Book 1
1
What resource have we, then, upon such occasions? Why, what else but to distinguish between what is ours, and what not ours,—what is right, and what is wrong? I must die, and must I die groaning too? I must be fettered; must I be lamenting too? I must be exiled; and what hinders me, then, but that I may go smiling, and cheerful, and serene? Betray a secret. I will not betray it, for this is in my own power. Then I will fetter you. What do you say, man? Fetter me? You will fetter my leg, but not Zeus himself can get the better of my free will. I will throw you into prison; I will behead that paltry body of yours. Did I ever tell you that I alone had a head not liable to be cut off? These things ought philosophers to study; these ought they daily to write, and in these to exercise themselves.
