Seneca,

There seems to be two sorts of people, those who know from an early age exactly what they are meant to do, and those who have to find it.  Of the latter sort, there are those who do, and those who do not.

I don’t know what causes this distinction in the first.  And hopefully I figure out what causes it in the second.

For whatever we do ought to be in harmony with this; no man can set in order the details unless he has already set before himself the chief purpose of his life. The artist may have his colours all prepared, but he cannot produce a likeness unless he has already made up his mind what he wishes to paint.  The reason we make mistakes is because we all consider the parts of life, but never life as a whole. The archer must know what he is seeking to hit; then he must aim and control the weapon by his skill. Our plans miscarry because they have no aim. When a man does not know what harbour he is making for, no wind is the right wind.

It’d be a shame for quarter-life crisis to just roll right into the mid-life one.

Farewell.

Part of Michel Daw’s Reading Plan of Seneca’s Letters.