而他,是一個(gè)目前依舊影響著世界的人,一個(gè)擁有獨(dú)一無(wú)二的智商的人。
He wasn't holding forth at academic conferences. He wasn't leading a graduate seminar at some prestigious university.
但他從來(lái)沒(méi)有在一所名校主持過(guò)學(xué)術(shù)研討會(huì)。
He was living in a slightly tumbledown horse farm in northern Missouri, sitting on the back porch in jeans and a cutoff T-shirt.
他現(xiàn)在生活在密蘇里州北部一個(gè)隨時(shí)可能倒塌的簡(jiǎn)陋養(yǎng)馬農(nóng)場(chǎng),他喜歡穿著牛仔褲、短T恤靠在門(mén)廊后面坐著。
He knew how it looked: it was the great paradox of Chris Langan's genius.
他知道自己看起來(lái)是一副什么模樣:這與天才克里斯·蘭根的形象格格不入。
"I have not pursued mainstream publishers as hard as I should have," he conceded.
“我從來(lái)不想費(fèi)勁周折地跟主流出版商糾纏,”他承認(rèn),
"Going around, querying publishers, trying to find an agent. I haven't done it, and I'm not interested in doing it."
“不斷尋找、咨詢出版商,希望能找到一個(gè)代理。這種事情就需要這樣做。但我沒(méi)有,我對(duì)這些事情毫無(wú)興趣。”
It was an admission of defeat.
他不得不承認(rèn)自己的失敗。
Every experience he had had outside of his own mind had ended in frustration.
他每一次思考出來(lái)的結(jié)論最終都遭遇挫折。
He knew he needed to do a better job of navigating the world, but he didn't know how.
他知道自己應(yīng)該更好地和社會(huì)溝通,但是他不知道該怎樣做。
He couldn't even talked to his calculus teacher, for goodness' sake.
我的天,他甚至還不知道該怎樣和自己的微積分老師交談。
These were things that others, with lesser minds, could master easily.
智慧是一碼事,精通世故又是一碼事,較低的智力卻可能精通世故。
But that's because those others had had help along the way, and Chris Langan never had.
而成就事情少不了智商之外的其它能力,但克里斯·蘭根缺少這方面的能力。
It wasn't an excuse. It was a fact.
這不是借口,這是事實(shí)。
He'd had to make his way alone, and no one, not rock stars, not professional athletes, not software billionaires, and not even geniuses, ever makes it alone.
他注定是一個(gè)人孤獨(dú)行走,沒(méi)有人愿意這樣孤獨(dú)地走下去——無(wú)論是搖滾歌星、職業(yè)運(yùn)動(dòng)員、軟件領(lǐng)域的億萬(wàn)富翁,還是其他天才。