I had been fooled, deceived, yes by a man full of wisdom, but also by a man full of folly. This excitement caused me to awake, and after thinking about the dream for a while, I thought of something I had read long ago in a book.
“Be not too hasty,” said Imlac, “to trust or to admire the teachers of morality: they discourse like angels, but they live like men.” I have always liked the “they discourse like angels but they live like men” part of this sentence. It speaks to a certain irony in wisdom and knowledge, that it is a strange phenomenon to have a direct answer to a direct problem but not have the ability to carry out that solution.
How many times has a friend come to you with a problem and you have the solid answer or solution for your friend’s problem and once you tell them of it they go and carry it out and solve their problem? And how many times have you had the same problem yourself but were unable to carry out that solid solution? It almost goes hand and hand with the idea that you might have a problem in life that you allow yourself to indulge in, but you would be damned if you would allow a dear one to suffer from that same problem. A clear example is suicide; one might contemplate it, but if given the opportunity to talk someone else out of it, they would do so and perform at the highest order.
If we cannot rely on the words of the wise who speak to us as if they were angelic, what can we rely on? Perhaps we rely on the fragile complexity of understanding. Nietzsche was liked not because he knew things of philosophy and could explain them which would demonstrate an ability of understanding; no, he demonstrated his understanding by his reaction to life and its woes, which was to become sad, because philosophy is in many parts the study of truth and more often than not the truth hurts and makes us sad. His reaction tells us he understood such a human element of being, and we can see this not by his explanations but by his reactions.
Even though he came to us and spoke to us as if from an otherworldly place, he suffered like man and therefore lived like man. We can be extraordinary in our words, but none of us can ever become angels.
Summary of the Text
The text is a philosophical reflection on the profound and often ironic gap between wisdom (discourse) and action (living). The author argues that true understanding is not merely the ability to articulate a solution or a moral truth, but is instead demonstrated by one’s authentic, human, and often pained reaction to that truth. Using examples from literature (Imlac), personal experience, and philosophy (Nietzsche), the author concludes that while our words can be “angelic,” our shared, flawed humanity is the inescapable foundation of our existence.
Breakdown of the Argument
- The Premise: The Wise FoolThe author begins with a dream about a “man full of wisdom, but also… full of folly.” This establishes the central conflict: the paradox of a single person embodying both profound insight and human fallibility. This dream serves as a catalyst, triggering the memory of the text’s central thesis.
- The Core Thesis: “Angels vs. Men”The author introduces a quote attributed to Imlac (from Samuel Johnson’s Rasselas): “they discourse like angels, but they live like men.”
- “Discourse like angels”: This represents theoretical wisdom—the ability to speak with moral clarity, offer perfect solutions, and articulate objective truths as if from a divine, detached perspective.
- “Live like men”: This represents human fallibility—the inability to apply that same wisdom to one’s own life, being subject to emotion, weakness, and self-indulgence.The author identifies the “irony” in this gap: knowing the answer but lacking the “ability to carry out that solution.”
- The Experiential Proof: The “Friend’s Problem”The text moves from a literary quote to a universal, relatable analogy.
- It is easy to give “solid” advice to a friend, who then successfully implements it.
- It is incredibly difficult to apply that exact same advice to one’s own identical problem.This analogy perfectly illustrates the “angel vs. man” dichotomy. When advising a friend, we are detached, objective “angels.” When facing our own problem, we are “men,” mired in the subjective, emotional complexity of our own lives. The extension to the suicide example reinforces this: one might “indulge” in the problem personally but would perform “at the highest order” (act like an angel) to save another.
- The Pivot: From “Words” to “Understanding”The author then asks the critical question: If the “angelic words” of the wise are unreliable (because they are spoken by “men”), what can we rely on?
- The proposed answer is not words but “the fragile complexity of understanding.”
- This shifts the criterion for wisdom. Wisdom is no longer about what you say (discourse) but about what you understand, and that understanding is proven by how you react.
- The Resolution: The Case of NietzscheNietzsche is presented as the ultimate example of this authentic understanding.
- He is “liked” not just because he could explain philosophy (discourse like an angel).
- He is valued because his reaction to life—his sadness—proved he truly understood the painful truths of philosophy.His sadness (“he suffered like man”) was not a failure of his philosophy; it was the evidence of it. His “living like man” authenticated his “angelic discourse.”
Conclusion and Central Theme
The final paragraph synthesizes this idea. The text resolves the initial paradox of the “wise fool.” The wise man (like Nietzsche) does speak from an “otherworldly place,” but his wisdom is only made credible because he “suffered like man.”
The text’s final message is that this gap isn’t a sign of hypocrisy, but a fundamental part of the human condition. We cannot rely on words alone. We must rely on the shared, lived, and often painful experience of wisdom. The ultimate “folly” from the first paragraph is not stupidity; it is the inescapable, flawed humanity that binds us all, even the wisest among us. No amount of “extraordinary words” can change the fact that we “live like men.”