Add a comma to the present clause, and, of a sudden, the mind is, quite literally, given pause to think; take it out if you wish

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问题 Add a comma to the present clause, and, of a sudden, the mind is, quite literally, given pause to think; take it out if you wish or forget it and the mind is deprived of a resting place. Yet still the comma gets no respect. It seems just a slip of a thing, a pedant’s tick, a blip on the edge of our consciousness, a kind of printer’s smudge almost. Small, we claim, is beautiful. Yet what is so often used, and so rarely called, as the comma—unless it be breath itself?
Punctuation becomes the signature of cultures. The hot-blooded Spaniard seems to be revealed in the passion and urgency of his doubled exclamation points and question marks, while the impassive Chinese traditionally added to his so-called inscrutability by omitting directions from his ideograms.
Punctuation is something more than a culture’s birthmark; it scores the music in our minds, gets our thoughts moving to the rhythm of our hearts. Punctuation is the notation in the sheet music of our words, telling us when to rest, or when to raise our voices; it acknowledges that the meaning of our discourse, as of any symphonic composition, lies not only in the units but in the pauses, the pacing and the phrasing.
Sometimes our markings may be simply a matter of aesthetics. Popping in a comma can be like slipping on the necklace that gives an outfit quiet elegance, or like catching the sound of running water that complements as it completes the silence of a Chinese landscape.
Thus a comma gives us breath and heft and depth. A world that has only periods is a world without inflections. It is a world without shade. It is a music without sharps and flats. It is a martial music. It has a jackboot rhythm. Words cannot bend and curve. A comma, by comparison, catches the gentle drift of the mind in thought, turning in on itself and back on itself, reversing, redoubling and returning along the course of its own sweet river music.

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答案 给现在这句加上逗号,脑子里真会,突然,停下来想想;若随意去掉,或忘了它,就剥夺了脑子休息的空间。尽管如此,逗号仍然不受人尊重。它似乎只是一个小撇,书呆子手下的一个小点儿,是我们意识边缘上的一个记号,甚至排字工人沾上的一个污点。我们好说以小为美。然而,还有什么东西是像逗号那样频频使用而又那样默默无闻的呢?——不就是呼吸吗? 标点成了不同文化的标志。西班牙人天性好激动,打感叹号打问号都用双重的,情真意切,如见其人;中国人则不好动声色,表意字的文言自古就不注标点,所谓胸有城府,益见其深。 标点又不仅是某一种文化的胎记;它记下我们心中的乐曲,指引我们的思想与我们的心声合拍。标点是我们作词的歌篇上的乐谱,它告诉我们何时休止,何时提高嗓门;它表明,我们说话着文,犹如谱写交响乐曲,情意所至,不仅见于整体段落,也见于起落有间、快慢有节以及长短有致。 有时我们的标点符号也许只是个审美的问题。插进一个逗号,犹如给一套服装悄然配上项链,使之显得娴静优雅,又如在中国园林的一片幽静之外还听到潺潺流水声,使园景更加充实。 可见逗号给我们增加了广度、分量和深度。只有句点的世界是个千篇一律的世界,是个没有差别的世界。它的乐曲不分升调降调,是一首军乐曲,是长筒靴的节奏。文字不能弯曲。相形之下,逗号却能捕捉头脑里思路的涓涓细流,任它沿着自己娓娓动听的河上乐曲的航线,自行蜿蜒曲折,倒流,重叠。

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