Seneca · a new plain-English translation from the Latin
[1] Why do you look around at things that might happen to you but might just as easily not? I mean fires, collapsing buildings, and other things that befall us — they don't lie in wait for us. Look instead at the things that do watch us, that do stalk us: those are the ones to guard against. Accidents, even serious ones — shipwreck, being thrown from a carriage — are rare. But danger from one human being to another is a daily occurrence. Arm yourself against this, keep your eyes fixed on this; there is no evil more common, none more persistent, none more ingratiating. [2] A storm gives warning before it rises, buildings creak before they collapse, smoke announces a fire in advance. But ruin at the hands of a man comes suddenly, and the closer it gets, the more carefully it is hidden. You are wrong to trust the faces of the people you meet: they have the outward form of men, but the souls of wild beasts — except that with beasts, the first attack is the dangerous one; once they have passed you by, they don't come looking for you. Beasts are never driven to do harm except by necessity — hunger or fear forces them into the fight. But a man takes pleasure in destroying another man. [3] Still, think about the danger that comes from a human being in such a way that you also think about what a human being's duty is. Watch the one so that you aren't harmed, and watch the other so that you don't do harm. Rejoice in everyone's good fortune, be moved by everyone's misfortune, and remember what you owe and what you must guard against. [4] Living this way, what do you achieve? Not that people won't harm you, but that they won't deceive you. As far as you can, retreat into philosophy: she will shelter you in her lap, and in her sanctuary you will be safe, or at least safer. People don't collide unless they are walking the same road. [5] But you should not flaunt philosophy itself; handled arrogantly and defiantly, it has been the cause of danger for many. Let it strip away your own faults, not reproach others for theirs. It should not recoil from ordinary custom, nor act as though it condemns whatever it does not itself do. One can be wise without ostentation, without arousing envy. Farewell.