Now that you have compiled this volume and titled it “All Enters One,” you have asked me to write a preface for it. I recall Zhuangzi’s words: “Our lives are limited, but knowledge is limitless.” In our time, the avenues of learning are continually expanding, culture is advancing, and human affairs are becoming ever more complex—so much so that some aspects seem impossible to fully fathom. Yet as culture progresses, human wisdom likewise advances; therefore, there remains a proper way to pursue and unravel these matters. However, even when we undertake such inquiry, success may or may not attend us, depending on whether we accumulate steadily or not.  Consider a hundred-foot tower: it begins with a single stone, then two, then three or four, until finally it reaches ten thousand. Learning follows a similar pattern. Today we note one fact; tomorrow we grasp one principle. Over time, this gradual accumulation gives rise to scholarship. Great heights are founded upon the humblest beginnings, and vast undertakings originate in small beginnings—everything depends on one’s own earnest pursuit. Once a certain degree of accumulation has been achieved, distinctions still arise between the large and the small, the partial and the complete: one may gather materials from a thousand mountains to construct a single tower, or synthesize the teachings of a hundred schools to form an entire system of thought. By selecting the finest elements and applying them broadly, one establishes deep roots and yields abundant fruit. This approach stands in stark contrast to those who cling rigidly to the pronouncements of a single master, content merely to bask in self-satisfaction.  Nevertheless, though a tower grows tall through accumulation, and a body of learning becomes extensive through piling up knowledge, this does not necessarily signify perfection. A tower that lacks solidity, or a body of learning that lacks precision, is no different from having no tower or no learning at all. The question of how to achieve precision in one’s studies hinges entirely on the method of accumulation. The key lies in systematic organization. The chief defect of traditional Chinese scholarship has long been its chaotic and unstructured nature: classification was crudely divided into the Classics, History, Philosophical Works, and Collected Writings, with politics and religion fused together and metaphysical speculation indistinguishable from practical exposition. It is precisely because of this lack of order that, despite millennia of effort, little genuine progress was made.  In contrast, Western scholarship has long recognized the need for clear distinctions within any given field of study. There are what are called “pure” disciplines, “applied” disciplines, “explanatory” disciplines, and “normative” disciplines; by delineating the various domains of knowledge, they establish distinct academic disciplines. Within each discipline, further subdivisions are made—into fields, branches, outlines, genera, and species—arranged with an orderly precision reminiscent of a cascading waterfall suspended from a precipice. If one aspires to true learning today, yet fails to follow this systematic approach, one cannot hope to attain any real depth or rigor. Even so, neither breadth nor precision can be achieved overnight; sustained perseverance is essential. As the saying goes, “A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.” Those who set out on a thousand-mile journey but turn back at the very threshold, though diligent, will never reach their destination—the crucial difference lies in whether one persists or desists.  In compiling this volume, did you truly harbor such intentions, seeking to exert your utmost effort to realize them? There can be no doubt that this book is intended as a foundation for future accumulation. It gathers together a wide array of materials, broadening one’s intellectual horizons—this is beyond question. However, if the entries indiscriminately mix large and small, important and trivial, while pleasing to the eye, they may not necessarily resonate with the heart. Therefore, it would be advisable to impose some order upon them, to extract the precious gems and discard the dross. Moreover, one must maintain this endeavor over a prolonged period, without abandoning it midway. Should these conditions be met, then indeed this work will serve as the foundation for a towering edifice—and in that case, what cause could I possibly have for doubt?

Summer, Year 6 of the Republic   Printed from the manuscript by Comrade Mao Zedong

Notes

[1] This essay is the preface written by Mao Zedong for Xiao Zisheng’s self-compiled reading notes entitled “All Enters One.” The title and punctuation were added by the editors of this book.

[2] In the original text, this character is damaged; the left radical reads “stone,” suggesting it might be the character “bian.”