Epictetus, Discourses 2.15.5

“If you force me to this, I would fain die.” 
 
Why, man, what has happened? 
 
“I have decided.” 
 
Lucky for me that you have not decided to kill me. 
 
“I do not take fees.” 
 
Why? 
 
“I have decided." 

 
Let me tell you that the same energy with which you now refuse to take fees may incline you one day (what is to prevent it?) to take them and to say again, “I have decided.” 
 
Just as in an ailing body, which suffers from a flux, the flux inclines now to this part and now to that, so it is with a weak mind: no one can tell which way it sways, but when this swaying and drift has energy to back it, then the mischief becomes past help and remedy. 

—from Epictetus, Discourses 2.15 

 
I can recall so many times when the people around me were being obstinate, and so many more when I was the one who wouldn’t give an inch, that reliving those petty struggles fills me with disgust. Was I the one who started it, or did I justify myself on only being the one who would finish it? Does it even matter? Any hope for progress is lost at that moment when I can’t bear to confess my error. 
 
We laugh when children hold their breaths in protest, and yet the adults do much the same, just in more refined and cunning ways. I have engaged in battles with men in suits that never moved beyond the immaturity of the playground, and I have traded “I love you’s” as if they were no more than tokens for bragging rights. We put on such a show because we have abandoned any measure beyond our own pride. 
 
Here is a fine lesson I wish I had learned much earlier: if you are looking for the fellow who is acting in good faith, find the one who is perfectly happy to lose face. He is working from a far higher standard. 
 
I get so frustrated with others when they remain stubborn, and I feel so ashamed of myself when I remain stubborn. To dwell on this is itself another form of stubbornness, of clinging to what should be left in the past, so I will refrain from any further examples, however instructive or humorous they may be.
 
Now you would think that insistent people would never change their minds, taking their pledges to the grave, and yet they are just as likely to stand their ground for a mere day as they are for an entire decade. As Epictetus observes, the strength of their commitment proceeds from the intensity of an immediate passion, not from any grounding in a timeless truth, so there is really no way to predict where things might stand tomorrow. How tiring such a life becomes! 
 
In order to avoid the exhausting back-and-forth, the constant waffling that comes from confusing a preference with a principle, it is best to look before we leap, to seek out a certainty in our judgments. If this means going slow, then so be it. Take the small steps before making the bigger ones. Don’t allow the impulsive folks to drag you along. 
 
Despite all of this, mistakes will still be made, and the trick is then to transform those blunders into a means for self-improvement. A man can never learn to be right if he can never admit that he was wrong. 

—Reflection written in 9/2001