lly undisturbed, for he is sometimes cold and hungry, and
so on.[1] He claims, nevertheless, that he suffers less than the
dogmatist, who is beset with two kinds of suffering, one from
the feelings themselves, and also from the conviction that they
are by nature an evil.[2] To the Sceptic nothing is in itself
either an evil or a good, and so he thinks that "he escapes from
difficulties easier."[3] For instance, he who considers riches a
good in themselves, is unhappy in the loss of them, and in
possession of them is in fear of losing them, while the Sceptic,
remembering the Sceptical saying "No more," is untroubled in
whatever condition he may be found, as the loss of riches is no
more an evil than the possession of them is a good.[4] For he
who considers anything good or bad by nature is always troubled,
and when that which seemed good is not present with him, he
thinks that he is tortured by that which is by nature bad, and
follows after what he thinks to be good. Having acquired it,
however, he is not at rest, for his reason tells him that a
sudden change may deprive him of this thing that he considers a
good.[5] The Sceptic, however, endeavours neither to avoid nor
seek anything eagerly.[6]

[1] _Hyp._ I. 30.

[2] _Hyp._ I. 30.

[3] _Hyp._ I. 30; Diog. IX. 11, 61.

[4] _Adv. Math._ XI. 146-160.

[5] _Hyp._ I. 27.

[6] _Hyp._ I. 28.

Ataraxia came to the Sceptic as success in painting the foam on
a horse's mouth came to Apelles the painter. After many attempts
to do this, and many failures, he gave up in despair, and threw
the sponge at the picture that he had used to wipe the colors
from the painting with. As soon as it touched the picture it
produced a representation of the foam.[1] Thus the Sceptics were
never able to attain to ataraxia by examining the anomaly
between the phenomena and the things of thought, but it came to
them of its own accord just when they despaired of finding it.

The intellectual preparation for producing ataraxia, consists in
placing arguments in opposition to each other, both in regard to
phenomena, and to things of the intellect. By placing the
phenomenal in opposition to the phenomenal, the intellectual to
the intellectual, and the phenomenal to the intellectual, and
_vice versa_, the present to the present, past, and future, one
will find that no argument exists that is incontrovertible. It
is not necessary to accept any statement whatever as true,