He who gets used to writing seriously and regularly about life will soon see the habit become a necessity which, if neglected and subjected to a period of abstinence, will make his head feel physically like exploding. It is funny how, especially at the beginning, one has to strive to crystallize the habit, one has to force the words to get used to transferring themselves onto paper. In a few years, one can no longer live without it, and the mere lack of a notepad, whether beside one’s bed or under the shower, can cause a tremendous disturbance.
Category: Notes
Writing Impairs the Memory
Some Eastern sage said that writing impairs the memory, and that the memory, if not regularly exercised, impairs knowledge. This was said in order to justify knowledge transmitted orally and only mentally recorded. There may well be a great deal of truth in this. However, there are caveats to be made. Firstly, orality presupposes a speaker and a listener; more often than not, a master and a disciple. The master does himself good by teaching, that is, he exercises his memory in the act of teaching. The disciple, on the other hand, listens to him, and does so only with a view to becoming a master in the future. It is also assumed that the master has had a master. And from this we see that such a statement, although it may be true, presupposes a tradition, an environment, in other words, non-existent for most mortals. Supposing there is no disciple, what would the master do to exercise memory? It is not certain that giving speeches to the walls is the best option.
The Dungeons of Thought
An independent thinker concerned with the ultimate purposes of existence must necessarily lodge for a time in the dungeons of thought. And then to study and know them. Some remain there for life; but it seems, however, that the time comes when he must leave them and return to the previous environment, as the heroes always return from their journeys: transformed and with something to teach.
When the Style Is Imposing and Pleasing
When the style is imposing and pleasing, a passage that does not say anything important can be tolerated. In some cases, one can tolerate more, much more than a single passage, depending on the quality of the author. It is interesting to observe this because it is proof that aesthetic pleasure alone can sustain interest. So metrical poetry, aesthetically and grammatically well constructed, has an obvious advantage and can, by its technique alone, please us. There are many verses which do not have much beyond that, and yet it seems sufficient to us and such verses seem good to us. The same is true of prose, and there are not infrequent examples where we might say that, in short, the style is the author.