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I lived in a large ceramic jar — a pithos, not a barrel — in the Agora of Athens. This was not poverty. It was argument. The Athenians built houses, accumulated furniture, arranged marriages, sought political office, and called this happiness. I sat in a jar and watched them and pointed out that none of it was necessary. They thought I was mad. I thought they were mad. We were both partially correct.

Alexander the Great came to see me and asked if there was anything he could do for me. I told him to stand out of my sunlight. He said, 'If I were not Alexander, I would wish to be Diogenes.' I was not flattering him. I genuinely believed that to need nothing was greater than to conquer everything. He conquered everything and died at thirty-two. I lived in my jar until I was ninety.