Counsels and Maxims From The Essays Of Arthur Schopenhauer

ORTUNE.-S

ou please! point to strange adventures, successes, failures! life is like a sweet-shop, where there is a great variety of things, odd in shape and diverse in color-one and all made from the same paste. And when men speak of some one's success, the lot of t

ee great powers in the world; Sagacity, Strength, and Luck,-[Greek

of little avail; like the rudder, which, if worked hard and continuously, may help in the navigation of the ship; and yet all may be lost again by a sudden squall. But if the wind is only in the right quarter, the s

them, and that we owe them not to any merit on our part, but wholly to the goodness and grace of the giver-at the same time allowing us to cherish the joyful hope of receiving, in all humility, further undeserved g

appened, and his own resolves in regard to them, and these two are constantly interacting upon and modifying each other. And besides these, another influence is at work in the very limited extent of a man's horizon, whether it is that he cannot see very far ahead in respect of the plans he will adopt, or that he is still less able to predict

o advance a step nearer towards the final goal. It is usually the case that the position in which we stand, and the object at which we aim, resemble tw

dit, illud quod cecidit forte, id arte ut corrigas.[1] Or, to put the matter more shortly, life is a game of cards, when the cards are shuffled and dealt by fate. But for my present purpose, the most suitable simile would be that of a game of chess, where th

ve been referring to a game

life, when a man decides upon an important step, his action is directed not so much by any clear knowledge of the right thing to do, as by an inner impulse-you may almost call it an instinct-proceeding from the deepest foundations of his being. If, later on, he attempts to criticise his action by the light of hard and fast ideas of what is right in the abstract-those unprofitable ideas which are learnt by rote, or, it may be, borrowed from ot

d into error, so liable to strike a false note. It is in virtue of some such prophetic dream that a man feels himself called to great achievements in a special sphere, and works in that direction from his youth up out of an inner and secret feeling that that is his true path, jus

er of the soule, set in the highest part thereof, moving and stirring it to good, and abhoring evil." This passage is copied into Milton's Commonplace Book, edit. Horwood, § 79. The word is also found in the Dictionary of the Spanish Academy (vol. vi. of the year 1739) in the sense of an innate discernment of moral principles, where a quotation is given f

rticular case. But every man has certain innate concrete principles-a part, as it were, of the very blood that flows in his veins, the sum or result, in fact, of all his thoughts, feelings and volitions. Usually he has no knowle

ndful of misfortune; in friendship, of enmity; in good weather, of days when the sky is overcast; in love, of hatred; in moments of trust, to imagine the betrayal that will make you regret your confidence; and so, too, when you are in evil plight,

f necessity, and therefore capable of being fully justified; and it is this fact that makes circumstances of every year, every month, even of every day, seem as though they might maintain their right to last to all eternity. But we know t

nd then the sacrifice, in addition to being a complete loss, brings about such an altered state of things as to be in itself a source of positive danger in the face of this new development. In taking measures of pre

n themselves the germ of future change. The effects are all that people know, and they hold fast to them on the supposition that those unknown causes, which were sufficient to bring them about, will also be able to maintain them as they are. This is a very common error; and the fact that it

own in Die Welt als Wille und Vorstellung (Bk. I. p. 94: 4th edit.), that error always consists in

xacting usurer than Time; and that, if you compel Time to give money in advance, you will have to pay a rate of interest more ruinous than any Jew would require. It is possible, for instance, to make a tree burst forth into leaf, blossom, or even bear fruit within a few days, by the application of unslaked lime and artificial heat; but afte

ars without leaving any trace of its existence. But if the sufferer is very impatient, and, while he is still affected, insists that he is completely well, in

itself, which would have happened in due course; but he compels Time to grant him a loan, and his loss is the interest he has to pay. Or perhaps he wants to go on a long journey and requires the money: in one or two years he could lay by a sufficient sum out of his income, but

here is no more thriftless proceeding than to try and mend the m

r in connection with any undertaking, an ordinary man will confine his inquiries to the kind of risk that has already attended such undertakings in the past; whereas a prudent person will look ahead, and consider

res some amount of discernment to calculate possibilities; but a man

ims and denying himself, if he can thereby shut the door on the possibility of misfortune. The most terrible misfortunes are also the most improbable and remote-the least likel

ns; partly because all things are full of change, and your fortune may turn at any moment; par

very best thing for him that could have happened-or rejoiced at an event which became the sourc

grief That the first face of neither

Well that Ends We

which might come. This is the Stoic temper-never to be unmindful of the sad fate of humanity-condicionis humanoe oblitus; but always to remember that our existence is full of woe and misery: and that the ills to which we are exposed are innu

modate himself to a world where all is relative and no perfect state exists;-always

ingle hour is free from them; or still less, call upon the Deity at every flea-bite-in pulicis morsu Deum invocare. Our aim should be to look well about us, to ward off misfortune by going to meet it, to attain such perfection and refinement in averting th

or's Note.-Rev. James

he full title of this,

or the last groans of

w supplementary sigh

l affect us; so that, if it really arrives, it does not depress us unduly-its weight is not felt to be greater than it actually is. But if no preparation has been made to meet it, and it comes unexpectedly, the mind is in a state of terror for the moment and unable to measure the full extent of the calamity; it seems so far-reaching in its effects that the victim might well think

self to the inevitable-to something that must be; and if he knows that nothing can happen except of necessity, he will see that things cannot be other that they are, and that even the strangest chances in the world are just as much a product of nece

reedom of the Will, where the reader will find a detailed explanation of the grounds on

Wille und Vorstellung, B

is truth, he will, first of all, do what h

, armed cap-à-pie, towards the small troubles of every day-those little differences we have with our fellow-men, insignificant disputes, unbecoming conduct in other people, petty gossip, and many other similar annoyances of life; he should n

mer,[1] illustrating the truth of this remark, where the poet praises [GREEK: maetis]-shrewd council; and his advice is worthy of all attention.

Iliad, xxii

he heart and forebodes danger; so true it is that the h

rld would be one who was never

ue that no one can endow himself with either, since a man inherits prudence from his mother and courage fro

e very rightly says that if we succeed, it is at the point of the sword, and that we die with the weapon in our hand-on ne réussit dans ce monde qua la pointe de l'épee, et on meurt les armes à la main. It is a cowardly soul that shrinks or

s sed contra au

Virgil, Aen

me right, no one should ever tremble or think of anything but resistance,-just as a man should not despair of the weather if he

ur orbis Impavidum

: Horace, O

such a cowardly trembling and shrinking of the heart. Therefore,

s Fortiaque adversis

and the etymological account which he gives of its meaning, is very superior to the ancient explanation preserved for us by Plutarch.[1] He connects the expression with Pan the personification of Nature;[2] and observes that fear is innate in every living thing, and, in fact, tends to its preservation, but that it is apt to

De Iside et O

e conservatricem, ac mala ingruentia vitantem et depellentem. Verumtamen eaden natura modum tenere nescia est: sed timoribus salutari