As to marriage or celibacy, let a man take which course he will

When Socrates uttered the words, “As to marriage or celibacy, let a man take which course he will, he will be sure to repent,” he was not merely jesting at the misfortunes of men, but revealing a profound truth about the human condition — that no path in life is without sorrow, and that wisdom lies not in avoiding regret, but in understanding it. His words, seemingly humorous, are in fact deeply philosophical: a mirror reflecting the restless nature of the human heart. For whether one chooses companionship or solitude, each choice demands sacrifice, and every sacrifice carries its shadow of longing for what was left behind.

The origin of this quote lies within the dialogues and sayings attributed to Socrates, the ancient Greek philosopher who sought truth through reason and paradox. Known for his sharp irony and penetrating insight into the soul, Socrates often used humor to reveal life’s contradictions. To the Athenian mind, marriage was both a duty and a burden; celibacy, both a freedom and a void. Socrates, who was famously married to Xanthippe, a woman of strong and fiery temperament, knew firsthand the trials of married life — yet his saying transcends personal jest. It is an acknowledgment that all human choices are fraught with imperfection, that contentment cannot be purchased by circumstance alone.

In this paradoxical statement, Socrates teaches that repentance is the companion of consciousness. To marry is to share one’s burdens and joys, yet to lose a measure of independence. To remain celibate is to preserve freedom, yet to feel the ache of solitude. Both are schools of wisdom; both refine the soul through different fires. What he reveals, then, is not cynicism but understanding — that life’s fullness requires the acceptance of its opposites. Whether through the trials of love or the silence of solitude, every path becomes a teacher to the one who listens with humility.

Consider the life of Leo Tolstoy, the great Russian writer and moral philosopher. In his youth, he sought freedom and truth in solitude, scorning worldly attachments. Yet as he aged, he married and fathered many children, only to find himself torn between the call of family and the call of spirit. He loved his wife deeply, yet felt trapped by the worldliness of domestic life. In his final years, he fled his home seeking peace, but died in loneliness — a man who had tasted both marriage and celibacy, and found that neither could still the restlessness of his heart. In him, we see the eternal truth of Socrates’ words made flesh: that man, wherever he turns, must wrestle not with others, but with himself.

Socrates’ statement also invites us to embrace life’s imperfection with humor and grace. He does not speak as one defeated by regret, but as one liberated by acceptance. The wise man, he implies, knows that regret is the echo of desire — and desire, being infinite, can never be wholly satisfied by finite choices. Thus, he laughs not out of mockery, but out of compassion for the folly of mankind. To live, to love, to lose — these are not tragedies, but the texture of existence. The man who can smile at his own contradictions has already risen above them.

At its core, the saying reminds us that no choice spares us from suffering, yet every choice can deepen our understanding if met with awareness. Marriage tests our patience and teaches compassion; celibacy tests our endurance and teaches self-reliance. The wise do not flee either path, but walk whichever they choose with mindfulness and humility, knowing that growth is born not from comfort, but from struggle. The fool blames the road; the sage learns from the journey.

Let this, then, be the teaching preserved for all generations: choose not to escape regret, but to transform it into wisdom. Whether bound by love or free in solitude, remember that joy and sorrow are but two faces of the same divine coin. Accept your path fully, laugh at its ironies, and walk it with courage. For in the end, as Socrates teaches, the goal of life is not to find a path without repentance, but to find peace in the knowledge that every path, when walked with awareness, leads to truth.