If therefore whensoever the time of thy departing shall come, thou shalt readily leave all things, and shalt respect thy mind only, and that divine part of thine, and this shall be thine only fear, not that some time or other thou shalt cease to live, but thou shalt never begin to live according to nature : then shalt thou be a man indeed, worthy of that world, from which thou hadst thy beginning; then shalt thou cease to be a stranger in thy country, and to wonder at those things that happen daily, as things strange and unexpected, and anxiously to depend of divers things that are not in thy power.
[tr. Casaubon (1634)]

If, since your Life is almost up, you lay aside all other Matters, and only Cultivate your Mind, and pay a Regard to the Governing , and Diviner part of your self: If you are not at all afraid of losing your Life, but of Missing the Ends on't, and not Living as you should do; Then you'l act suitably to your Extraction, and deserve to have the Deity for your Maker: Then you'l be no longer a stranger in your own Country , nor be surpriz'd at common Accidents; you'll ne'er be anxious about the Future, nor stand to the Courtesy of Events.
[tr. Collier (1701)]

If, therefore, now that you are near your exit, you quit thought about other things, and honour only that governing and divine part within you, and dread not the ceasing to live, but the not commencing to live according to nature; you will become a man, worthy of that orderly universe which produced you, and will cease to be as a stranger in your own country; both astonished, with what happens every day, as if unexpected; and in anxious suspence about this and t’other thing.
[tr. Hutcheson/Moor (1742)]

If then, as you are now on the verge of life, you lay aside all other cares, and dedicate your whole attention to the improvement of your mind, and pay a due respect to the Deity within you, and fear less to die than not to live according to nature; you will, by this means, become worthy of that Universal Nature which produced you, and will no longer be a stranger in your own country; and will cease to be surprized at what happens every day, as if it were something extraordinary; nor be anxious and in suspense about the common events of life.
[tr. Graves (1792)]

If, then, whatever the time may be when thou shalt be near to thy departure, neglecting everything else thou shalt respect only thy ruling faculty and the divinity within thee, and if thou shalt be afraid not because thou must some time cease to live, but if thou shalt fear never to have begun to live according to nature -- then thou wilt be a man worthy of the universe which has produced thee, and thou wilt cease to be a stranger in thy native land, and to wonder at things which happen daily as if they were something unexpected, and to be dependent on this or that.
[tr. Long (1862)]

If, since your life is almost up, you lay aside all other matters, and only cultivate your mind, and pay a regard to the governing and diviner part of yourself; if you are not at all afraid of losing your life, but only of never beginning to live in accordance with nature, then you will act suitably to your extraction, and deserve to be the offspring of the universe; then you will be no longer a stranger in your own country, nor surprised at common accidents; you will never be dependent on this or that.
[tr. Collier/Zimmern (1887)]

If then, now that you near your end, leaving all else alone, you will reverence only your Inner Self and the god within, if you will fear not life some time coming to an end, but never beginning life at all in accord with nature's law, then indeed you will be a man, worthy of the universe that begat you, and no more a stranger to your fatherland, ever in amaze at the unexpectedness of what each day brings forth, and hanging upon this event or that.
[tr. Rendall (1898)]

If then, now that you are near your exit, setting behind you all other things, you will hold alone in reverence your ruling part, the spirit divine within you; if you will cease to dread the end of life, but rather fear to miss the beginning of life according to Nature, you will be a man, worthy of the ordered Universe that produced you; you will cease to be a stranger in your own country, gaping in wonder at every daily happening, caught up by this trifle or by that.
[tr. Hutcheson/Chrystal (1902)]

If then, when the time of thy departure is near, abandoning all else thou prize thy ruling Reason alone and that which in thee is divine, and dread the thought, not that thou must one day cease to live, but that thou shouldst never yet have begun to live according to Nature, then shalt thou be a man worthy of the Universe that begat thee, and no longer an alien in thy fatherland, no longer shalt thou marvel at what happens every day as if it were unforeseen, and be dependent on this or that.
[tr. Haines (Loeb) (1916)]

If then, when you arrive at last at your final exit, resigning all else, you honour your governing self alone and the divine element within you, if what you dread is not that some day you will cease to live, but rather never to begin at all to live with Nature, you will be a man worthy of the Universe that gave you birth, and will cease to be a stranger in your own country, surprised by what is coming to pass every day, as at something you did not look to see, and absorbed in this thing or in that.
[tr. Farquharson (1944)]

If then, when the time for your departure draws near, you have put all else behind you and you honour your governing faculty alone and what is divine within you, and if what you hold in fear is not that some day you will cease to live, but rather that you may never begin go live according to nature, you will be a person who is worthy of the universe that brought you to birth, and you will no longer be a stranger in your native land, wondering at what happens day after day as if it were beyond foreseeing, and in thrall to one thing and the next.
[tr. Hard (1997 ed.)]

And if, when it’s time to depart, you shunt everything aside except your mind and the divinity within ... if it isn’t ceasing to live that you’re afraid of but never beginning to live properly ... then you’ll be worthy of the world that made you.
No longer an alien in your own land.
No longer shocked by everyday events—as if they were unheard-of aberrations.
No longer at the mercy of this, or that.
[tr. Hays (2003)]

If, then, when you finally come close to your exit, you have left all else behind and value only your directing mind and the divinity within you, if your fear is not that you will cease to live, but that you never started a life in accordance with nature, then you will be a man worthy of the universe that gave you birth. You will no longer be a stranger in your own country, no longer meet the day’s events as if bemused by the unexpected, no longer hang on this or that.
[tr. Hammond (2006), 12.2]

But if, when you have come to the end, having let go of all other things, you honor only your guiding part and the divinity that is within you, and you do not fear ceasing to live so much as you fear never having begun to live in accordance with Nature -- then you will be a man who is worthy of the Cosmos that created you; and you will cease to live like a stranger in your own land, that is, surprised at unexpected everyday occurrences and wholly distracted by this and that.
[tr. Needleman/Piazza (2008)]

If then, when the time for your departure draws near, you have put all else behind you and you honour your ruling centre alone and what is divine within you, and if what you hold in fear is not that some day you will cease to live, but rather that you may never begin to live according to nature, you will be a man who is worthy of the universe that brought you to birth, and you will no longer be a stranger in your native land, wondering at what happens day after day as if it were beyond foreseeing, and hanging on to one thing after another.
[tr. Hard (2011 ed.)]

Hark ye Friend; you have been a Burgher of this Great City; what's matter tho' you have lived in't but a few Years; if you have observ'd the Laws of the Corporation, the length or shortness of the Time, makes no difference.
[tr. Collier (1701)]

You have lived, O man, as a denizen of this great state: Of what consequence to you, whether it be only for five years? What is according to the laws, is equal and just to all.
[tr. Hutcheson/Moor (1742)]

O! my friend, you have lived a citizen of this great commonwealth, the world; of what consequence is it to you, whether you have lived precisely five years or not? What is according to the laws of the community, is equal and just to all.
[tr. Graves (1792)]

Man, thou hast been a citizen in this great state [the world]; what difference does it make to thee whether for five years [or three]? for that which is conformable to the laws is just for all.
[tr. Long (1862)]

Hark ye friend; you have been a burgher of this great city, what matter though you have lived in it five years or three; if you have observed the laws of the corporation, the length or shortness of the time makes no difference.
[tr. Collier/Zimmern (1887)]

Man, you have been a citizen of the great world city. Five years or fifty, what matters it? To every man his due, as law allots.
[tr. Rendall (1898)]

You have lived, O man, as a citizen of this great city; of what consequence to you whether for five years or for three? What comes by law is fair to all.
[tr. Hutcheson/Chrystal (1902)]

Man, thou hast been a citizen in this World-City, what matters it to thee if for five years or a hundred? For under its laws equal treatment is meted out to all.
[tr. Haines (Loeb) (1916)]

Mortal man, you have been a citizen in this great City; what does it matter to you whether for five or fifty years? For what is according to its laws is equal for every man.
[tr. Farquharson (1944)]

O man, citizenship of this great world-city has been yours. Whether for five years or fivescore, what is that to you? Whatever the law of that city decrees is fair to one and all alike.
[tr. Staniforth (1964)]

My friend, you have been a citizen of this great city [of the universe]. What difference if you live in it for five years or a hundred? For what is laid down in its laws is equitable for all.
[tr. Hard (1997 ed.; 2011 ed.)]

You've lived as a citizen in a great city. Five years or a hundred -- what's the difference? The laws make no distinction.
[tr. Hays (2003)]

Mortal man, you have lived as a citizen in this great city. What matter if that life is five or fifty years? The laws of the city apply equally to all.
[tr. Hammond (2006)]

Man, you have been a citizen in this world city; what does it matter whether for five years or fifty? [...]
[tr. Oxford Dictionary of Quotations (2004)]

You live through that little piece of time that is yours, but that piece of time is not only your own life, it is the summing-up of all the other lives that are simultaneous with yours. [...] What you are is an expression of History.

That is what I have heard said, but we have to try to make sense of what we have lived, or what has lived us, and there are so many questions that cry for an answer, as children gather about your knee and cry for a sweetmeat. No, it would be better to change the comparison and say it is like children gathering about your knee to cry for a story, a bedtime story, and if you can tell the right story, then these children, then these questions, will sleep, and you can, too.

Why, O Gish, does thou run about?
The life that thou seekest, thou wilt not find.
when the gods created mankind,
Death they imposed on mankind;
Life they kept in their power.
Thou, O Gish, fill thy belly,
Day and night do you rejoice,
Daily make a rejoicing!
Day and night a renewal of jollification!
Let thy clothes be clean,
Wash thy head and pour water over thee!
Care for the little one who takes hold of thy hand!
Let the wife rejoice in thy bosom!
[tr. Jastrow/Clay (1920)]

Gilgamesh, where are you hurrying to? You will never find the life for which you are looking. When the gods created man they allotted to him death, but life they retained in their own keeping. As for you, Gilgamesh, fill your belly with good things; day and night, night and day, dance and be merry, feast and rejoice. Let your clothes be fresh, bathe yourself in water, cherish the little child that holds your hand, and make your wife happy in your embrace; for this too is the lot of man.
[tr. Sandars (1960)]

Gilgamesh, where are you wandering? The life that you are seeking all around you will not find. When the gods created mankind they fixed Death for mankind, and held back Life in their own hands. Now you, Gilgamesh, let your belly be full! Be happy day and night, of each day make a party, dance in circles day and night! Let your clothes be sparkling clean, let your head be clean, wash yourself with water! Attend to the little one who holds onto your hand, let a wife delight in your embrace. This is the [true] task of mankind.
[tr. Kovacs (1989)]

[...] Remember always, mighty king, that gods decreed the fate of all many years ago. They alone are let to be eternal, while we frail humans die as you yourself must someday do. What is best for us to do now to sing and dance. Relish warm food and cool drinks. Cherish children to whom your love gives life. Bathe easily, in sweet, refreshing waters. Play joyfully with your chosen wife. It is the will of the gods for you to smile on simple pleasure in the leisure time of your short days.
[tr. Jackson (1997)]

[...] But you, Gilgamesh, let your belly be full,
enjoy yourself always by day and by night!
Make merry each day,
dance and play day and night!
Let your clothes be clean,
let your head be washed, may you bathe in water!
Gaze on the child who holds your hand,
let your wife enjoy your repeated embrace!
[tr. George (1999)]

What you want, you cannot have. You will not find a life that does not die. When maknind was created by the gods, they kept undying life for themselve; they gave death to man.
So, Gilgamesh, fill your stomach. Enjoy yourself. Take pleasure every day and every night in every way you can. Play. Dance. Refresh yourself with baths. Wash your hair. Put on clean clothes. Take your child's hand in yours and take your wife on your lap. That is life.
[tr. Harris (2001)]

Thy constant grief shall never cease; nor mild
Thy life shall ever be if thou persist
Upon this foolish quest; thy deeds resist
The will of heaven's way's the gods bestowed
On us the ways of death with sorrow owed
To every living man; the gods reserved
Eternal life for their delight; -- unnerved
By this? This is the scheme of things, -- accept
Thy lot; enjoy the sun, thy children kept
In later years, and fleeting life today;
Remove thy needless burden; come what may.
[tr. Watson (2023)]

The life of the dead is placed in the memory of the living.
[ed. Hoyt (1896)]

For the life of the dead consists in the recollection cherished of them by the living.
[tr. Yonge (1903)]

The dead live in the memory of the living.
[ed. Harbottle (1906)]

For the life of the dead is set in the memory of the living.
[tr. Ker (Loeb) (1926)]

For the life of the dead lies in the memory of the living.
[tr. Manuwald (2007)]

My arte and profession, is to live. Who forbids mee to speake of it, according to my sense, experience, and custome? Let him appoint the Architect to speake of buildings, not according to himselfe, but his neighbours, according to anothers skill, and not his owne.
[tr. Florio (1603)]

My art and business is to live. He that forbids me to speak according to my own sense, experience, and practice, may as well enjoin an architect to speak of buildings not in his own style, but in his neighbour's; not according to his own science, but according to another man's.
[tr. Cotton (1686)]

My trade and art is to live; he that forbids me to speak according to my own sense, experience, and practice, may as well enjoin an architect not to speak of building according to his own knowledge, but according to that of his neighbor; according to the knowledge of another, and not according to his own.
[tr. Cotton/Hazlitt (1877)]

My profession and my art is living. Whoever forbids me to speak of this according to my perceptions, experience, and habit, let him bid the architect talk about buildings, not according to his own ideas, but according to those of his neighbour; according to another's knowledge, not according to his own.
[tr. Ives (1925)]

My trade and my art is to live. He that forbids me to speak of it according to my own sense, experience, and practice, let him command an architect to speak of buildings not in his own style but his neighbour's, according to another man's knowledge, not according to his own.
[tr. Zeitlin (1934)]

My trade and my art is living. He who forbids me to speak about it according to my sense, experience, and practice, let him order the architect to speak of buildings not according to himself but according to his neighbor; according to another man’s knowledge, not according to his own.
[tr. Frame (1943)]

Living is my job and my art.
[ed. Rat (1958)]

Living is my work, and my art. Let anyone who forbids me to speak of it according to my understanding, experience, and practice order an architect to speak of his buildings according, not to himself, but to his neighbor; according to his knowledge, not his own.
[tr. Atkinson/Sices (2012)]

The profit of life consistes not in the space, but rather in the use. Some man hath lived long, that hath had a short life. Follow it whilst you have time. It consists not in number of yeares, but in your will, that you have lived long enough.
[tr. Florio (1603)]

Neither does the Utility of living consist in the length of days, but in the well husbanding and improving of Time, and such an one may have been who has longer continued in the World than the ordinary Age of Man; that has yet liv’d but a little while. Make use of Time while it is present with you. It depends upon your Will, and not upon the number of Days, to have a sufficient length of Life.
[tr. Cotton (1686)]

The benefit of life consists not in the space, but in the use of it. Such a one may have lived a long time who yet may be said to have enjoyed but a short life. Give attention to time while it is present with you. It depends upon your will and not upon the nujmber of years that you have lived long enough.
[tr. Friswell (1868)]

The utility of living consists not in the length of days, but in the use of time; a man may have lived long, and yet lived but a little. Make use of time while it is present with you. It depends upon your will, and not upon the number of days, to have a sufficient length of life.
[tr. Cotton/Hazlitt (1877)]

The usefulness of living is not in length of time, but in its use. A man may have lived long who has lived little. Look well to life whilst you are in life. It depends on your will, not on the number of your years, whether you ahve loved long enough.
[tr. Ives (1925)]

Wherever your life ends, it is all there. “The advantage of living is not measured by length, but by use; some men have lived long, and lived little; attend to it while you are in it. It lies in your will, not in the number of years, for you to have lived enough.
[tr. Frame (1943)]

The value of life lies not in the length of days but in the use you make of them; he has lived for a long time who has little lived. Whether you have lived enough depends not on the number of your years but on your will.
[tr. Rat (1958), 1.20]

The usefulness of living lies not in duration but in what you make of it. Some have lived long and lived little. See to it while you are still here. Whether you have lived enough depends not on a count of years but on your will.
[tr. Screech (1987)]

Life is worth not its extent but its use. Some lived little who lived a long while. Pay attention to life while you live yours. Whether you have lived enough depends on your will, not on a number of years.
[tr. HyperEssays (2025)]

It is nothing to die; it is frightful not to live.
[tr. Wilbour (1862)]

It is nothing to die, but it is frightful not to live.
[tr. Wraxall (1862)]

It is nothing to die; it is dreadful not to live.
[tr. Hapgood (1887)]

To die is nothing; but it is terrible not to live.
[tr. Denny (1976)]

It’s nothing to die. It’s dreadful not to live.
[tr. Donougher (2013)]

What art thou, that better and divine part excepted, but as Epictetus said well, a wretched soul, appointed to carry a carcass up and down?
[tr. Casaubon (1634), 4.33]

Would you know what you are? Epictetus will tell you that you are a Living Soul, that drags a Carcass about with her.
[tr. Collier (1701)]

“Thou art a poor spirit, carrying a dead carcase about with thee,” says Epictetus.
[tr. Hutcheson/Moor (1742)]

As to your own being, "It is a living soul, that bears about with it a lifeless carcass," as Epictetus expresses it.
[tr. Graves (1792), 4.33]

Thou art a little soul bearing about a corpse, as Epictetus used to say.
[tr. Long (1862)]

You are a little soul carrying a dead body, as Epictetus said.
[tr. Long (1890), frag. 176]

Epictetus will tell you that you are a living soul, that drags a corpse about with her.
[tr. Collier/Zimmern (1887)]

What am I? "A poor soul, laden with a corpse" -- said Epictetus.
[tr. Rendall (1898)]

“Thou art a poor soul, saddled with a corpse,” said Epictetus.
[tr. Hutcheson/Chrystal (1902)]

You are a little soul, carrying a corpse, as Epictetus used to say.
[tr. Matheson (1916)]

Thou art a little soul bearing up a corpse, as Epictetus said.
[tr. Haines (Loeb) (1916)]

You are a little soul, carrying around a corpse, as Epictetus used to say.
[tr. Oldfather (Loeb) (1928)]

You are a spirit bearing the weight of a dead body, as Epictetus used to say.
[tr. Farquharson (1944)]

"A poor soul burdened with a corpse," Epictetus calls you.
[tr. Staniforth (1964)]

"You are a little soul carrying a corpse around," as Epictetus used to say.
[tr. Hard (1997 ed.)]

“A little wisp of soul carrying a corpse.” -- Epictetus.
[tr. Hays (2003)]

You are a soul carrying a corpse, as Epictetus used to say.
[tr. Hammond (2006)]

You are a bit of soul carrying around a dead body, as Epictetus used to say.
[tr. Dobbin (2008)]

You are a little soul carrying a corpse around, as Epictetus used to say.
[tr. Hard (2011; 2014)]

You're a pathetic little soul sustaining a corpse, as Epictetus used to say.
[tr. Waterfield (2012)]

Of a surety I have now set my feet on that point of life, beyond the which he must not pass who would return.
[tr. Rossetti (c. 1847; 1899 ed.)]

I have set my foot in that part of life, to pass beyond which with purpose to return is impossible.
[tr. Martin (1862)]

I have held my feet on that part of life beyond which no man can go with intent to return.
[tr. Norton (1867)]

I have placed my feet on those boundaries of life beyond which no one can go further and hope to return.
[tr. Musa (1971)]

I have just set foot on that boundary of life beyond which no one can go, hoping to return.
[tr. Hollander (1997)]

I have set foot in that region of life where it is not possible to go with any more intention of returning.
[tr. Kline (2002)]

My feet were at the edge of life beyond which one cannot pass with an expectation of returning.
[tr. Appelbaum (2006)]

I have set my feet in that place in life beyond which one cannot go with the intention of returning.
[tr. Frisardi (2012), ch. 7]

One night, I beheld in a dream a sage, who said to me, "In sleep, O mhy friend, the rose of joy has never blossomed for any man. Why do you do a deed so like to death? Arise, and drink wine, for you will sleep sound enough beneath the earth.
[tr. McCarthy (1879), # 47] (1888)]

Last night I dreamed I met a sage who said:
"Doth e'er in sleep the rosebud lift its head?
Why sleep, for sleep is but akin to death,
And thou shalt sleep enough when thou art dead?"
[tr. Garner (1887), 91]

Life is so short, yet sleeps thy lovely head;
Why make so soon a death-bed of thy bed?
O love, awake! thy beauty wastes away --
Thou shalt sleep on and on when thou art dead.
[tr. Le Gallienne (1897), # 33]

In a dream of the night quoth a sage me unto:
"Rose of gladness for mortal from sleep never blew;
A thing, then, to death that akin is why do?
Up, for under the earth thou shalt slumber thy due!"
[tr. Payne (1898), # 196]

I fell asleep, and wisdom said to me: --
"Never from sleep has the rose of happiness blossomed for anyone;
why do a thing that is the mate of death?
Drink wine, for thou must sleep for ages."
[tr. Heron-Allen (1898), # 27]

'Twas while I slept, that thus a wise man spoke: --
"Sleep never caused joy's rose in man to bloom,
Why court you thus the fellow of death's yoke?
Drink now, you'll sleep enough in earth's dark womb."
[tr. Cadell (1899), # 16]

I lay upon my couch in slumber deep,
And Wisdom cried aloud, "Oh, wherefore sleep?
For sleep is kin to death; drink while you may;
Eternal slumber hastens o'er the steep!"
[tr. Roe (1906), # 20]

I dreamt that Wisdom came to me and said,
"In sleep for none joy's roses petals spread,
In life why dost thou mimic death? Arise!
For sleep thou must when 'neath earth is thy bed."
[tr. Thompson (1906), # 93]

Falling asleep, I heard my Fate confess
That Sleep ne'er bore the Rose of Happiness.
"Sleep is the Mate of Death," she cried. "Awake!
Drink, ere Her lips bestow the last caress!"
[tr. Talbot (1908), # 27]

I dropped asleep. A wise man said to me: "From sleep
the rose of pleasure did never bloom for anyone.
Why do you meddle with that which is of a piece
with death ? Drink wine for we must sleep during many a lifetime."
[tr. Christensen (1927), # 59]

I fell asleep, and a wise man said to me:
"Sleep has brought to no one the rose of bliss.
Why do a thing which is the twin of death?
Drink wine, for many a life-time you must slumber".
[tr. Rosen (1928), # 43]

In sleep I was -- A sage then told me so:
"In darkness fruit of bliss will never grow,
Arise and fight with Death, avoid his blow;
Ere long you sleep within The Pit below."
[tr. Tirtha (1941), # 7.1]

I was asleep, a wise man said to me
"The rose of joy does not bloom for slumberers;
Why are you asleep? Sleep is the image of death,
Drink wine, below the ground you must sleep of necessity.
[tr. Avery/Heath-Stubbs (1979), # 159]

However, as we have just indicated, brains absorbed in wisdom, or in folly, or, as often happens, in both at once, are but very slowly permeable by the affairs of life. Their own destiny is far from them. There results from such concentrations of mind a passivity which, if it were due to reason, would resemble philosophy . We decline, we descend, we fall, we are even overthrown, and we hardly perceive it. This always ends, it is true, by an awakening, but a tardy one. In the meantime, it seems as though we were neutral in the game which is being played between our good and our ill fortune. We are the stake, yet we look upon the contest with indifference.
[tr. Wilbour (1862)]

As we have remarked, things of this world permeate very slowly brains absorbed in wisdom, or mania, or, as often happens, in both at once. Their own destiny is remote from them. The result of such concentrations is a passiveness which, were it of a reasoning nature, would resemble philosophy. Men sink, pass away, drift away, even crumble away without exactly noticing, though this always ends with a re-awakening, but a tardy one. In the meanwhile, it appears as if they are neutral in the game which is being played between their happiness and misery; they are the stakes, and look on at the game with indifference.
[tr. Wraxall (1862)]

In general, as we have already suggested, minds absorbed in wisdom or in folly, or in both at once as often happens, are little affected by the vicissitudes of daily life. Their personal destiny is a thing remote from them. Such detachment creates a state of acquiescence which, if it were the outcome of reflection, might be termed philosophical. But they submit to losses and reverses, even to physical decay, without being much aware of them. It is true that in the end there is an awakening, but it is late in coming. In the meantime they stand as it were aloof from the play of personal fortune and misfortune, pawns in a game of which they are detached spectators.
[tr. Denny (1976)]

However, as we have just indicated, brains absorbed in wisdom, in folly, or, as often happens, in both at once, are permeated only slowly by the affairs of life. Their own destiny is far from them. From such concentrations of mind comes a passivity which, if due to reason, would resemble philosophy. We decline, we descend, we fall, we are even overthrown, and we hardly notice it. This always ends, it is true, in an awakening, but a tardy one. In the meantime, we seem neutrals in the game being played between our good and our ill fortune. We are the stake, yet we look on the contest with indifference.
[tr. Wilbour/Fahnestock/MacAfee (1987)]

However, as we have just suggested, minds engrossed in wisdom or folly , or, as is often the case, in both at the same time, are only very slowly pervious to matters of everyday life. Their own destiny is far removed from them. resulting from this kind of concentration is a passivity, which, if there were any reasoning behind it, would seem philosophical. Such minds go into a decline, they sink, they languish, they even come to grief without really being aware of it. True, this always ends with an awakening, but a belated one. In the meantime it is as if they had no interest in the game that plays out between their happiness and their unhappiness. They who are themselves as stake watch the game with indifference.
[tr. Donougher (2013)]

Lip to lip I passionately kissed the bowl,
To learn from it the secret of length of days;
Lip to lip in answer it whispered reply,
"Drink wine, for once gone thou shalt never return!"
[tr. Cowell (1858), # 25]

Then to this earthen Bowl did I adjourn
My Lip the secret Well of Life to learn:
And Lip to Lip it murmur'd -- "While you live,
"Drink! -- for once dead you never shall return."
[tr. FitzGerald, 1st ed. (1859), # 34]

Then to the Lip of this poor earthen Urn
I lean'd, the secret Well of Life to learn:
And Lip to Lip it murmur'd -- "While you live,
"Drink! -- for, once dead, you never shall return."
[tr. FitzGerald, 2nd ed. (1868), # 34]

O offspring of the four and five, art puzzled by the four and five? Drink deep, for I have told thee time on time, that once departed, thou returnest no more.
[tr. McCarthy (1879), # 245]

I put my lips to the cup, for I did yearn
The secret of the future life to learn;
And from his lip I heard a whisper drop,
"Drink! for once gone you never will return."
[tr. Whinfield (1882), # 149]

I put my lips to the cup, for I did yearn
The means of gaining length of days to learn;
It leaned its lip to mine, and whispered low,
"Drink! for, once gone, you never will return."
[tr. Whinfield (1883), # 152, elsewhere # 274]

I put my lips to the cup, for I did yearn
The hidden cause of length of days to learn;
He leaned its lip to mine, and whispered low,
"Drink! for, once gone, you never will return."
[tr. Whinfield (188?), # 274]

Slave of four elements and sevenfold heaven,
Who aye bemoan the thrall of these eleven,
Drink! I have told you seventy times and seven,
Once gone, nor hell will send you back, nor heaven.
[tr. Whinfield (1882), #223]

Child of four elements and sevenfold heaven,
Who fume and sweat because of these eleven,
Drink! I have told you seventy times and seven,
Once gone, nor hell will send you back, nor heaven.
[tr. Whinfield (1883), # 431]

Sprung from the Four, and the Seven! I see that never
The four and the Seven respond to thy brain's endeavour --
Drink wine! for I tell thee, four times o'er and more,
Return there is none! -- Once gone, thou art gone for ever!
[tr. M. K. (1888)]

Lip to lip with the jar you know not what is intended
That is to say my lip also was like your lips (employed)
In the end since existence is no longer available
Your lips should be thus employed according to the friendly order.
[tr. Heron-Allen (1897), Calcutta # 227]

In great desire I pressed my lips to the lip of the jar,
To inquire from it how long life might be attained;
It joined its lip to mine and whispered: --
"Drink wine, for, to this world, thou returnest not."
[tr. Heron-Allen (1898), # 100]

With strong desire my lips the cup's lip sought
From it the cause of weary life to learn.
Its lip pressed my lips close and whisperèd: --
"Drink, in this world no moment can return."
[tr. Cadell (1899), # 110]

I prest my lip in yearning to the urn.
Thereby the means of length of life to learn.
And lip to my lip placed it whispered low,
"Drink! For to this world you will ne'er return!"
[tr. Thompson (1906), # 320]

To the jar's mouth my eager lip I press'd,
For Life's Elixir making anxious quest;
It join'd its lip to mine, and whisper'd low --
"Drink wine: thou shalt not wake from thy last rest!"
[tr. Talbot (1908), # 100]

I laid my lip to the lip of the wine-cup in the utmost
desire to seek from it the means of prolonging life.
It laid its lip to my lip and said mysteriously: "During
a whole life I was like thee; rejoice for a while in my company."
[tr. Christensen (1927), # 65]

I placed my lip on the lip of the jug and caught from it
The means of attaining a long life.
The jug then seemed to say to me:
"For a lifetime I have been as you; now, for a while, be my companion."
[tr. Rosen (1928), # 177]

My lip to lip of Jar I close in glee,
In hopes that life eternal I would see;
Then quoth the Jar: Like thee I once have been
For ages, hence a minute breathe with me."
[tr. Tirtha (1941), # 5.29]

Greedily to the bowl my lips I pressed
and asked how might I sue for green old age.
Pressing its lips to mine it muttered darkly:
"Drink up! Once gone, you shall return no more!"
[tr. Graves & Ali-Shah (1967), # 36]

I laid my lip against the pitcher's lip in the extremity of desire, that I might seek from it the means of long life: it laid (its) lip upon my lip and said secretly, "I too was (once) like thee: consort with me for a moment."
[tr. Bowen (1976), # 19, after Heron-Allen]

I pressed my lip upon the Winejar's lip,
And questioned how long life I might attain;
Then lip to lip it whispering replied:
"Drink wine -- this world thou shalt not see again."
[tr. Bowen (1976), # 19]

In the extremity of desire I put my lip to the pot's
To seek the elixir of life:
It put its lip on mine and murmured,
"Enjoy the wine, you'll not be here again."
[tr. Avery/Heath-Stubbs (1979), # 139]

I brought the cup to my lips with greed
Begging for longevity, my temporal need
Cup brought its to mine, its secret did feed
Time never returns, drink, of this take heed.
[tr. Shahriari (1998), literal]

The only secret that you need to know
The passage of time is a one way flow
If you understand, joyously you’ll grow
Else you will drown in your own sorrow.
[tr. Shahriari (1998), figurative]

By [imagination's] flattering pencil the cold skeleton of abstract reason assumes living and vermillion flesh; by it the sciences flourish, arts are embellished, woods speak, echoes sigh, rocks weep, marbles breaths, and all the inanimate bodies are suddenly inspired with life. 'Tis it that adds to the tenderness of an amourous heart the poignant taste of pleasures; it makes love bud in the cabinet of the philosopher and dusty pedant: in fine it forms the scientific men as well as orators, and poets.
[ed. Owen (1746)]

By the imagination, by its flattering brush, the cold skeleton of reason takes on living and ruddy flesh, by the imagination the sciences flourish, the arts are adorned, the wood speaks, the echoes sigh, the rocks weep, marble breathes, and all inanimate objects gain life. It is imagination again which adds the piquant charm of voluptuousness to the tenderness of an amorous heart; which makes tenderness bud in the study of the philosopher and of the dusty pedant, which, in a word, creates scholars as well as orators and poets.
[tr. Bussey (1912)]

Thanks to the imagination, to its flattering touch, the cold skeleton of reason acquires living rosy flesh; thanks to it the sciences flourish, the arts are embellished, woods speak, echoes sign, rocks weep, marble breaths and all inanimate objects come to life. It is, again, the imagination that adds to the tenderness of a loving heart the spicy attraction of sensuality. It makes it flower in the study of the philosopher or the dry-as-dust pedant, and it moulds scientists as well as orators and poets.
[tr. Thomson (1996); Machine Man]

Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.
[KJV (1611)]

Come to me, all of you who are tired from carrying heavy loads, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke and put it on you, and learn from me, because I am gentle and humble in spirit; and you will find rest. For the yoke I will give you is easy, and the load I will put on you is light.
[GNT (1976)]

Come to me, all you who labour and are overburdened, and I will give you rest. Shoulder my yoke and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. Yes, my yoke is easy and my burden light.
[NJB (1985)]

Come to me, all you who are struggling hard and carrying heavy loads, and I will give you rest. Put on my yoke, and learn from me. I’m gentle and humble. And you will find rest for yourselves. My yoke is easy to bear, and my burden is light.
[CEB (2011)]

Come to me, all you who are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.
[NRSV (2021 ed.)]

The thinker sees in his own actions attempts and questionings to obtain information about something or other; success and failure are answers to him first and foremost.
[tr. Common (1911)]

A thinker sees his own actions as experiments and questions -- as attempts to find out something. Success and failure are for him answers above all.
[tr. Kaufmann (1974)]

In his own actions, the thinker sees experiments and enquiries from which he seeks to obtain insight: to him, success and failure are, first of all, answers.
[tr. Hill (2018)]

"How wonderful to be alive," he thought. "But why does it always have to be so painful?"
[tr. Hayward & Harari (1958), UK ed.]

"How good it is in this world!" he thought. "But why does it always come out so painful?"
[tr. Pevear & Volokhonsky (2010)]

Come and let us live, my Deare,
Let us love and never feare
What the sourest Fathers say:
Brightest Sol that dyes to-day
Lives againe as blithe to-morrow;
But if we darke sons of sorrow
Set, ô then, how long a Night
Shuts the Eyes of our short light!
[tr. Crashaw (1648)]

Lesbia, live to love and pleasure,
Careless what the grave may say:
When each moment is a treasure
Why should lovers lose a day?
Setting suns shall rise in glory,
But when little life is o'er,
There's an end of all the story --
We shall sleep, and wake no more.
[tr. Langhorne (c. 1765)]

Let's live, and love, my darling fair!
And not a single farthing care
For age's babbling spite;
Yon suns that set again shall rise,
but, when our transient meteor dies,
We sleep in endless night.
[tr. Nott (1795)]

My Lesbia, let us love and live,
And to the winds, my Lesbia, give
Each cold restraint, each boding fear
Of age and all her saws severe.
Yon sun now posting to the main
Will set -- but 'tis to rise again: --
But we, when once our mortal light
Is set, must sleep in endless night!
[tr. Coleridge (1798)]

Love, my Lesbia, while we live,
Value all the cross advice
That the surly greybeards give
At a single farthing's price.
Suns that set again may rise;
We, when once our fleeting light,
Once our day in darkness dies,
Sleep in one eternal night.
[tr. Lamb (1821)]

Live we, love we, Lesbia dear,
And the stupid saws austere,
Which your sour old dotards prate,
Let us at a farthing rate!
When the sun sets, ' tis to rise
Brighter in the morning skies;
But, when sets our little light,
We must sleep in endless night.
[tr. T. Martin (1861)]

The while we live, to love let's give
Each hour, my winsome dearie!
Hence, churlish rage of icy age!
Of love we 'll ne'er grow weary.
Bright Phoebus dies, again to rise;
Returns life's brief light never;
When once 'tis gone, we slumber on
For ever and for ever.
[tr. Cranstoun (1867)]

Living, Lesbia, we should e'en be loving.
Sour severity, tongue of eld maligning,
All be to us a penny's estimation.
Suns set only to rise again to-morrow.
We, when sets in a little hour the brief light,
Sleep one infinite age, a night for ever.
[tr. Ellis (1871)]

Love we (my Lesbia!) and live we our day,
While all stern sayings crabbed sages say,
At one doit's value let us price and prize!
The Suns can westward sink again to rise
But we, extinguished once our tiny light,
Perforce shall slumber through one lasting night!
[tr. Burton (1893)]

Let us live, my Lesbia, and let us love, and count all the rumors of stern old men at a penny's fee. Suns can set and rise again: we when once our brief light has set must sleep through a perpetual night.
[tr. Smithers (1894)]

Come, my Lesbia, no repining;
Let us love while yet we may!
Suns go on forever shining;
But when we have had our day,
Sleep perpetual shall o'ertake us,
And no morrow's dawn awake us.
[tr. Field (1896)]

Let us live, my Lesbia, and love, and value at one farthing all the talk of crabbed old men.
Suns may set and rise again. For us, when the short light has once set, remains to be slept the sleep of one unbroken night.
[tr. Warre Cornish (1904)]

Let us live, my Lesbia, let us love, for the reprobation of soured age let us not care a sou. Suns can set and rise again; but to our brief light, when once it sets, there comes a never-ending night that must be passed in never-ending sleep.
[tr. Stuttaford (1912)]

We live, Lesbia,
And we love, Lesbia,
And what do we care what the world may say?
The sun goes down,
And the sun comes up,
But our little lives pass away
In a day,
Our poor little lives pass away.
[tr. Dement (1915)]

Let us revel in life and love, my darling;
All that crabbed antiquities say idly
We will value together at a farthing.
Suns may set , and return again as brightly:
When our light to its dying spark has fluttered,
We must sleep an eternity of slumber.
[tr. Symons-Jeune (1923)]

O! let us love and have our day,
All that the bitter greybeards say
Appraising at a single mite.
My Lesbia , suns can set and rise:
For us the brief light dawns and dies
Once only, and the rest is night.
[tr. MacNaghten (1925)]

Come let us live and let us love,
And the stern voice of censors prove,
Who bid us from our loving cease,
Exactly worth a penny piece.
For suns can rise and suns can wane
And on the morrow rise again;
But when our one brief day is gone,
For ever we must sleep alone.
[tr. Wright (1926)]

Come, Lesbia, let us live and love,
nor give a damn what sour old men say.
The sun that sets may rise again
but when our light has sunk into the earth,
it is gone forever.
[tr. Gregory (1931)]

Lesbia, let us live only for loving,
and let us value at a single penny
all the loose flap of senile busybodies!
Suns when they set are capable of rising,
but at the setting of our on brief light
night is one sleep from which we never awaken.
[tr. C. Martin (1979)]

Let us live, my Lesbia, let us love,
and all the words of the old, and so moral,
may they be worth less than nothing to us!
Suns may set, and suns may rise again:
but when our brief light has set,
night is one long everlasting sleep.
[tr. Kline (2001)]

Let us live, my Lesbia, and let us love,
and let us judge all the rumors of the old men
to be worth just one penny!
The suns are able to fall and rise:
When that brief light has fallen for us,
we must sleep a never ending night.
[tr. Negenborn (1997)]

Let's live, Lesbia mine, and love --
and as for scandal, all the gossip, old men's strictures,
value the lot at no more than a farthing!
Suns can rise and set ad infinitum --
for us, though, once our bref life's quenched,
there's only one unending night that's left to sleep through.
[tr. Green (2005)]

Come live with me, Lesbia, and be my love,
And ignore the wagging tongues
Of wilted crones and toothless geezers.
Suns rise and set, rise and set again,
But we, when our brief light is blacked,
Must sleep forever, and then forever.
[tr. Hager (2006)]

My Lesbia, let’s live and let’s love,
Let all the rumors of harsh old men
count for only a penny.
Suns can set and rise again:
but when our brief light sets
we must sleep a lonely endless night.
[tr. @sentantiq (2015)]

Let us live, my Lesbia, and let us love,
and let's value all the rumors
of rather stern old men as one penny!
Suns can set and return;
as for us, once our brief light sets,
there is one perpetual night to be slept.
[tr. Wikibooks (2017)]

Let us live, my Lesbia, and let us love,
and let us value all the rumors of
more severe old men at only a penny!
Suns are able to set and return:
when once the short light has set for us
one perpetual night must be slept by us.
[tr. Wikisource (2018)]

My sweetest Lesbia, let us live and love;
And though the sager sort our deeds reprove,
Let us not weigh them: Heaven's great lamps do dive
Into their west, and straight again revive,
But, soon as once set is our little light,
Then must we sleep one ever-during night.
[Thomas Campion, A Book of Airs (1601)]

Come my Celia, let us prove,
While we can, the sports of love;
Time will not be ours forever,
He at length our good will sever.
Spend not then his gifts in vain;
Suns that set may rise again,
But if once we lose this light,
'Tis with us perpetual night.
[Ben Jonson, Volpone, Act 3, sc. 6 (1616)]

One ill is ever clinging;
One treads upon its heels;
A third, in distance springing,
Its fearful front reveals.
[tr. Peacock (1897)]

One trouble alive and well, another gone,
as all afresh a new one comes our way.
[Source]

I don't like people who have never fallen or stumbled. Their virtue is lifeless and it isn't of much value. Life hasn't revealed its beauty to them.
[tr. Hayward & Harari (1958), UK ed., "Opposite the House of the Caryatids"]

I don't like the righteous ones, who never fell, never stumbled. Their virtue is dead and of little value. The beauty of life has not been revealed to them.
[tr. Pevear & Volokhonsky (2010), "Opposite the House with Figures"]

There are two things to which we must become inured on pain of finding life intolerable: the outrages of time and man's injustice.
[tr. Mathers (1926)]

There are two things that one must get used to or one will find life unendurable: the damages of time and the injustices of men.
[tr. Merwin (1969)]

There are two things that a man must reconcile himself to, or he will find life unbearable: they are the injuries of time and the injuries of men.
[tr. Siniscalchi (1994)]

The great evil of the passions does not lie in the torments which they bring upon men, but in the faults and shameful actions they cause him to commit. Were it not for this drawback they would have too great an advantage over cold reason, which can never be productive of happiness. His passions make man live, his wisdom only makes him last.
[tr. Mathers (1926)]

The unfortunate thing about passions is not the misery they make one commit, and which degrade man. Without these disadvantages, they would overpower cold reason, which does not in the least a source of happiness. Passions make men live, wisdom only makes the endure.
[tr. Pearson (1973)]

The great disaster of passions is not the torment they cause, but the debasing errors and depravity into which they lead men. Without these drawbacks, passion would enjoy many advantages over cold reason, which never produces happiness. Passions enable men to live, wisdom merely enables them to survive.
[tr. Dusinberre (1992)]

The great misfortune of passions does not come from the torments that they cause, but from the base things they make a person do, and which degrade him. Without these inconveniences, they would have too many advantages over cold reason, which never makes people happy. Passions make a man live, wisdom and facts only make him endure.
[tr. Siniscalchi (1994)]

The poete whiche rehercith in the Scene in some fable owght to beware that he make not werye and that he noye not his heerers by ouer long rehercyng the fable. So that men owght not desire to lyve ouir olde age seeyng pryncypally that in that age or nevir he is fulle weerye for to lyve.
[tr. Worcester/Worcester/Scrope (1481)]

And old age is, as it were, the peroration or final end of a man's time in this world, much like to the epilogue or catastrophe of an interlude, the wearisome repetition or defatigation whereof we ought to avoid and eschew, and especially when we are fully cloyed with satiety.
[tr. Newton (1569)]

But old age is the last act of our life as of a play, of which there ought to be an end, especially when there is satiety and fulnesse of time joyned with it.
[tr. Austin (1648)]

Good Acts (if long) seem tedious, so is Age
Acting too long upon this Earth her Stage.
[tr. Denham (1669)]

For in Old Age we are as in the last Act of a Play, in which we ought to take our Leave when fully satisfied with the Enjoyment.
[tr. J. D. (1744)]

And as the whole Course of Life but too much resembles a Farce, of which Old-Age is the last Act; when we have enough of it, 'tis most prudent to retire, and not to make a Fatigue of what we should endeavour to make only an Entertainment.
[tr. Logan (1744)]

In fine, old age may be considered as the last scene in the great drama of life, and one would not, surely, wish to lengthen out his part till he sunk down sated with repetition and exhausted with fatigue.
[tr. Melmoth (1773)]

Now old age is the completion of life, as of a play, weariness of which we ought to avoid, especially when satiety is added.
[Cornish Bros. ed. (1847)]

Now old age is the consummation of life, just as of a play; from the fatigue of which we ought to escape, especially when satiety is superadded.
[tr. Edmonds (1874)]

Old age is the closing act of life, as of a drama, and we ought in this to avoid utter weariness, especially if the act has been prolonged beyond its due length.
[tr. Peabody (1884)]

Now, old age is as it were the playing out of the drama, the full fatigue of which we should shun, especially when we also feel that we have had more than enough of it.
[tr. Shuckburgh (1895)]

Age; is; the end; of life, as of a play:
We should avoid the weariness that comes,
The more, if we've enjoyed it to the full.
[tr. Allison (1916)]

Moreover, old age is the final scene, as it were, in life's drama, from which we ought to escape when it grows wearisome and, certainly, when we have had our fill.
[tr. Falconer (1923)]

When life's last act, old age, has become wearisome, when we have had enough, the time has come to go.
[tr. Grant (1960, 1971 ed.)]

Yes, old age is, so to speak, the last scene in the play; when we find it beginning to be tiresome we should beat a hasty retreat from it, especially when we feel as if we had seen all this before, entirely too many times.
[tr. Copley (1967)]

Old age is the last act of the drama of life and when it is over we ought to leave it, especially if we have achieved a good fullness in it.
[tr. Gerberding (2014)]

Old age is but life’s drama’s final curtain.
[tr. Bozzi (2015)]

Old age is the final act in the play of life. When we have had enough and are weary, it is time to go.
[tr. Freeman (2016)]

Thou art a fool, if thou think to live long, sith thou art not sure to live one day to the end. How many have been deceived through trust of long life, and suddenly have been taken out of this world or they had thought. How oft hast thou heard say that such a man was slain, and such a man was drowned, and such a man fell and broke his neck ? This man as he ate his meat was strangled, and this man as he played took his death ; one with fire, another with iron, another with sickness, and some by theft have suddenly perished ! And so the end of all men is death, for the life of man as a shadow suddenly fleeth and passeth away.
[tr. Whitford/Raynal (1530/1871)]

You are foolish if you think to live long, since you are not certain to live one day through to the end. How many have been deceived through trusting in a long life who have suddenly been taken out of the world much sooner than they had thought. How often have you heard that such a man was slain, and such a man was drowned, and such a man fell and broke his neck; this man choked on his food, and this man died in his recreation; one by fire, another by the sword, another by sickness, and some by theft have suddenly perished. And so the end of all men is death, and the life of man is as a shadow which suddenly glides and passes away.
[tr. Whitford/Gardiner (1530/1955)]

Ah foole, why dost thou think to live long, when thou canst not promise to thy selfe one day, how many have been deceived and suddenly snatcht away? How often dost thou hear these reports, such a man is slain, another is drowned, a third breaks his neck with a fall, this man died eating, and that man playing? One perished by fire, another by the sword, another of the plague, and another was slain by theeves, thus death is the end of all, and mans life passeth away like a shadow.
[tr. Page (1639), 1.23.29-31]

Does any Confidence of long Life encourage you to defer putting this good Advice in Execution speedily ? Nay, but reflect, fond Man, how little you can promise your self one poor single Day. How many Instances have you before your Eyes, or fresh in your Remembrance, of Persons miserably deluded and disappointed in this Hope, and hurried out of the Body without any warning at all? How often have you been surprized with the News of this Friend being run thro', another drowning crossing the Water, a Third breaking his Neck by a Fall, a Fourth fallen down dead at Table, or choaked with his Meat, a Fifth seized with an Apoplex at Play, a Sixth burnt in his Bed, a Seventh murthered, an Eighth killed by Thieves, a Ninth struck with Lightning, or Blasting, or Pestilence, a Tenth swallow'd up in an Earthquake. Such vast variety of Deaths surround us, and so fleeting a Shadow is the Life of a Man.
[tr. Stanhope (1696; 1706 ed.)]

Ah foolish man! why dost thou still flatter thyself with the expectation of a long life, when thou canst not be sure of a single day? How many unhappy fools, deluded by this hope, are in some unexpected moment separated from the body! How often dost thou hear, that one is slain, another is drowned, another by falling from a precipice has broken his neck, another is choaked in eating, another has dropt down dead in the exercise of some favorite diversion; and that thousands, indeed, are daily perishing by fire, by sword, by the plague, or by the violence of robbers! Thus is death common to every age; and man suddenly passeth away as a vision of the night.
[tr. Payne (1803), 1.23.8]

Ah! fool, why dost thou think to live long, when thou canst not promise to thyself one day. How many have been deceived and suddenly snatched away! How often dost thou hear these reports, Such a man is slain, another man is drowned, a third breaks his neck with a fall from some high place, this man died eating, and that man playing! One perished by fire, another by the sword, another of the plague, another was slain by thieves. Thus death is the end of all, and man's life suddenly passeth away like a shadow.
[ed. Parker (1841)]

Ah, foolish man! why dost thou think thou wilt live long, when thou canst not count upon a single day? How many souls, deluded by this hope, are, in some unexpected moment, separated from the body! How often dost thou hear, that "one is slain, another is drowned, another, by falling form a precipice, has broken his neck -- another is choaked in eating; another has dropt down dead in the exercise of some favourite diversion; and that thousands, indeed, are daily perishing by fire, by sword, by the plague, or by the violence of robbers! Thus, death is the end of all; and the life of man passeth away suddenly like a shadow.
[tr. Dibdin (1851)]

Ah, fool! why dost thou think to live long, when thou art not sure of one day? How many thinking to live long have been deceived, and snatched unexpectedly away? How often hast thou heard related, that such a one was slain by the sword; another drowned; another, from a height, broke his neck; one died eating, another playing? Some have perished by fire; some by the sword; some by pestilence; and some by robbers. And so death is the end of all; and man's life suddenly passeth away like a shadow.
[ed. Bagster (1860)]

Ah, foolish one! why thinkest thou that thou shalt live long, when thou art not sure of a single day? How many have been deceived, and suddenly have been snatched away from the body! How many times hast thou heard how one was slain by the sword, another was drowned, another falling from on high broke his neck, another died at the table, another whilst at play! One died by fire, another by the sword, another by the pestilence, another by the robber. Thus cometh death to all, and the life of men swiftly passeth away like a shadow.
[tr. Benham (1874)]

Ah! fool, why dost thou think to live long, when thou canst not promise to thyself one day. How many have been deceived and suddenly snatched away! How often dost thou hear these reports, Such a man is slain, another is drowned, a third has broken his neck with a fall, this man died eating, and that man playing! One perished by fire, another by the sword, another by the plague, another was slain by thieves. Thus death is the end of all, and man's life suddenly passeth away like a shadow.
[tr. Anon. (1901)]

Ah, foolish man, why do you plan to live long when you are not sure of living even a day? How many have been deceived and suddenly snatched away! How often have you heard of persons being killed by drownings, by fatal falls from high places, of persons dying at meals, at play, in fires, by the sword, in pestilence, or at the hands of robbers! Death is the end of everyone and the life of man quickly passes away like a shadow.
[tr. Croft/Bolton (1940)]

Ah fool, why think of living long when you have no certainty of a day? How many are mistaken and unexpectedly snatched away from the body. How often you have heard men say, he is killed by the sword, he is drowned, he broke his neck falling from a height, he choked while eating, he met his end while at play; one perished by fire, another from plague, another by a robber; and so death is the end of all; and man’s life passes suddenly like a shadow.
[tr. Daplyn (1952)]

Foolish man, how can you promise yourself a long life, when you are not certain of a single day? How many have deceived themselves in this way, and been snatched unexpectedly from life! You have often heard how this man was slain by the sword; another drowned; how another fell from a high place and broke his neck; how another died at table; how another met his end in play. One perishes by fire, another by the sword, another from disease, another at the hands of robbers. Death is the end of all men; and the life of man passes away suddenly as a shadow.
[tr. Sherley-Price (1952)]

You fool, why do you imagine you will live a long life. when you cannot be sure of a single day? Many have made this mistake and have been snatched away from life when they least expected it. So often you hear people saying that so and so has been killed in battle, and so and so drowned; another man has fallen from a height and broken his neck; one choked over a meal, another met his end in some sport. Others have died by -- fire, by violence, by sickness, by robbery -- death is the end of all, and the life of man passes by and vanishes like a shadow.
[tr. Knott (1962)]

Foolish one, why do you hope for long life when not even one day is certain? How many there are who think they will live long, but are mistaken and snatched from the body unexpectedly. How often have you heard it said: This man fell by the sword; that man was drowned; another fell and broke his neck; yet another was taken while at table and the other was at sport when the end came. One by fire, another by steel, yet another by pestilence and again another by thieves met his death. Death is the end of all men and man’s life is a shadow that quickly passes by.
[tr. Rooney (1979)]

Ah, my foolish friend! why do you think of living a long life when you are not sure of even one day? How many people are tricked and unexpectedly snatched away? How often have you heard it said that someone was murdered, someone else drowned, another broke his neck falling from a high place, yet another choked while eating, and someone else met his end while playing; one person died by fire, another from disease, and another was killed by a robber, and thus death is the end of all, and our life passes suddenly like a shadow.
[tr. Creasy (1989)]

Life is a malady in which sleep soothes us every sixteen hours; it is a palliation; death is the remedy.
[Ballou, comp. (1872)]

Living is a disease from the pains of which sleep eases us every sixteen hours; sleep is but a palliative, death alone is the cure.
[tr. Hutchinson (1902)]

Life is a disease from which sleep gives us alleviation every sixteen hours. Sleep is a palliative, Death is the remedy.
[tr. Mathers (1926)]

Living is an ailment which is relieved every sixteen hours by sleep. A palliative Death is the cure.
[tr. Merwin (1969)]

To live is a malady from which sleep vouchsafes us relief every sixteen hours. That is a palliative. The remedy is death.
[tr. Pearson (1973)]

To live is a sickness that sleep comforts every sixteen hours. It's a palliative. Death is the cure.
[tr. Siniscalchi (1994)]

Life is a sickness to which sleep provides relief every sixteen hours. It's a palliative. The remedy is death.
[Source]

Man arrives a novice at every age of life.
[Source (1878)]

Man reaches each stage in his life as a novice.
[tr. Hutchinson (1902), "The Cynic's Breviary"]

A man begins every stage of his life as a novice.
[tr. Parmée, ¶412 (2003)]

It is good that we have sometime griefs and adversities, for they drive a man to behold himself, and to see that he is here but as in an exile, and be learned thereby to know that he ought not to put his trust in any worldly thing.
[tr. Whitford/Raynal (1530/1871)]

It is good that we sometimes have griefs and adversities, for they drive a man to behold himself and to see that he is but here as in exile, and to learn thereby that he ought not put his trust in any worldly thing.
[tr. Whitford/Gardiner (1530/1955)]

It is good for us sometimes to suffer affliction and contradiction, because they oftentimes call a man home unto himselfe. They make a man to know that he liveth here but in banishment, and that he must not trust to any thing in this world.
[tr. Page (1639), x.12.1-2]

It is good for me that I have been in Trouble, says David. Nor is it David's Case alone, for many Men have reason to bless that Providence which sends Crosses and Calamities upon them. These bring Man's Thoughts home, put him upon Reflection, and help him to understand himself and his Condition. They shew him, that he is in a State of Exile and Pilgrimage, and forbid him to set up his Hope and Rest, in a strange Country, where he is no better than a Sojourner.
[tr. Stanhope (1696; 1706 ed.)]

It is good for man to suffer the adversity of this earthly life; for it brings him back to the sacred retirement of the heart, where only he finds, that he is an exile from his native home, and ought not to place his trust in any worldly enjoyment.
[tr. Payne (1803)]

It is good that we have sometimes some troubles and crosses; for they often make a man enter into himself, and consider that he is here in banishment, and ought not to place his trust in any worldly thing.
[ed. Parker (1841)]

It is good for us that we sometimes suffer contrarieties and vexations; for they call a man back to the retirement of his heart, where only he finds, that, as he is an exile from his native home, he ought not to place his trust in any worldly enjoyment.
[tr. Dibdin (1851)]

It is good for us to have sometimes troubles and adversities, for they make a man enter into himself, that he may know that he is in exile, and may not place his hopes in anything of the world.
[ed. Bagster (1860)]

It is good for us that we sometimes have sorrows and adversities, for they often make a man lay to heart that he is only a stranger and sojourner, and may not put his trust in any worldly thing.
[tr. Benham (1874)]

It is good that we have sometimes troubles and crosses; for they often make a man enter into himself, and consider that he is here in banishment, and ought not to place his trust in any worldly thing.
[tr. Anon. (1901)]

It is good for us to have trials and troubles at times, for they often remind us that we are on probation and ought not to hope in any worldly thing.
[tr. Croft/Bolton (1940)]

It is good for us at times to have some burdens and adversities, for they often call a man back to his heart, that he may recognise himself to be in exile, and not fix his hope on anything earthly.
[tr. Daplyn (1952)]

It is good for us to encounter troubles and adversities from time to time, for trouble often compels a man to search his own heart. It reminds him that he is an exile here, and that he can put his trust in nothing in this world.
[tr. Sherley-Price (1952)]

It's good for you to go through difficult times now and again, and to have your will thwarted; the effect is often to make a man think -- make him realize that he is living in exile, and it is no use relying upon any earthly support.
[tr. Knox-Oakley (1959)]

It is a good thing that we have to face difficulties and opposition from time to time, because this brings us back to ourselves; it makes us realize that we are exiles and cannot pin our hopes on anything in this world.
[tr. Knott (1962)]

It is good for us now and then to experience difficulties and adversity; for they make man realize again that he is an exile and should not put his hopes on any worldly thing.
[tr. Rooney (1979)]

• "People are fools who live without enjoyment of life." [tr. Freeman (1948)]
• "Fools live with no enjoyment in life." [Source]

It is not life to live, but to be well.
[tr. Burton (1621)]

Not all who live long, but happily, are old.
[tr. Killigrew (1695)]

For sense and reason tell,
That life is only life, when we are well.
[tr. Hay (1755)]

For life is not to live, but to be well.
[tr. Johnson, in The Rambler, #48, cited to Elphinston (1 Sep 1750)]

To brethe can just not dying give:
But, to be well, must be to live.
[tr. Elphinston (1782), 2.115]

For life is not simply living, but living in health.
[tr. Amos (1858)]

Life consists not in living, but in enjoying health.
[tr. Bohn's Classical (1859)]

It is not life to live, but to be well.
[ed. Harbottle (1897)]

The blunderer who deems them so,
Misreckons life and much mistakes it,
He thinks 'tis drawing breath -- we know
'Tis health alone that mars or makes it.
[tr. Pott & Wright (1921)]

Life is not life, but health is life indeed.
[tr. Francis & Tatum (1924), #310]

To live is not just life, but health.
[tr. Shepherd (1987)]

Life is not being alive, but being well.
[tr. Shackleton Bailey (1993)]

No man properly can be said to live more than that which is now present, which is but a moment of time. Whatsoever is besides either is already past, or uncertain.
[tr. Casaubon (1634)]

Remembering withal, that every Mans Life lies all within the Present; For the Past is spent, and done with, and the Future is uncertain: Now the Present is strictly examin'd, is but a point of Time. Well then!
[tr. Collier (1701)]

Remember also that each man lives only the present moment: The rest of time is either spent and gone, or is quite unknown.
[tr. Hutcheson/Moor (1742)]

Recollect, moreover, what I have formerly remarked, "that every one lives that moment only which is now present." For the rest of his life is either already past, or is wrapt in uncertainty.
[tr. Graves (1792)]

Bear in mind that every man lives only this present time, which is an indivisible point, and that all the rest of his life is either past or it is uncertain.
[tr. Long (1862)]

Remembering withal, that every man's life lies all within the present, which is but a point of time; for the past is spent, and the future is uncertain.
[tr. Collier/Zimmern (1887)]

And bear in mind withal that every man lives only in the present, this passing moment' all else is life outlived, or yet undisclosed.
[tr. Rendall (1898)]

Remember also that every man lives only this present moment, which is a fleeting instant: the rest of time is either spent or quite unknown.
[tr. Hutcheson/Chrystal (1902)]

Remember withal that it is only this present, a moment of time, that a man lives: all the rest either has been lived or may never be.
[tr. Haines (Loeb) (1916)]

Each of us lives only in the present, this brief moment; the rest is either a life that is past, or is in an uncertain future.
[tr. Farquharson (1944)]

Remember, furthermore, that each of us lives only in the present, this fleeting moment of time, and that the rest of one's days are either dead and gone or lie in an unknowable future.
[tr. Hard (1997 ed.)]

Each of us lives only now, this brief instant. The rest has been lived already, or is impossible to see.
[tr. Hays (2003)]

Remind yourself too that each of us lives only in the present moment, a mere fragment of time: the rest is life past or uncertain future.
[tr. Hammond (2006)]

Also remember that each person lives in this very moment, and that the rest either has already happened or else is entirely uncertain.
[tr. Needleman/Piazza (2008)]

Remember, furthermore, that each of us lives only in the present, this fleeting moment of time, and that the rest of one’s life has either already been lived or lies in an unknowable future.
[tr. Hard (2011 ed.)]

Keep in mind that each of us only lives int he present, this brief moment of time; the rest of our life has been lived already or lies in the uncertain future.
[tr. Gill (2013)]

The glorious master-piece of man, is, to live to the purpose. All other things, as to raigne, to governe, to hoarde up treasure, to thrive and to build, are for the most part but appendixes and supportes thereunto.
[tr. Florio (1603)]

The glorious Master-piece of Man is to know how to live to purpose; all other things, to reign, to lay up Treasure, and to build, are at the most but little Appendixes, and little Props.
[tr. Cotton (1686)]

Man's great and glorious master-work is to live befittingly; all other things -- to reign, to lay up treasure, to build -- are at the best mere accessories and aids.
[tr. Ives (1925)]

Our great and glorious masterpiece is to live appropriately. All other things, ruling, hoarding, building, are only little appendages and props, at most.
[tr. Frame (1943)]

Our most great and glorious achievement is to live our life fittingly. Everything else -- reigning, building, laying up treasure -- are at most tiny props and small accessories.
[tr. Screech (1987)]

Man is born to live, not to prepare for life. Life itself, the phenomenon of life, the gift of life, is so breath-takingly serious! So why substitute this childish harlequinade of immature fantasies, these schoolboy escapades?
[tr. Hayward & Harari (1958), US ed.]

Man is born to live, not to prepare for life. And life itself, the phenomenon of life, the gift of life, is so thrillingly serious! Why then substitute for it a childish harlequinade of immature inventions, these escapes of Chekhovian schoolboys to America?
[tr. Pevear & Volokhonsky (2010)]

He's Master of himself alone,
He lives, that makes each day his own:
He lives that can distinctly say
It is enough, for I have liv'd to day:
Let Jove to morrow smiling rise,
Or let dark Clouds spread o're the Skys:
He cannot make the pleasures void
Nor sower the sweets I have enjoy'd,
Nor call that back which winged hours have born away.
[tr. Creech (1684)]

Happy he,
Self-centred, who each night can say,
“My life is lived: the morn may see
A clouded or a sunny day:
That rests with Jove: but what is gone,
He will not, cannot turn to nought;
Nor cancel, as a thing undone,
What once the flying hour has brought.
[tr. Conington (1872)]

That man is master of himself and shall live happy, who has it in his power to say, "I have lived to-day: to-morrow let the Sire invest the heaven, either with a black cloud, or with clear sunshine; nevertheless he shall not render ineffectual what is past, nor undo or annihilate what the fleeting hour has once carried off.
[tr. Smart/Buckley (1853)]

Lord of himself that man will be,
And happy in his life alway.
Who still at eve can say with free
Contented soul, "I've lived to-day!
Let Jove to-morrow, if he will,
With blackest clouds the welkin fill,
Or flood it all with sunlight pure.
Yet from the past he cannot take
Its influence, for that is sure.
Nor can he mar, or bootless make
Whate'er of rapture and delight
The hours have borne us in their flight."
[tr. Martin (1864)]

Happy indeed is he,
Lord of himself, to whom
’Tis given to say, as each day ends, “I have lived:”
To-morrow let the Sire invest the heaven
With darkest cloud or “purest ray serene,”
He mars not what has been,
Nor from Time's sum blots out one fleeted hour.
[tr. Bulwer-Lytton (1870)]

That man will live in happiness and self-command who can say at the close of each day, "I have lived. To-morrow let the Great Father fill the sky with black cloud or bright sunshine, yet can he not make void that which is to come, nor cause that not to have been which the flying hour hath once carried away on its wings."
[tr. Elgood (1893)]

Self-ruled, light-hearted shall he be,
Who daily 'I have lived,' can say,
Dark tempests let the Sire decree,
Or brightness, for the coming day.
Yet cannot he the bygone days
Unmake, or hold the past undone,
Nor can with utmost might erase
The work of hours whose glass is run.
[tr. Gladstone (1894)]

He will, his soul possessing, live joyfully,
Who, as each day goes by, can say, "I have liv'd;
To-morrow let th' Almighty Father
Either fill up with the darkling storm-cloud,
Or the pure sunlight! That which is past, e'en He
Cannot undo and cause to have never been,
Nor can He by his pow'r demolish
Bliss that the past fleeting hour has given."
[tr. Phelps (1897)]

That man will be
Master of self, and pass in joy, who daily may
Declare "I have lived*: to-morrow let the Father
Encompass heaven, or with black cloud,
Or sunshine clear: still that which is behind
He will not render void nor forge anew
Nor make as though undone,
Whate'er the flying hour has once removed.
[tr. Garnsey (1907)]

Self-centred he,
And blest, who can make boast each coming night
"This day I've lived." Or dark or bright
To-morrow's dawn may be,
As Jove shall please. But never deed that's done
Can ev'n high Heaven make as 'twere thing of naught;
Or act, by Time to issue brought,
Cancel as though 'twere none.
[tr. Marshall (1908)]

Master of himself and joyful will that man live who day by day can say: "I have lived to-day ; to-morrow let the Father fill the heaven with murky clouds, or radiant sunshine! Yet will he not render vain whatever now is past, nor will he alter and undo what once the fleeting hour has brought.
[tr. Bennett (Loeb) (1912)]

Lord of himself, and happy, will
He be, who can from day to day
Say, "I have lived; let Jove fulfill
Tomorrow's sky with leaden-grey
Clouds or with shine, he can't undo
What has been done, nor make as naught,
No, nor reforge and shape anew,
What once the flying hour has brought.
[tr. Mills (1924)]

Call him happy
And lord of his own soul who every evening
Can say, "Today I have lived.
Tomorrow Jove may blot the sky with cloud
Or fill it with pure sunshine, yet he cannot
Devalue what has once been held as precious,
Or tarnish nor melt back
The gold the visiting hour has left behind."
[tr. Michie (1963)]

A man is his own
Master, is happy, Maecenas, saluting
The sun and saying “Today I’ve been
Alive.” The gods can let tomorrow’s
Sky glow or be black with clouds,
But tomorrow's tomorrow, I've got what I've got,
Nothing I've had in my hands will be nothing,
Though time takes it.
[tr. Raffel (1983)]

Happy the man who has earned the right to say:
"I've lived my life. There may be storms tomorrow,
Maybe fair weather. Nobody knows for sure.
What I have had in the past cannot be taken
Away from me now."
[tr. Ferry (1997)]

Master of himself and joyful
will that man live who is able
every day to say: "I have lived."
Tomorrow let the Father fill the sky
either with dark clouds or radiant sunshine.
But even he cannot undo that which is done
or render vain the past
or alter what the fleeting hour has once wrought.
[tr. Alexander (1999)]

He’s happy, he’s his own master, who can say
each day: ‘I’ve lived: tomorrow, the Father may
fill the heavens with darkening cloud,
or fill the sky with radiant sunshine:
yet he can’t render whatever is past as
null and void, he can never seek to alter,
or return and undo, whatever
the fleeting moment tosses behind it.
[tr. Kline (2015)]

This is it why very selde we fynde
A man so cloyed with the worlde as he that new hathe dynde
Is with his meate and that thers none which in their extreame dayes
Will parte from lyfe as full from feast to goe theyr homewarde wayes
[tr. Drant (1567)]

And hence it comes, we seldome find a man
That sayes He has liv'd happily, and can
Like a well-feasted-guest depart at last
Contented with that part of 's life that past.
[tr. A. B.; ed. Brome (1666)]

Hence 'tis scarce any thinks his state is blest,
Nor when Death calls like a contented Guest
Will rise from Life, and lay him down to rest.
[tr. Creech (1684)]

From hence, how few, like sated guests, depart
From life's full banquet with a cheerful heart!
[tr. Francis (1747)]

Hence few are found, who dying can declare
That theirs was comfort unalloy'd with care;
Or, rising from life's banquet, quit their seat,
Like cheerful guests, contented with the treat.
[tr. Howes (1845)]

Hence it is, that we rarely find a man who can say he has lived happy, and content with his past life, can retire from the world like a satisfied guest.
[tr. Smart/Buckley (1853)]

And so it is that seldom can we find a man
to say he has lived happily, and to quit life
as sated guests can quit the feast, well pleased
with all the time he spent in it.
[tr. Millington (1870)]

Thus it comes that seldom can we find one who says he has had a happy life, and who, when his time is sped, will quit life in contentment, like a guest who has had his fill.
[tr. Fairclough (Loeb) (1926)]

So it is
That you rarely find someone who admits to having been happy
With the time allotted him, who admits that he has lived well
And lived right and is ready to leave, like one who gets up
From a banquet.
[tr. Palmer Bovie (1959)]

That's why we rarely find anyone who admits he's led
a happy life and is prepared to leave it, pleased
with the time he spent, like a guest after a good dinner.
[tr. Fuchs (1977)]

And therefore it’s hard
To find a man so happy with his life
That he’s ready to leave what he’s thoroughly enjoyed,
Like a guest who’s had all he could want.
[tr. Raffel (1983)]

Hence it happens
that rarely can we find anyone who
admits having lived happily and now,
content with how he hasa spent his years,
retires from the banquet like a satiated guest.
[tr. Alexander (1999)]

No wonder it’s rare that one of them will claim
a happy life or, when that life’s sped past him,
resign like a thankful guest who’s eaten well.
[tr.. Matthews (2002)]

So it is that we can rarely find a man who says
he has lived a happy life and who, when his time is up,
contentedly leaves the world like a guest who has had his fill.
[tr. Rudd (2005 ed.)]

So we can rarely find a man who claims to have lived
A happy life, who when his time is done is content
To go, like a guest at the banquet who is well sated.
[tr. Kline (2015)]

I would have a man to be doing, and to prolong his lives offices, as much as lieth in him, and let death seize upon me, whilst I am setting my cabiges, carelesse of her darte, but more of my unperfect garden.
[tr. Florio (1603)]

I would always have a man to be doing, and, as much as in him lies, to extend, and spin out the Offices of life; and then let Death take me planting Cabages, but without any careful thought of him, and much less of my Garden’s not being finished.
[tr. Cotton (1686)]

I would always have a man to be doing, and spinning out the offices of life as far as possible; and though death should seize me planting my cabbages, I should not be concerned at it, much less for leaving my garden unfinished.
[tr. Friswell (1868)]

I would always have a man to be doing, and, as much as in him lies, to extend and spin out the offices of life; and then let death take me planting my cabbages, indifferent to him, and still less of my gardens not being finished.
[tr. Cotton/Hazlitt (1877)]

I desire that a man should act, and prolong the employments of life as long as he can, and that death may find me planting my cabbages, but indifferent regarding it, and even more regarding my unfinished garden.
[tr. Ives (1925)]

I want death to find me planting my cabbages, but caring little for it, and even less about the imperfections of my garden.
[tr. Rat (1958)]

I want us to be doing things, prolonging life’s duties as much as we can; I want Death to find me planting my cabbages, neither worrying about it nor the unfinished gardening.
[tr. Screech (1987)]

I wish for us to be doing, and to carry on with our responsibilities in life while we still can. I want death to find me planting my cabbages, indifferent to it, with my garden still a work in progress.
[tr. HyperEssays (2024)]

I consider my life belongs to the whole community, and while I last it is my privilege to do what I can for it. I want to be worn out, because the harder I am working, the more I live. I enjoy like for its own sake. It is no "brief candle" for me. It is a sort of glorious torch, which I have got the hold of for the moment, and I want to make it blaze brighter before I hand it on to future generations.

What all of us know put together dont mean anything. Nothing dont mean anything. We are just here for a spell and pass on. Any man that thinks that Civilization has advanced is an egotist. Fords and bathtubs have moved you and cleaned you, but you was just as ignorant when you got there. We know lots of things we used to dident know but we dont know any way to prevent em happening. Confucius perspired out more knowledge than the U.S. Senate has vocalized out in the last 50 years.
We have got more tooth paste on the market, and more misery in our Courts than at any time in our existence. There aint nothing to life but satisfaction. If you want to ship off fat beef cattle at the end of their existence, you got to have em satisfied on the range. Indians and primitive races were the highest civilized, because they were more satisfied, and they depended less on each other, and took less from each other. We couldent live a day without depending on everybody. So our civilization has given us no Liberty or Independence.
Suppose the other Guy quits feeding us. The whole thing is a "Racket," so get a few laughs, do the best you can, take nothing serious, for nothing is certainly depending on this generation. Each one lives in spite of the previous one and not because of it. And dont start “seeking knowledge” for the more you seek the nearer the “Booby Hatch” you get. And dont have an ideal to work for. Thats like riding towards a Mirage of a lake. When you get there it aint there. Believe in something for another World, but dont be too set on what it is, and then you wont start out that life with a disappointment. Live your life so that whenever you lose, you are ahead.