Color Version Articles That Influence a Lifetime -- Speeches That Shape Your Life

Author: Hu Shi, Rousseau
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2005-08-01
Features: Two things that are almost incompatible are united in me in a way I can't imagine: a passionate nature, rushing emotions, and slow, stagnant thoughts. It seems my mind and my thoughts do not belong to the same person. Emotions that strike faster than lightning seize my heart, but they do not enlighten me—they only stir me, confuse me. I feel everything, but I understand nothing. I am irritable and insensitive; I can only think after calming down. Strangely enough, as long as others are patient, I can still demonstrate quite reliable intuition, insight, and even sensitivity. "If I have enough time, I can write excellent impromptu poetry." But I have never been able to write anything decent on the spot or speak any meaningful words off the cuff. In correspondence, I can talk at length as they say: like a Spaniard playing chess. In a book I once read, the author described how the Duke of Savoy, on his way back to his hometown from Paris, turned around and shouted, "Paris merchants, I will not spare you!" I thought, "That’s me!" This sluggish thought coexisting with keen sensitivity is not just evident in conversation but also when I am alone or working. It is exceptionally difficult to organize the thoughts in my mind: they move slowly within it, boil within it, until they stir me, excite me, and agitate me; and during this entire emotional turmoil, everything around me is blurred. I cannot write a single word—I must wait. This emotional surge gradually subsides, the chaos gradually reveals itself, and everything falls into place, but all of this is slow and requires long, tumultuous disturbance. If I could wait and recreate the beautiful appearances of things that have appeared in my mind, few writers could surpass me. That is why it is so hard for me to put pen to paper. My manuscripts are scribbled, disorganized, and impossible to decipher due to repeated corrections—this is evidence of the price I pay. I have no manuscript that has not gone through four or five revisions before being sent for printing. Facing a desk and paper, I cannot write a single word, but I can create in my mind while walking, in the woods, or in the stillness of the night. For someone completely without a memory for words, someone who has never been able to memorize six lines of poetry in a lifetime, one can imagine how slow my writing must be. Some harmonious, long sentences that I have in my head have been revised in my mind for five or six nights before being put into writing. That is also why I am better at writing works that require refinement. Even to write a letter about something trivial, I spend hours of effort; or if I want to record something I just experienced, I don’t know how to begin or how to end it; my letters are full of rambling nonsense, hard to understand. I am not only clumsy at expressing my thoughts but even struggle to form opinions. I have studied people and consider myself quite observant, yet I cannot grasp anything before me—I can only discern things from memory, and my reason exists only in my reflections on the past. For everything people say, do, or happen in front of me, I have no sense of it—I am lost. What impresses me are only external signs. Sometimes these things resurface in my mind: I remember the places, times, tones, glances, actions, and surroundings, and everything becomes vivid again. At such times, based on people’s behavior or words, I can discern their thoughts and rarely make mistakes. Since I cannot control my thoughts when alone, one can imagine what I am like in conversation. To speak appropriately, one must consider many factors at once and immediately. Etiquette is so complex, and I inevitably make mistakes, which is enough to make me reluctant to engage. I even cannot understand how people dare to speak in front of others: because every word must be considered in relation to everyone present; one must know everyone’s personalities and experiences to be sure not to say anything offensive. Two people talking face-to-face is even more awkward, because constant speech is a need: one must respond when the other speaks, and one must keep the conversation lively when the other is silent. This unbearable has already made me lose interest in social life; talking for the sake of talking inevitably leads to nonsense, which is tedious. This is why people see many extraordinary behaviors in me that they attribute to my eccentricity, yet I do not possess such a personality. If I were not certain that my image in social life is not only disadvantageous to me but also completely different from my true self, I might enjoy social life just like others. Immersing myself in writing and hiding away is the most suitable choice for me.