis Wisdom in so short a space:
Forget the Pleasures that are past,
Nor hopes of longer life embrace.Whilst we are talking, envious Time
Is far advanc’d upon the Wing.
Enjoy to Day without a Crime,
Nor think of what the next will bring.
Horace’s Carpe Diem
Translated by Samuel Rogers, 1764.
Consult no astrologic quack
To know the number of your years,
Nor your deluded fancy wrack
With short-liv’d hopes and idle fears.He’s happier far, whose will agrees
With fortune’s, whatsoe’er it be;
Can die to-day, if fortune please,
Or plod thro’ dull mortality.With eager haste then seize to day,
Nor once reflect on future sorrow:
Ev’n while we talk time posts away,
And warns us not to trust to-morrow.
Three Translations of Ode II.10
Translated by Hugh Macnaghten (1926).
Licinius, if you think with me,
You’ll steer not always out to sea,
Nor hug the treacherous shore, for fear
A storm be near.The man who loves the golden mean,
A house not weatherproof nor clean
Shuns, and is safe: shuns, wise withal,
The envied hall.The giant pine feels most of all
The many winds, high towers that fall
Fall heaviest, the lightning seeks
The mountain peeks.Well-schooled the mind, when troubles press,
Expects a change; in happiness,
Knows it may come. God summons here
The winter drear,Then drives it hence. What’s ill to-day
May turn to good. ‘Tis Phoebus’ way
Sometimes to wake the Muse, not bend
His bows sans end.In straits of fortune steel your heart
And smile. ‘Tis also wisdom’s part,
Lest that good wind become a gale,
To shorten sail.
Translated by Alexander William Mair (1929).
Ah! in the voyage of life, my friend,
Be wise nor tempt the open ocean
Too boldly nor, to shun the wind,
Hug thou the shore with dangerous caution.
The Golden Mean who still prefers
Doth neither in a cabin smother
Nor, in a palace dwelling, stirs
The envy of a humbler brother.
Upon the soaring pine-tree wreaks
The storm its fury, sorer tumbles
The high-built tower, the mountain peaks
Most suffer when the thunder rumbles.
When Fortune frowns, the prudent man
Still nurses hope; when Fortune flatters,
He fears lest blessing change to ban;
And when the bitter rainstorm patters,
He knows that that same God who sent
To-day the tempest for our sorrow,
Shall when it pleases him relent,
The sun may shine again to-morrow,
And not for evermore in ire
With bended bow Apollo scourges,
But takes anon his golden lyre
And the dumb strings to music urges.
When things are dark, the wise man shows
Neath Fortune’s blows a front unbending,
And when the wind too favouring blows
He shortens sail with timely tending.
Translated by J. S. Blake-Reed (1942).
Wisely your bark, Licinius, steer
Not where the deepest ocean rolls;
Nor, over-cautious, sail too near
The treacherous shoals.Whoe’er the golden mean pursues,
To live secure from envy’s eye
Nor sordid hut for home will choose
Nor palace high.The tallest pines the tempest’s might
Assails; high towers with heavier crash
Will fall; the loftiest hills invite
The lightning flash.Caution in weal and hope in ill
The steadfast bosom still will learn;
Jove sends the gloomy winters, — still
The springs return.Dark days a brighter dawn succeeds;
Ofttimes Apollo tunes his lyre,
Unbends his bow and jocund leads
The Muses’ choir.Undaunted still by want or grief,
When Fortune with too prosperous gale
Your bark impels, be wise and reef
Your swelling sail.
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