How strange is the lot1 of us mortals2! Each of us is here for a brief sojourn3; for what purpose he knows not, though he sometimes thinks he senses it. But without deeper reflection4 one knows from daily life that one exists for other people—first of all for those upon whose smiles and well-being our own happiness is wholly dependent5, and then for the many, unknown to us, to whose destinies we are bound by the ties of sympathy6. A hundred times every day I remind myself that my inner and outer life are based on the labors of other men, living and dead, and that I must exert myself7 in order to give in the same measure8 as I have received and am still receiving. I am strongly drawn to a frugal9 life and am often oppressively10 aware that I am engrossing11 an undue12 amount of the labor of my fellow-men. I regard class distinctions as unjustified and, in the last resort, based on force.13 I also believe that a simple and un- assuming life14 is good for everybody, physically and mentally.
I do not at all believe in human freedom in the philosophical sense15. Everybody acts not only under external compulsion16 but also in accordance with inner necessity. Schopenh- auer’s17 saying, “A man can do what he wants, but not want what he wants,”18 has been a very real inspiration19 to me since my youth; it has been a continual consolation20 in the face of life’s hardships, my own and others’, and an unfailing wellspring of tolerance21. This realization mercifully22 mitigates23 the easily paralyzing24 sense of responsibility and prevents us from taking ourselves and other people all too seriously; it is conducive to25 a view of life which, in particular, gives humor its due26.
To inquire after27 the meaning or object of one’s own existence or that of all creatures has always seemed to me absurd28 from an objective point of view. And yet everybody has certain ideals which determine the direction of his endeavors29 and his judgments. In this sense I have never looked upon ease and happiness as ends30 in themselves—this ethical31 basis I call the ideal of pigsty32. The ideals which have lighted my way, and time after time have given me new courage to face life cheerfully, have been Kindness, Beauty, and Truth. Without the sense of kinship33 with men of like mind34, without the occupation with35 the objective world, the eternally unattainable in the field of art and scientific endeavors36, life would have seemed to me empty. The trite37 objects of human efforts—possessions, outward success, luxury—have always seemed to me contemptible38.
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