Epictetus on Insults
"If anyone tells you that someone speaks ill of you, do not make excuses, but answer: ‘He does not know my other faults, else he would not have mentioned only these.’" Epictetus swings a sharp sword against pride.
Unknown — "Marble head of a Greek general" (1st–2nd century CE), public domain
His retort in Greek, then and now.
Epictetus, in the Enchiridion (33.8), writes: «Εἰπεῖτα εἴ τις σοι εἴπῃ ὅτι ἄλλος σε κακῶς λέγει, μὴ ἀπολογοῦ, ἀλλὰ ἔλεγε ὅτι ‘ὠφελέστερον τοῦτο, ὅτι οὐκ ᾔδει τἄλλα μου ἐλαττώματα, εἰ μὴ ταῦτα μόνον εἶπεν.’» — "If anyone tells you that someone speaks ill of you, do not make excuses, but answer: ‘He does not know my other faults, else he would not have mentioned only these.’" This is not self-deprecation—it’s deflection by indifference.
Why Epictetus laughed at insults.
For Epictetus, taking offense wastes energy you could spend reigning over yourself. He taught that what others say is outside your control—so let it bounce. Laugh at your own flaws before the world can hurt you. For a man who survived slavery, this tactic wasn’t weakness. It was armor, light as air.
The man who taught emperors from a wooden leg.
Epictetus walked with a limp, likely from a broken leg during slavery. He taught exiles, senators, and even a future emperor in a bare room, not a marble hall. He believed freedom and dignity live in how you answer abuse, not what you own. In a culture obsessed with status, he flipped the script—still useful every time a critic comes for you online.
Epictetus, once a slave, saw insults as trivial compared to self-mastery. His humor slices deeper than outrage—and it’s disarming even 2,000 years later.
