Chapter 115 Conclusion - 4

Some people mutter that we Americans and modern people in general are intellectually dwarfs compared with the ancients, even with the people of the Elizabethan era.What do you mean by that?A living dog is better than a dead lion.Should a man be hanged if he is a dwarf?Why can't he be the longest of the dwarfs.Each should mind his own affairs and devote himself to his duty. Why are we so eager to succeed that we engage in such absurd enterprises?If a man cannot keep up with his mates, it may be because he is listening to a different kind of drum.Let him walk to the beat of the music he hears, no matter the beat or the distance.It does not matter whether he should ripen as quickly as an apple tree or an oak, should he make his spring his summer?If the conditions we demand are not enough, what is any reality that we can substitute?Let's not wreck the boat on an empty reality.Shall we labor to build above our heads a sky of blue glass, though when finished we shall gaze at the much farther real sky as if it had never been built?

In Keluo City, there is an artist who pursues perfection.One day he wanted to make a walking stick.He thought that as long as there is a time factor, it cannot be a perfect work of art. For any perfect work, time does not exist, so he said to himself, even if I don’t do anything else in my life, I will make it work. Perfectly done.He immediately went to the forest to look for wood. He had decided not to use the unsuitable material. While he was searching, picking out wood after wood and throwing it away, his friends gradually left him. , because they all died after working until they were old, but he was not old at all.His single-mindedness, steadfastness, and high piety endowed him with imperceptible eternal youth.Because he didn't compromise with time, time just stood aside and sighed, there was nothing he could do about it.He hadn't found a suitable material yet, Keluo city was already an ancient ruin, and later he sat on the ruins, peeling the bark of a branch.He has not yet given it a shape, the Kandahar dynasty is over.With the point of his stick he wrote in the sand the name of the last man of that people, and went on working again.When he polished his staff, Kalb was no longer the North Star; before he put on the gold hoop and jeweled head, Brahma had woken up several times.Why am I bringing up these words?When at last it was finished, it suddenly became radiant, the most beautiful work among the worlds created by Brahma, who created in the staff of creation a new system, a new world of beauty and proportion; And though all are gone, a new and more glorious age and city have arisen in their place.But now he sees the shavings still freshly piled under his feet. For him and his work, the so-called passage of time is just an illusion. It's like tinder in the minds of several people.The material is pure, his art is pure; how can the result not be magical?

We can give physical appearances, none of which in the end serve us so well as truth.There is only truth, which will never be concealed.Generally speaking, we do not exist in this place, but in a false position.Just because we are fragile by nature, we assume one situation and put ourselves into it, so there are two situations at the same time, and it is doubly difficult for us to get out of it.When we are awake, we only pay attention to the facts, to the actual situation.Say what you want to say, don't say what you should say.Any truth is better than falsehood.Tinker Tom Hyde, standing on the scaffold, asked him if he had anything to say. "Tell the tailors," he said, "not to forget to tie a knot at the end of their thread before the first stitch." His mate's prayers were forgotten.