The folly of mistaking a paradox for a discovery, a metaphor for

“The folly of mistaking a paradox for a discovery, a metaphor for a proof, a torrent of verbiage for a spring of capital truths, and oneself for an oracle, is inborn in us.” Thus wrote Paul Valéry, poet and philosopher, whose words ring like a mirror held to the face of mankind. In this warning he unveils the hidden weakness of the human spirit: our tendency to be deceived by our own cleverness, to confuse the appearance of wisdom with wisdom itself. For it is easy to cloak ignorance in shining phrases, and to call mystery a revelation; yet to do so is folly, and this folly lives in every one of us.

The origin of these words lies in Valéry’s life as both poet and thinker. He was a man who walked in two worlds: the world of imagination, filled with metaphor, and the world of reason, demanding proof. He knew the power of words to dazzle, to intoxicate, to inspire belief even when their meaning was unclear. And so he cautioned that we must not mistake a torrent of verbiage for truth, nor confuse the delight of a paradox with the weight of a true discovery. For truth is tested not by beauty of words, but by its fidelity to reality.

History gives us sharp examples of this error. Consider the so-called “scientific” theories of the nineteenth century that proclaimed racial hierarchies, clothed in charts, equations, and pompous language. They were but verbiage, adorned with the semblance of proof, yet empty of truth. Nations believed them, and from them arose segregation, oppression, and genocide. This was the folly Valéry spoke of: when men mistake metaphor for science and eloquence for evidence, the consequences are not harmless—they are grave.

Yet there are also gentler examples, found even in the lives of scholars and dreamers. Many a philosopher has mistaken a paradox for a profound revelation, declaring that because a thought is strange, it must be true. Others have adored the music of their own words, believing themselves oracles when in fact they were but men entranced by their own echoes. Valéry saw this tendency as natural, even inborn: our minds crave patterns, surprises, and meanings, and so we are easily deceived by what pleases the ear or shocks the mind.

But Valéry does not speak merely to condemn; he speaks to awaken. His words remind us that humility is the first step to wisdom. To recognize the difference between discovery and paradox, between proof and metaphor, between truth and eloquence, requires discipline and self-awareness. It requires that we test our insights against the world, and not merely against our own satisfaction. Only by doing so can we separate the gold of knowledge from the glitter of illusion.

The ancients knew this danger as well. Socrates declared that wisdom begins with knowing one’s ignorance. Laozi taught that true words are not always beautiful, and beautiful words are not always true. Valéry’s warning is of the same kind: do not enthrone yourself as an oracle, lest you become blind to truth. For the true seeker is not intoxicated by his own voice, but listens, tests, and doubts until clarity emerges.

So, O listener, take this lesson to heart: beware the folly that is inborn within you. When you encounter a paradox, ask if it is truly a discovery. When you delight in a metaphor, remember that it is not proof. When words flow like a torrent, ask if they spring from truth or from vanity. And above all, do not mistake yourself for an oracle. Be humble, be vigilant, and let reality itself be your teacher. For in this way, you may avoid the folly of illusion and walk instead in the light of wisdom.