Lu Ji (Shiheng)

Lu Ji (c. 261 – c. November 303), courtesy name Shiheng, was a Chinese essayist, military general, politician, and writer who lived during the late Three Kingdoms period and Jin dynasty of China. He wrote much lyric poetry but is best remembered for the Wen fu (文賦; Essay on Literature), a piece of literary criticism that discourses on the principles of composition.

Caught between the unborn and the living, the writer struggles to maintain both depth and surface.

When cutting an axe handle with an axe, surely the model is at hand.

It is like following a branch to find the trembling leaves.

Quotes

Wen fu (文賦; Essay on Literature)

Unless otherwise stated the translations used here are by Sam Hamill, and are taken from The Wen fu of Lu Chi (Portland, OR: Breitenbush Books, 1987)

• This may be easy to know, but it is difficult to put in practice.
  • p. 9
• When cutting an axe handle with an axe, surely the model is at hand.
  • p. 9
• He learns to recite the classics; he sings in the clear fragrance of the old masters
  He explores the treasures of the classics where form and content join.
  • p. 10
• It is like following a branch to find the trembling leaves, like following a stream to find the spring.
  • p. 12
• Caught between the unborn and the living, the writer struggles to maintain both depth and surface.
  • p. 15
• Knowing order is like opening a dam in the river.
  Not knowing is like grabbing the tail to direct the head of the dragon.
  • p. 17
• However the sentences branch and spread, they grow out of well-placed phrases.
  • p. 19
• There are no new ideas, only those which rhyme with certain classics.
  • p. 20
• A single note from the lute, however beautiful, is not music.
  • p. 22
• The sleeves of dancers move with the melodies; the voices of singers rise and fall with the music.
  P'ien the Wheelwright tried to explain it, but couldn't; nor can the artificial flowers of critics describe it.
  • p.24
• We carry the bucket from the well, but it is soon again empty.
  • p. 25
• We hear the jade bell's laughter and think it laughs at us; for the poet there is terror in the dust.
  • p. 25
• The dark inside of the mind lies hidden; thoughts must be brought like a child from the womb, terrified and screaming.
  • p. 27
• Through letters there is no road too distant to travel, no idea too confusing tb be ordered.
  It comes like rain from clouds; it renews the vital spirit.
  Inscribed on bronze and marble, it honours every virtue; it sings through flute and strings, and every day is made newer.
  • p. 28

External links

• 1991 translation of the Wen fu