who has the power over the things which you seek to gain
or try to avoid.

* * * * *

HOW MAGNANIMITY IS CONSISTENT WITH CARE.--Things themselves (materials)
are indifferent; but the use of them is not indifferent. How then shall
a man preserve firmness and tranquillity, and at the same time be
careful and neither rash nor negligent? If he imitates those who play at
dice. The counters are indifferent; the dice are indifferent. How do I
know what the cast will be? But to use carefully and dexterously the
cast of the dice, this is my business. Thus then in life also the chief
business is this: distinguish and separate things, and say: Externals
are not in my power: will is in my power. Where shall I seek the good
and the bad? Within, in the things which are my own. But in what does
not belong to you call nothing either good or bad, or profit or damage
or anything of the kind.

What then? Should we use such things carelessly? In no way: for this on
the other hand is bad for the faculty of the will, and consequently
against nature; but we should act carefully because the use is not
indifferent, and we should also act with firmness and freedom from
perturbations because the material is indifferent. For where the
material is not indifferent, there no man can hinder me or compel me.
Where I can be hindered and compelled, the obtaining of those things is
not in my power, nor is it good or bad; but the use is either bad or
good, and the use is in my power. But it is difficult to mingle and to
bring together these two things--the carefulness of him who is affected
by the matter (or things about him), and the firmness of him who has no
regard for it; but it is not impossible: and if it is, happiness is
impossible. But we should act as we do in the case of a voyage. What can
I do? I can choose the master of the ship, the sailors, the day, the
opportunity. Then comes a storm. What more have I to care for? for my
part is done. The business belongs to another, the master. But the ship
is sinking--what then have I to do? I do the only thing that I can, not
to be drowned full of fear, nor screaming nor blaming God, but knowing
that what has been produced must also perish: for I am not an immortal
being, but a man, a part of the whole, as an hour is a part of the day:
I must be present like the hour, and past like the hour. What difference
then does it make to me how I pass away, whether by being suffoca