AN 1.1 - AN 1.20: If Mark Twain heard and shared his recollection of these discourses from the Buddha
7.5 min. audio files here:
12 seconds of video at end of article. (because video won't make as much sense until you hear or read the Twain similes he comes up with).
Text Translation was based on frank pali to English, then embellished by AI imitating Mark Twain,
but the technical Dhamma points were carefully edited by frankk.
Audio recording is also AI generated, amazingly human sounding and nuanced.
I wonder how many humans you know who could read this edition better than the AI rendition.
as Mark Twain might have scribbled it
Here is the full, un-condensed Gospel as Mark Twain might have scribbled it down in his notebook.
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### I. The Optical Delusion (AN 1.1 & 1.6)
"Now, look here," the Buddha said, leaning against a teak tree. "I’ve traveled some, and I’ve seen a fair amount of scenery—majestic peaks, rolling rivers, and sunsets that would make a poet weep—but I’ve yet to come across a single solitary sight that can hog-tie a man’s mind and lead it around by the nose quite like the **sight of a woman**. A man can look at a mountain and keep his wits, but you put the vision of a lady in front of him, and his common sense just packs its trunk and catches the first train out of town.
And don’t you ladies think you’re perched on any higher moral ground. You show a woman the **sight of a fine-looking gentleman**, and her focus goes drifting off into the weeds just the same. It’s a universal see-saw, and everyone’s bobbing up and down on it."
### II. The Siren’s Echo (AN 1.2 & 1.7)
"And it ain’t just the looking," he continued, warming up. "I don’t know a sound in all of nature—not the warble of a meadowlark, nor the silver chiming of a Sunday bell—that can take possession of a man’s mental furniture like the **sound of a woman’s voice**. It gets into the gears of his thinking and turns 'em backward.
Likewise, you let a woman hear the **baritone rumble of a man**, and she’ll forget she was in the middle of a perfectly good prayer. That sound just occupies the premises and refuses to pay rent."
### III. The Olfactory Ambush (AN 1.3 & 1.8)
"Then there’s the matter of the nose. A man might think he’s a philosopher, but one whiff of a **woman’s scent**—maybe it’s jasmine, maybe it’s just the way the breeze caught her hair—and his philosophy turns into a pile of damp sawdust. It’s a scent that can track a man down in the dark and lead him into a thicket of distractions.
And for the womenfolk, the **scent of a man** does the same trick. It’s a biological swindle, plain and simple, and it works every time."
### IV. The Flavor of Folly (AN 1.4 & 1.9)
"Even the tongue is in on the conspiracy. I’ve tasted honey from the hive and peaches from the orchard, but there isn’t a flavor on God’s green earth that can occupy a man’s mind like the **taste of a woman**. It’s a sweetness that lingers long after the meal is done, making a man forget his breakfast, his lunch, and his duty.
And you can bet your bottom dollar that for a woman, the **taste of a man** is the only spice that can turn her mind away from the path of peace and toward a heap of trouble."
### V. The Tactile Trap (AN 1.5 & 1.10)
"Finally, there’s the **touch**. A man can lean against a stone wall or feel the velvet of a rosepetal and stay perfectly respectable. But you let him feel the touch of a woman, and his composure evaporates like a dewdrop on a hot griddle. It’s a physical magnetism that could pull a compass needle off north.
And it works the same for the ladies—the **touch of a man** is a tactile lightning bolt that leaves their mind wandering in a daze for a week of Sundays."
---
### VI. The Lure of the 'Pretty Side' (AN 1.11 & 1.16)
"Now, let’s talk about how to get a man’s **sensual desires** all lathered up," the Buddha said, his eyes twinkling. "I don’t know a quicker way than for him to go staring at the 'pretty side' of things—what we call the **Sign of Beauty**. If you spend your time mooning over the shiny paint job on a buggy without noticing the axles are rotted, you’re in for a crash.
But," he added, "if you want to cure that itch, try ** setting your mind on tracking the source of beauty and ugliness**. Look for the cause of the 'Sign of Ugliness.' It’s like looking at a fancy cake until you realize it’s mostly lard and sugar—it takes the edge off your appetite and leaves you a free man again."
### VII. The Sore Tooth of Malice (AN 1.12 & 1.17)
"Then there’s **ill will**. I see men who foster a grudge like it’s a prize-winning pig. They keep poking at the **Sign of Irritation**—thinking about every slight and every snub—until their heart is as sour as a green persimmon.
The best way to stop that rot is the **heart’s release through friendly kindness**. It’s the best tonic that’ll wash the grit out of your gears. When you look for and understand the source of the sign of irritation and friendliness, that old malice just shrivels up and dies for lack of attention."
### VIII. The Slumber of the Soul (AN 1.13 & 1.18)
"And don't get me started on **sloth**. You take a man who’s bored, who’s just finished a three-course dinner, and who’s got the mental energy of a damp log—well, he’s going to be yawning and stretching until his brains go to sleep entirely. If the mind is sluggish, the man is as good as a statue, only less useful.
The remedy? A little **'get-up-and-go.'** Put some initiative and vigor into your spirit. A rolling stone gathers no moss, and a busy monk gathers no cobwebs in his head. Persistence is the only alarm clock that works for the figurative soul."
### IX. The Fidgety Mind (AN 1.14 & 1.19)
"Next, we have **restlessness and remorse**. That’s when a man’s mind is like a cat on a hot tin roof—he can’t sit still, and he can’t stop fretting over what he did or didn't do yesterday. It’s an **unsettled mind**, and it’ll wear a man out faster than a day’s plowing.
The cure is **stillness**. When the heart finds its center and stops its pacing, restlessness vanishes. You’ve got to find that inner peace, or you’ll be twitching all the way to the grave."
### X. The Fog of Doubt (AN 1.15 & 1.20)
"Finally, there’s **Doubt**. It’s like a thick river fog that makes a man lose his way on his own front porch. It comes from a mind that refuses to **trace the source of dharmas**—a mind that won't look a fact in the eye and shake hands with it.
But when a man starts using his head—applying a mind that traces the source of things** to the way things truly are—the fog lifts. Doubt can’t survive the morning sun of a clear-thinking mind. Once you see the truth of the matter, you stop wondering if the bridge will hold—you just walk across it."
---
**That’s the whole kit and caboodle!
=================================================================
actual version recorded, with markup and references omitted:
Here is the full, un-condensed Gospel as Mark Twain might have scribbled it down in his notebook.
The Optical Delusion
"Now, look here," the Buddha said, leaning against a teak tree. "I've traveled some, and I've seen a fair amount of scenery—majestic peaks, rolling rivers, and sunsets that would make a poet weep—but I've yet to come across a single solitary sight that can hog-tie a man's mind and lead it around by the nose quite like the sight of a woman. A man can look at a mountain and keep his wits, but you put the vision of a lady in front of him, and his common sense just packs its trunk and catches the first train out of town.
And don't you ladies think you're perched on any higher moral ground. You show a woman the sight of a fine-looking gentleman, and her focus goes drifting off into the weeds just the same. It's a universal see-saw, and everyone's bobbing up and down on it."
The Siren's Echo
"And it ain't just the looking," he continued, warming up. "I don't know a sound in all of nature—not the warble of a meadowlark, nor the silver chiming of a Sunday bell—that can take possession of a man's mental furniture like the sound of a woman's voice. It gets into the gears of his thinking and turns 'em backward.
Likewise, you let a woman hear the baritone rumble of a man, and she'll forget she was in the middle of a perfectly good prayer. That sound just occupies the premises and refuses to pay rent."
The Olfactory Ambush
"Then there's the matter of the nose. A man might think he's a philosopher, but one whiff of a woman's scent—maybe it's jasmine, maybe it's just the way the breeze caught her hair—and his philosophy turns into a pile of damp sawdust. It's a scent that can track a man down in the dark and lead him into a thicket of distractions.
And for the womenfolk, the scent of a man does the same trick. It's a biological swindle, plain and simple, and it works every time."
The Flavor of Folly
"Even the tongue is in on the conspiracy. I've tasted honey from the hive and peaches from the orchard, but there isn't a flavor on God's green earth that can occupy a man's mind like the taste of a woman. It's a sweetness that lingers long after the meal is done, making a man forget his breakfast, his lunch, and his duty.
And you can bet your bottom dollar that for a woman, the taste of a man is the only spice that can turn her mind away from the path of peace and toward a heap of trouble."
The Tactile Trap
"Finally, there's the touch. A man can lean against a stone wall or feel the velvet of a rose petal and stay perfectly respectable. But you let him feel the touch of a woman, and his composure evaporates like a dewdrop on a hot griddle. It's a physical magnetism that could pull a compass needle off north.
And it works the same for the ladies—the touch of a man is a tactile lightning bolt that leaves their mind wandering in a daze for a week of Sundays."
The Lure of the 'Pretty Side'
"Now, let's talk about how to get a man's sensual desires all lathered up," the Buddha said, his eyes twinkling. "I don't know a quicker way than for him to go staring at the 'pretty side' of things—what we call the Sign of Beauty. If you spend your time mooning over the shiny paint job on a buggy without noticing the axles are rotted, you're in for a crash.
But," he added, "if you want to cure that itch, try setting your mind on tracking the source of beauty and ugliness. Look for the cause of the 'Sign of Ugliness.' It's like looking at a fancy cake until you realize it's mostly lard and sugar—it takes the edge off your appetite and leaves you a free man again."
The Sore Tooth of Malice
"Then there's ill will. I see men who foster a grudge like it's a prize-winning pig. They keep poking at the Sign of Irritation—thinking about every slight and every snub—until their heart is as sour as a green persimmon.
The best way to stop that rot is the heart's release through friendly kindness. It's the best tonic that'll wash the grit out of your gears. When you look for and understand the source of the sign of irritation and friendliness, that old malice just shrivels up and dies for lack of attention."
The Slumber of the Soul
"And don't get me started on sloth. You take a man who's bored, who's just finished a three-course dinner, and who's got the mental energy of a damp log—well, he's going to be yawning and stretching until his brains go to sleep entirely. If the mind is sluggish, the man is as good as a statue, only less useful.
The remedy? A little 'get-up-and-go.' Put some initiative and vigor into your spirit. A rolling stone gathers no moss, and a busy monk gathers no cobwebs in his head. Persistence is the only alarm clock that works for the figurative soul."
The Fidgety Mind
"Next, we have restlessness and remorse. That's when a man's mind is like a cat on a hot tin roof—he can't sit still, and he can't stop fretting over what he did or didn't do yesterday. It's an unsettled mind, and it'll wear a man out faster than a day's plowing.
The cure is stillness. When the heart finds its center and stops its pacing, restlessness vanishes. You've got to find that inner peace, or you'll be twitching all the way to the grave."
The Fog of Doubt
"Finally, there's Doubt. It's like a thick river fog that makes a man lose his way on his own front porch. It comes from a mind that refuses to trace the source of dharmas—a mind that won't look a fact in the eye and shake hands with it.
But when a man starts using his head—applying a mind that traces the source of things to the way things truly are—the fog lifts. Doubt can't survive the morning sun of a clear-thinking mind. Once you see the truth of the matter, you stop wondering if the bridge will hold—you just walk across it."
That's the whole kit and caboodle!
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