Marcus Aurelius · a new plain-English translation from the original language
At dawn, when you are reluctant to get up, let this thought be ready at hand: I am rising to do the work of a human being. Why then am I irritated, if I am setting out to do what I was born for and what I was brought into the world to do? Or was I made for this, to lie warm under the covers? "But this is more pleasant." So were you born for pleasure — altogether for being acted upon, and not for action? Do you not see the little plants, the little sparrows, the ants, the spiders, the bees doing their own work, each putting together its own share of the world's order? And then are you unwilling to do the work proper to a human being? Do you not run toward what accords with your own nature? "But one must also rest." I agree — yet nature has set a measure for that too, just as it has set a measure for eating and drinking; and yet you go beyond the measure, beyond what is enough, while in your actions you no longer do so, but stay within what is possible. For you do not love yourself — otherwise you would love your nature too, and its will. But those who love their own crafts wear themselves down over the works of those crafts, unwashed and unfed; you honor your own nature less than the engraver honors engraving, the dancer dancing, the miser his money, or the vain man his little glory. And these people, when they are absorbed in something, are unwilling to eat or sleep rather than build up the things they are devoted to; yet do the actions of fellowship seem to you cheaper and worth less effort?