Marcus Aurelius · a new plain-English translation from the original language
From my father: gentleness, and an unshakable adherence to decisions reached after careful examination; no vanity over what passes for honors; love of work and persistence; readiness to listen to anyone who had something to contribute to the common good; an unwavering commitment to giving each person what he deserved; practical knowledge of where effort was needed and where relaxation; an end to the love affairs with boys; his sense of community, and the way he released his friends from any obligation to dine with him always or to travel with him — those left behind by some necessity always found him unchanged toward them; his exacting and persistent way of examining questions in council, never breaking off the inquiry early and settling for the first impressions at hand; his constancy in keeping friends, never growing tired of them nor infatuated with them; his self-sufficiency in everything, and his cheerfulness; his foresight reaching far ahead, and his quiet management of even the smallest matters, without theatrics; how in his reign acclamations and every kind of flattery were suppressed; his constant watchfulness over what the empire needed, his careful stewardship of its resources, and his patience under the blame this sometimes brought.
And this too: no superstition toward the gods, and toward men no crowd-pleasing, no currying favor, no playing to the mob — instead sobriety in everything, and steadiness, and never any vulgarity or love of novelty. As for the things that make life comfortable, of which fortune gave him abundance, he used them without arrogance and without apology — enjoying them naturally when they were present, and feeling no need for them when they were absent. No one could ever call him a sophist, or a house-slave-made-good, or a pedant — but a man mature, complete, immune to flattery, capable of governing both his own affairs and those of others. Beyond this, his respect for genuine philosophers, without reproaching the rest, and without being easily led by them either; and further, his ease in company, his charm that never cloyed; his moderate care for his own body, neither like a man in love with life nor for the sake of appearance, nor yet careless of it — so that through his own attentiveness he needed medical treatment or drugs and dressings only rarely. And above all, his readiness to yield without envy to those who possessed some particular ability, such as skill in speaking or expert knowledge of laws or customs or other such matters, and his eagerness to join in supporting them, so that each might win recognition according to his own strengths.
He did everything according to ancestral custom, yet without making a show even of this — of guarding ancestral custom. He was not one to shift about or dart from place to place, but stayed put, dwelling on the same places and the same matters. After his bouts of headache he would turn at once, fresh and vigorous, to his usual work. He had very few secrets, and those very rare, and only ever concerning public affairs. He showed good sense and moderation in staging public shows, in building projects, in distributions of money, and such things — the conduct of a man who looks to what needs doing, not to the reputation that comes from having done it. He did not bathe at odd hours, he had no passion for building, he gave no special thought to his food, or to the weave and color of his clothes, or to the beauty of his slaves. His country dress came up from his villa below; his tunic at Lanuvium was plain for the most part; the way he once declined the cloak at Tusculum, apologizing for it, and every such trait of his. There was nothing harsh in him, nothing shameless, nothing violent, nothing that would ever make anyone say "this goes too far" — everything was measured out and reasoned through as if there were all the time in the world, calmly, in order, with strength, in harmony with itself.
What is remembered of Socrates would fit him well — that he was able both to abstain from and to enjoy those things which most people are too weak to abstain from and too indulgent in enjoying. To be strong, and to endure, and to stay sober in either case, is the mark of a man with a soul that is whole and unconquerable — such as he showed in the illness of Maximus.