Each day as the last. A definition of "the perfection of character" (τελειότης τοῦ ἤθους) in a single formula: EXERCISEto pass every day as the last (ὡς τελευταίαν). This is not gloom but composure: the mortal horizon cuts off postponement and pettiness, giving each day the fullness of something completed (cf. 2.5, 2.11; 7.56 — to reckon yourself already dead). Perfection lies not in heroic strain but in the right tuning of the ordinary day.

Three negations. The tuning is set by three "nots," three corruptions of disposition:

• μήτε σφύζειν — "not to throb": not to run a fever, not to vibrate with excitement or anxiety (the same verb for catching another's passion in 7.43);
• μήτε ναρκᾶν — "not to go numb": not to fall into torpor, apathy, sluggishness — the opposite extreme;
• μήτε ὑποκρίνεσθαι — "not to act a part": not to play a role, not to pretend (ὑποκριτής — an actor); not to live for show.

Between the tremor and the stupor — a steady flame; instead of the mask — authenticity. The mortal horizon cures all three: in the face of the last day, to fuss is empty, to go numb is a waste, and to pretend is for no one. Cf. 1.15 (in Maximus, evenness without affectation), 03-05 (neither pose nor complaint). The governing discipline is action (the tuning of the day); the sustaining one, desire (the acceptance of finitude).