There lives a man who has no head. A man with a blank stare, a stranger to all the rest. This man feels a symphony of emotion, yet he denies them power over him. He sits with no head and gazes out into the world, staring out onto things with stoic indifference. His mind races with thought, just like all minds do, but this thought holds no power over him. This man is a stoic, external events bother him less because of the power that lies within the neutral judgement of things; neutral judgement permits external things no power over him, for how can they? How can rain perturb the emotions of a man if he wishes no for dryness or wetness? How can anxiety grip a man who has no preference for the order of things?
“Who then is invincible? The one who cannot be upset by anything outside their reasoned choice.“ — Epictetus