Not finding an explanation in science I began to seek for it

in life, hoping to find it among the people around me. And I began

to observe how the people around me — people like myself — lived,

and what their attitude was to this question which had brought me

to despair.

And this is what I found among people who were in the same

position as myself as regards education and manner of life.

I found that for people of my circle there were four ways out

of the terrible position in which we are all placed.

The first was that of ignorance. It consists in not knowing,

not understanding, that life is an evil and an absurdity. People

of this sort — chiefly women, or very young or very dull people —

have not yet understood that question of life which presented

itself to Schopenhauer, Solomon, and Buddha. They see neither the

dragon that awaits them nor the mice gnawing the shrub by which

they are hanging, and they lick the drops of honey. but they lick

those drops of honey only for a while: something will turn their

attention to the dragon and the mice, and there will be an end to

their licking. From them I had nothing to learn — one cannot

cease to know what one does know.

The second way out is epicureanism. It consists, while

knowing the hopelessness of life, in making use meanwhile of the

advantages one has, disregarding the dragon and the mice, and

licking the honey in the best way, especially if there is much of

it within reach. Solomon expresses this way out thus: “Then I

commended mirth, because a man hath no better thing under the sun,

than to eat, and to drink, and to be merry: and that this should

accompany him in his labour the days of his life, which God giveth

him under the sun.

“Therefore eat thy bread with joy and drink thy wine with a

merry heart…. Live joyfully with the wife whom thou lovest all

the days of the life of thy vanity…for this is thy portion in

life and in thy labours which thou takest under the sun….

Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might, for there

is not work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom, in the grave,

whither thou goest.”

That is the way in which the majority of people of our circle

make life possible for themselves. Their circumstances furnish

them with more of welfare than of hardship, and their moral

dullness makes it possible for them to forget that the advantage of

their position is accidental, and that not everyone can have a

thousand wives and palaces like Solomon, that for everyone who has

a thousand wives there are a thousand without a wife, and that for

each palace there are a thousand people who have to build it in the

sweat of their brows; and that the accident that has today made me

a Solomon may tomorrow make me a Solomon’s slave. The dullness of

these people’s imagination enables them to forget the things that

gave Buddha no peace — the inevitability of sickness, old age, and

death, which today or tomorrow will destroy all these pleasures.

So think and feel the majority of people of our day and our

manner of life. The fact that some of these people declare the

dullness of their thoughts and imaginations to be a philosophy,

which they call Positive, does not remove them, in my opinion, from

the ranks of those who, to avoid seeing the question, lick the

honey. I could not imitate these people; not having their dullness

of imagination I could not artificially produce it in myself. I

could not tear my eyes from the mice and the dragon, as no vital

man can after he has once seen them.

The third escape is that of strength and energy. It consists

in destroying life, when one has understood that it is an evil and

an absurdity. A few exceptionally strong and consistent people act

so. Having understood the stupidity of the joke that has been

played on them, and having understood that it is better to be dead

than to be alive, and that it is best of all not to exist, they act

accordingly and promptly end this stupid joke, since there are

means: a rope round one’s neck, water, a knife to stick into one’s

heart, or the trains on the railways; and the number of those of

our circle who act in this way becomes greater and greater, and for

the most part they act so at the best time of their life, when the

strength of their mind is in full bloom and few habits degrading to

the mind have as yet been acquired.

I saw that this was the worthiest way of escape and I wished

to adopt it.

The fourth way out is that of weakness. It consists in seeing

the truth of the situation and yet clinging to life, knowing in

advance that nothing can come of it. People of this kind know that

death is better than life, but not having the strength to act

rationally — to end the deception quickly and kill themselves —

they seem to wait for something. This is the escape of weakness,

for if I know what is best and it is within my power, why not yield

to what is best? … I found myself in that category.

So people of my class evade the terrible contradiction in four

ways. Strain my attention as I would, I saw no way except those

four. One way was not to understand that life is senseless,

vanity, and an evil, and that it is better not to live. I could

not help knowing this, and when I once knew it could not shut my

eyes to it. the second way was to use life such as it is without

thinking of the future. And I could not do that. I, like Sakya

Muni, could not ride out hunting when I knew that old age,

suffering, and death exist. My imagination was too vivid. Nor

could I rejoice in the momentary accidents that for an instant

threw pleasure to my lot. The third way, having under stood that

life is evil and stupid, was to end it by killing oneself. I

understood that, but somehow still did not kill myself. The fourth

way was to live like Solomon and Schopenhauer — knowing that life

is a stupid joke played upon us, and still to go on living, washing

oneself, dressing, dining, talking, and even writing books. This

was to me repulsive and tormenting, but I remained in that

position.

I see now that if I did not kill myself it was due to some dim

consciousness of the invalidity of my thoughts. However convincing

and indubitable appeared to me the sequence of my thoughts and of

those of the wise that have brought us to the admission of the

senselessness of life, there remained in me a vague doubt of the

justice of my conclusion.

It was like this: I, my reason, have acknowledged that life

is senseless. If there is nothing higher than reason (and there is

not: nothing can prove that there is), then reason is the creator

of life for me. If reason did not exist there would be for me no

life. How can reason deny life when it is the creator of life? Or

to put it the other way: were there no life, my reason would not

exist; therefore reason is life’s son. Life is all. Reason is its

fruit yet reason rejects life itself! I felt that there was

something wrong here.

Life is a senseless evil, that is certain, said I to myself.

Yet I have lived and am still living, and all mankind lived and

lives. How is that? Why does it live, when it is possible not to

live? Is it that only I and Schopenhauer are wise enough to

understand the senselessness and evil of life?

The reasoning showing the vanity of life is not so difficult,

and has long been familiar to the very simplest folk; yet they have

lived and still live. How is it they all live and never think of

doubting the reasonableness of life?

My knowledge, confirmed by the wisdom of the sages, has shown

me that everything on earth — organic and inorganic — is all most

cleverly arranged — only my own position is stupid. and those

fools — the enormous masses of people — know nothing about how

everything organic and inorganic in the world is arranged; but they

live, and it seems to them that their life is very wisely arranged!

…

And it struck me: “But what if there is something I do not

yet know? Ignorance behaves just in that way. Ignorance always

says just what I am saying. When it does not know something, it

says that what it does not know is stupid. Indeed, it appears that

there is a whole humanity that lived and lives as if it understood

the meaning of its life, for without understanding it could not

live; but I say that all this life is senseless and that I cannot

live.

“Nothing prevents our denying life by suicide. well then,

kill yourself, and you won’t discuss. If life displeases you, kill

yourself! You live, and cannot understand the meaning of life —

then finish it, and do not fool about in life, saying and writing

that you do not understand it. You have come into good company

where people are contented and know what they are doing; if you

find it dull and repulsive — go away!”

Indeed, what are we who are convinced of the necessity of

suicide yet do not decide to commit it, but the weakest, most

inconsistent, and to put it plainly, the stupidest of men, fussing

about with our own stupidity as a fool fusses about with a painted

hussy? For our wisdom, however indubitable it may be, has not

given us the knowledge of the meaning of our life. But all mankind

who sustain life — millions of them — do not doubt the meaning of

life.

Indeed, from the most distant time of which I know anything,

when life began, people have lived knowing the argument about the

vanity of life which has shown me its senselessness, and yet they

lived attributing some meaning to it.

From the time when any life began among men they had that

meaning of life, and they led that life which has descended to me.

All that is in me and around me, all, corporeal and incorporeal, is

the fruit of their knowledge of life. Those very instruments of

thought with which I consider this life and condemn it were all

devised not be me but by them. I myself was born, taught, and

brought up thanks to them. They dug out the iron, taught us to cut

down the forests, tamed the cows and horses, taught us to sow corn

and to live together, organized our life, and taught me to think

and speak. And I, their product, fed, supplied with drink, taught

by them, thinking with their thoughts and words, have argued that

they are an absurdity! “There is something wrong,” said I to

myself. “I have blundered somewhere.” But it was a long time

before I could find out where the mistake was.