The mind must be called to account every day. This is what Sextius used to do: at the close of the day, when he retired to his nightly rest, he used to pose questions to his mind: “What fault of yours have you cured today? What defects have you resisted? In what way are you better?”
A person will cease from anger and be more moderate if he knows that every day he has to come before himself as judge. What therefore is more wonderful than this habit of unfolding the entire day?
How fine is the sleep that follows this acknowledgement of oneself, how serene, how deep and free, when the mind has been either praised or admonished, and as its own hidden investigator and assessor has gained knowledge of its own character?
I avail myself of this power, and plead my case daily before myself.
When the light has been removed from sight, and my wife, long since aware of this habit of mine, has fallen silent,I examine my entire day and measure my deeds and words. I hide nothing from myself. I pass over nothing. For why should I fear anything from my own errors, when I can say, “See that you don’t do that again, this time I pardon you.”