A thinking reed. —It is not from space that I must seek my dignity， but from the government of my thought. I shall have no more if I possess worlds. By space the universe encompasses and swallows me up like an atom； by thought I comprehend the world.
Immateriality of the soul. —Philosophers who have mastered their passions. What matter could do that？
The stoics. —They conclude that what has been done once can be done always， and that， since the disire of glory imparts some power to those whom it possesses， others can do likewise. There are feverish movements which health cannot imitate.
Epictetus concludes that， since there are consistent Christians， every man can easily be so.
Those great spiritual efforts， which the soul sometimes assays， are things on which it does not lay hold. It only leaps to them not as upon a throne， for ever， but merely for an instant.
The strength of a man’s virtue must not be measured by his efforts， but by his ordinary life.
I do not admire the excess of a virtue as of valour， except I see at the same time the excess of the opposite virtue， as in Epaminondas， who had the greatest valour and the greatest kindness. For otherwise it is not to rise， it is to fall. We do not display greatness by going to one extreme， but in touching both at once， and filling all the intervening space. But perhaps this is only a sudden movement of the soul from one to the other extreme， and in fact it is ever at one point only， as in the case of a firebrand. Be it so， but at least this indicates agility if not expanse of soul.
Man’s nature is not always to advance； it has its advances and retreats.
Fever has its cold and hot fits； and the cold proves as well as the hot the greatness of the fire of fever.
The discoveries of men from age to age turn out the same. The kindness and the malice of the world in general are the same. Plerumque gratae principibus vices. aContinuous eloquence wearies.
Princes and kings sometimes play. They are not always on their thrones. They weary there. Grandeur must be abandoned to be appreciated. Continuity in everything is unpleasant. Cold is agreeable， that we may get warm.
Nature acts by progress， itus et reditus. It goes and returns， then advances further， then twice as much backwards， then more forward than ever， etc.
The tide of the sea behaves in the same manner； and so， apparently， does the sun in its course.
The nourishment of the body is little by little. Fullness of nourishment and smallness of substance.
When we would pursue virtues to their extremes on either side， vices present themselves， which insinuate themselves insensibly there， in their insensible journey towards the infinitely little； and vices present themselves in a crowd towards the infinitely great， so that we lose ourselves in them and no longer see virtues. We find fault with perfection itself.
Man is neither angel nor brute， and the unfortunate thing is that he who would act the angel acts the brute.
We do not sustain ourselves in virtue by our own strength， but by the balancing of two opposed vices， just as we remain upright amidst two contrary gales. Remove one of the vices， and we fall into the other.
a Horace， Odes， III. xxix. 13. “Changes nearly always please the great.”
17
What I Have Lived For
我为什么而活着
Three passions， simple but overwhelmingly strong， have governed my life： the longing for love， the search for knowledge， and unbearable pity for the suffering of mankind. These passions， like great winds， have blown me hither and thither， in a wayward course， over a deep ocean of anguish， reaching to the very verge of despair.
I have sought love， first， because it brings ecstasy—ecstasy so great that I would have sacrificed all the rest of life for a few hours of this joy. I have sought it， next， because it relieves loneliness—that terrible loneliness in which one shivering consciousness looks over the rim of the world into cold unfathomable lifeless abyss. I have sought it， finally， because in the union of love I have seen， in a mystic， miniature， the prefiguring vision of the heaven that saints and poets have imagined. This is what l sought， and though it might seem too good for human life， this is what—at last—I have found.
With equal passion I have sought knowledge. I have wished to understand the hearts of men. I have wished to know why the stars shine. And l have tried to apprehend the Pythagorean power by which number holds away above the flux. A little of this， but not much. I have achieved.
Love and knowledge， so far as they were possible， led upward toward the heavens. But always pity brought me back to earth. Echoes of cries of pain reverberated in my heart. Children in famine， victims tortured by oppressors. helpless old people a hated burden to their sons， and the wholeworld of loneliness， poverty， and pain make a mockery of what human life should be. I long to alleviate the evil， but I cannot. and I too suffer.
This has been my life. I have found it worth living， and I would gladly live it again if the chance were offered to me.
18
The Essays of Montaigne
热爱生命
I have a special vocabulary of my own； I “pass away time，”when it is ill and uneasy， but when ‘tis good I do not pass it away： “I taste it over again and adhere to it”； one must run over the ill and settle upon the good. This ordinary phrase of pastime， and passing away the time， represents the usage of those wise sort of people who think they cannot do better with their lives than to let them run out and slide away， pass them over， and baulk them， and， as much as they can， ignore them and shun them as a thing of troublesome and contemptible quality： but I know it to be another kind of thing， and find it both valuable and commodious， even in its latest decay， wherein I now enjoy it； and nature has delivered it into our hands in such and so favourable circumstances that we have only ourselves to blame if it be troublesome to us， or escapes us unprofitably：