Epictetus, The Handbook 38: Right Speech

. . . Be silent for the most part, or, if you speak, say only what is necessary and in a few words.

 Talk, but rarely, if occasion calls you, but do not talk of ordinary things—of gladiators, or horse-races, or athletes, or of meats or drinks—these are topics that arise everywhere—but above all do not talk about men in blame or compliment or comparison.

If you can, turn the conversation of your company by your talk to some fitting subject; but if you should chance to be isolated among strangers, be silent. Do not laugh much, nor at many things, nor without restraint. . . .

—Epictetus, The Handbook, Chapter 33 (tr Matheson)

I immediately think of the old aphorism, sometimes attributed to Mark Twain, that it is better to remain silent and be thought a fool, than to speak out and remove all doubt.

Perhaps we are uncertain, nervous, or frustrated by silence, but we all have the tendency to speak far too much. I try to rein myself in by remembering my mother’s example. Throughout her life, whenever she was asked why she was being so quiet, and not joining in the fiery conversation of the moment, she would calmly say, “ I am a silent creature.”

Words mean things, and I abuse them when I use them too lightly. In doing so, I disrespect myself, and I disrespect others.

I have also learned that not all topics of conversation are worthy of our time and effort. Petty speech, about vain frivolities, does nothing but reveal my own inner vanity and frivolity. I am hardly more important or relevant in this life the more I make myself heard, and I am hardly wiser or better when I pontificate about shallow interests.

Even more importantly, petty speech deeply harms justice when it takes on the form of gossip and slander. I know how tempting it is to blame or praise others, but this is usually done not out of respect at all, but rather from self-importance or flattery. I lower or raise others to glorify myself.

I have often found that as soon as I am qualifying a statement “with all due respect,” or “he’s a wonderful fellow, but . . .” the chances are good that I am really just playing games.

I spent too many years thinking I was in a friendship with someone because we shared so well in putting down other people. I did not learn quickly enough that I was being put down just as much when I was out of earshot. Such an unpleasant memory reminds me again how much our words mean.

Because I become too easily impassioned by principle, and therefore will not suffer fools gladly, I will sometimes think it best to challenge the boasting and pettiness of others. I have done nothing, of course, but become boastful and petty myself.

If a friendly change of topic cannot steer a conversation right by good example, it is often best to say nothing at all. If I am frustrated by so many words that mean so little, I should start at home and simply use my own words more wisely.

Finally, laughter in the joy of fellowship is one thing, but laughter from dismissal and ridicule is quite another. I find the latter far more common than the former, so I try to laugh sparingly. A dozen mocking snorts can never hold a candle to a single friendly smile.

Written in 6/2009

Image: Arnold Lakhovsky, The Conversation (c. 1935)