Besides, this sort of speech contains a great deal of sheer emptiness; it has more sound than power. My terrors should be quieted, my irritations soothed, my illusions shaken off, my indulgences checked, my greed rebuked. And which of these cures can be brought about in a hurry? What physician can heal his patient on a flying visit?
May I add that such a jargon of confused and ill-chosen words cannot afford pleasure, either? No; but just as you are well satisfied, in the majority of cases, to have seen through tricks which you did not think could possibly be done, so in the case of these word-gymnasts—to have heard them once is amply sufficient.
For what can a man desire to learn or to imitate in them? What is he to think of their souls, when their speech is sent into the charge in utter disorder, and cannot be kept in hand?
May I add that such a jargon of confused and ill-chosen words cannot afford pleasure, either? No; but just as you are well satisfied, in the majority of cases, to have seen through tricks which you did not think could possibly be done, so in the case of these word-gymnasts—to have heard them once is amply sufficient.
For what can a man desire to learn or to imitate in them? What is he to think of their souls, when their speech is sent into the charge in utter disorder, and cannot be kept in hand?
Just as, when you run downhill, you cannot stop at the point where you had decided to stop, but your steps are carried along by the momentum of your body and are borne beyond the place where you wished to halt; so this speed of speech has no control over itself, nor is it seemly for philosophy; since philosophy should carefully place her words, not fling them out, and should proceed step by step.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 40
A problem with “fast” speech is not only that it comes so hurriedly, but also that it has no substance behind it, much like fast food. There may be an immediate appeal to the senses, though after an act of voracious consumption there has been no process of nutrition. Yes, the alluring aroma of french fries has something in common with the slick words of the huckster.
Full of sound fury, signifying nothing?
Even as the attraction is supposedly in the instant gratification, it turns out not to be as “fun” as I might have wished. It may arrive with force, and yet it is blunt, and it does not go deep, and it passes as quickly as it came.
After the fleeting diversion, a longing still remains, and while the fool is driven to fall for the same impulse again and again, the wise man has already untangled the cunning illusion. There is no real joy in it, because there is no truth in it.
I neither wish to be like the trickster, who only deals in images, nor do I wish to be his victim, who surrenders his self-control for idle fancies. In either case, there is a betrayal of integrity, such that I wonder if we all know how we are playing one another, but are afraid to finally admit it, to proclaim that the emperor has no clothes.
The example of recklessly running downhill is quite fitting, one I remember from a time when I was oblivious to the prospect of any injury to the body. Now I am more careful about where I step with my feet, and yet I have been slower to learn about the consequences of my ill-chosen words.
A passion points me in a certain direction, and before I know it, I am swept away by my disregard. It is compounded by then feeling indignant and defensive about my blunder, like a cat pretending it meant to run into the glass.
A problem with “fast” speech is not only that it comes so hurriedly, but also that it has no substance behind it, much like fast food. There may be an immediate appeal to the senses, though after an act of voracious consumption there has been no process of nutrition. Yes, the alluring aroma of french fries has something in common with the slick words of the huckster.
Full of sound fury, signifying nothing?
Even as the attraction is supposedly in the instant gratification, it turns out not to be as “fun” as I might have wished. It may arrive with force, and yet it is blunt, and it does not go deep, and it passes as quickly as it came.
After the fleeting diversion, a longing still remains, and while the fool is driven to fall for the same impulse again and again, the wise man has already untangled the cunning illusion. There is no real joy in it, because there is no truth in it.
I neither wish to be like the trickster, who only deals in images, nor do I wish to be his victim, who surrenders his self-control for idle fancies. In either case, there is a betrayal of integrity, such that I wonder if we all know how we are playing one another, but are afraid to finally admit it, to proclaim that the emperor has no clothes.
The example of recklessly running downhill is quite fitting, one I remember from a time when I was oblivious to the prospect of any injury to the body. Now I am more careful about where I step with my feet, and yet I have been slower to learn about the consequences of my ill-chosen words.
A passion points me in a certain direction, and before I know it, I am swept away by my disregard. It is compounded by then feeling indignant and defensive about my blunder, like a cat pretending it meant to run into the glass.
A philosopher won’t use his words irresponsibly, and so he won’t be consumed by any regret for his impetuous utterances. He works to say it right the first time, however much time and effort it may take.
—Reflection written in 1/2013
No comments:
Post a Comment