Does the candy association accept this member mint?
四分五裂
shi.bun.go.retsu
Literally: four – part – five – split
Alternately: Disintegration. Things coming apart. Order breaking down and chaos taking over.
Notes: The 分 may also be pronounced bu, although this is much less common. This compound comes to us from the Records of the Grand Historian (史記), in the chapter on Zhang Yi (張儀).
If you know, you know.
But a rabbit-hole is just as dangerous.
学びて思わざれば則ち罔し
(Manabite omowazareba sunawachi kurashi;
“Study without consideration is nothing.”)
Definition:
No matter how much you study, if you don’t also think about the content of what you’re learning, you can’t actually reach the truth. Unexamined input is almost useless.
Breakdown:
We begin with the verb 学ぶ (manabu), “to study,” in conjunctive form, which allows it to work with another verb. Accordingly, it’s followed by 思う (omou), “to think,” in imperfective form. This in turn takes the negative suffix ざり (zari) in perfective form, which allows it to take the conditional suffix ば (ba), “when.” The result of the conditional is 則ち (sunawachi), in this case “and then,” and then 罔し (kurashi). This last is not common Japanese these days – in fact, 罔 is a rare character often used to mean “net,” but which can also mean – and apparently originally meant in Chinese – “deceive” or “not.” Anyway, I’m not 100% certain about why there’s that shi on the end. My guess is that it’s an adjective in sentence-final form, equivalent in both form and function to the more prosaic 無し (nashi).
Notes:
This comes to us from Confucius’ Analects (論語, in Japanese Rongo), in the section on governance (為政). It may be followed by counterpoint 思いて学ばざれば則ち殆し (omoite manabazareba sunawachi ayaushi), “Thinking without studying is dangerous” – i.e. simply trying to reason things through on your own without a solid educational background leads to a complacency that leaves you open to all sorts of uncaught errors.
Example sentence:
「先生、教科書をちゃんと読んでもう理解したはずなのに、どうしてエッセイも書かないといけないのですか？」 「考えさせるためだよ。学びて思わざれば則ち罔しというからね」
(“Sensei, kyoukasho wo chanto yonde mou rikai shita hazu na no ni, doushite essei mo kakanai to ikenai no desu ka?” “Kangaesaseru tame da yo. Manabite omowazareba sunawachi kurashi to iu kara ne.”)
[“Teacher, why do I have to write an essay even though I already read and understood the textbook?” “It’s to make you think more about it. They say that learning without thinking comes to naught, after all.”]
寿司一貫 is the correct counter!
終始一貫
shuu.shi.i-.kkan
Literally: end – begin – one – pierce
Alternately: Unchanging. Consistent. Without any variation, straight through from beginning to end, especially in one’s way of doing things.
Notes: This phrase comes to us from the Book of Han, in the chapter on Wang Mang (王莽, in Japanese Oumou).
Over the years people have invented several erroneous ways to write the ikkan part, including 一環 or 一巻. Don’t do that.
Piercing all the way through.
Still faster than truffula trees, though.
桃栗三年柿八年
(Momokuri sannen kaki hachinen;
“Peach and chestnut, three years; persimmons, eight years.”)
Definition:
As Piet Hein said, Things Take Time. The peach and chestnut trees must grow for three years from when they sprout before they begin bearing fruit, and the persimmon tree takes eight years. So do all plans and tasks and special investigations require time before coming to fruition; there is no magic bullet for instant success.
Breakdown:
All kanji! No grammar! We begin with 桃 (momo), “peach (tree),” and 栗 (kuri), “chestnut (tree),” juxtaposed to show that they’re in the same category, followed by the number-noun combination 三年 (sannen), “three years.” Next up is the noun 柿 (kaki), “persimmon (tree),” coupled with number-noun 八年 (hachinen), “eight years.”
Notes:
This pithy saying is part of a long tradition of kotowaza encouraging patient, steady effort. Some variants also claim that biwa fruit (a.k.a. loquats)and yuzu (a citrus) take nine years, etc.
This saying is the も entry of the Osaka iroha karuta set, and comes to us from an Edo-era essay called the 三養雑記 (San’you zakki).
Example sentence:
「次の発表が待ち遠しいかもしれませんが、桃栗三年柿八年というので、あとしばらく我慢をお願いします」
(“Tsugi no happyou ga machidooshii kamoshiremasen ga, momokuri sannen kaki hachinen to iu no de, ato shibaraku gama wo onegai shimasu.”)
[“You’re likely waiting on the edge of your seats for the next announcements. But as they say, ‘good things come to those who wait,’ so please bear with us for a while longer.”]
But is it still paranoia if you’re guilty of crimes?
被害妄想
hi.gai.mou.sou
Literally: incur – harm – delusion – thought
Alternately: A persecution complex. Paranoia. A deluded belief that one is being unfairly singled out, specifically targeted, or harmed even though the reality is far more benign or impartial.
Notes: This is another compound comprising two two-character compound words: higai is “damage,” and mousou is “delusion.”
The irrational feeling that somewhere, somehow, your grandparents are disappointed in you.
If you go to the A Book of Creatures website, you can find dozens or hundreds of monsters and crypids described in detail, and some of the details just make you itch to run a fantasy RPG specifically so you can put them in there. A while back, a very brief post presented “Another alpine dragon… What really sells it is the melodramatic look of dismay on the guy. That or he’s yodeling to it.” [emphasis mine]
And for some reason that one-off comedic aside is what fired up my imagination the most. I want a campaign with a fearsome monster – a tatzelwurm guarding a mountain pass, for example – that will leave you untouched if only you sing to it the whole time you’re within earshot. Imagine sticking that on the map, letting the PCs encounter it and get routed like Monty Python’s grail knights versus the beast of Caerbannog, and then have their minds blown when they realize that local farmers, who of course know the wurm’s secret, walk right by it every day without a care.
同床異夢
dou.shou.i.mu
Literally: same – bed – different – dream
Alternately: Even though two people share some external thing in common – where they live, where they work, their situation, etc. – they have different goals, priorities, or ways of seeing the world.
Notes: This phrase comes to us from the writings of 12th-century Confucian scholar Chen Liang.
I guess it’s also… the title of an obscure TRPG (Tactical Role-Playing Game)?
後は野となれ山となれ
(Ato wa no to nare yama to nare;
“After this, come field, come mountain.”)
Definition:
Not caring about what comes next as long as the current problem or issue can be finished up or taken care of. By extension, not caring about what happens to anybody else as long as you can get what you want. “After me, the deluge.” The image is of taking care of a piece of land, but not caring what happens to it afterwards – even if it reverts to a wild field or somehow turns into a mountain!
Breakdown:
We begin with the noun 後 (ato), “after,” marked as the topic of discussion by the particle は (wa). Next we have a repeated verb phrase with different nouns. The verb is なる (naru), “to become.” In each case, the verb relates to the preceding noun through the particle と (to), which in this case marks the endpoint of a change. The first potential becoming is 野 (no), “field,” and the second is 山 (yama), “mountain.”
The grammar of the nares isn’t 100% clear, but I suspect that the verb is in perfective form, which allows it to take the (elided but implied) suffix ば (ba), “(even) if.”
Notes:
This saying apparently comes to us from 冥土の飛脚 (Meido no hikyaku), The Courier for Hell, an early 18th-century joururi love-suicide play by Chikamatsu Monzaemon. And yet its relevance to current events is almost too obvious.
This kotowaza is specifically noted as being antonymous to 立つ鳥跡を濁さず.
Example sentence:
「後は野となれ山となれとばかりに税収入をわざと減らしてやがって、あいつ等マジで何考えてるんだろう」 「それより、ただ一切も考えていないと言って良いんじゃない？」
(“Ato wa no to nare yama to nare to bakari ni zeishuunyuu wo waza to herashite yagatte, aitsura maji de nani kangaeteru ndarou.” “Sore yori, tada issai mo kangaeteinai to itte iin ja nai?”)
[“Those idiots are slashing tax revenues on purpose as if they don’t care what comes next. What on earth are they thinking?” “Isn’t it just that they’re not thinking at all?”]
疑心暗鬼
gi.shin.an.ki
Literally: doubt – heart – dark – ghost
Alternately: Once you allow suspicion or fear into your heart, everything will start to seem menacing. Even though nothing is actually there, a doubting heart fills the darkness with monsters.
Notes: Normally I’d deal with 鬼 by leaving it as oni, but here my sources specify that the 鬼 character refers to the malevolent spirits of the dead – and the fact that we the living can work ourselves up into a state of terror over them even though they don’t really exist.
A more kotowazaesque version adds a particle and verb: 疑心暗鬼を生ず (gishin anki wo shouzu), i.e. the doubting heart “gives birth to” ghosts in the darkness.
This phrase comes to us from the Liezi (列子, in Japanese Resshi), which we’ve seen before.
Also the name of a weird trippy Vocaloid song.
We hope that you enjoy your stay.
landofnudotcom 
A warning
Or a simple observation of facts on the ground?
無理が通れば道理引っ込む
(Muri ga tooreba douri hikkomu;
“When unreason pushes through, reason withdraws”)
Definition:
In a society where irrational force carries the day, reasonable thinking breaks down – and justice does as well. If people learn that they can get their way by being unreasonable, then people stop doing what is right. By extension, when people don’t listen no matter how logically you speak, it’s safer to keep your head down. (Disclaimer: this safety may depend on being a wealthy aristocrat with enough resources to isolate oneself from society at large; your results may vary.)
Breakdown:
We begin with the noun 無理 (muri), “unreason,” “force,” “excess,” etc. It’s marked as the subject by the particle が (ga), and the verb it performs is 通る (tooru), in conditional form. The result of this condition is the noun 道理 (douri), “reason,” “truth,” “what is right,” performing the verb 引っ込む (hikkomu), “to draw back.”
Notes:
Some versions of this saying include が after 道理 instead of eliding it. Replacing the first が with に (ni), however, is an error; 無理に通る is “to pass through [somewhere] by force.”
This kotowaza apparently comes to us from the Book of Han (漢書), in the section on Liu Xiang (劉向). It’s included as the む entry in the Edo iroha karuta set.
Example sentence:
「無理が通れば道理引っ込むで、町の中の運転手は皆少しずつ自分勝手になり、交通事故の件数が増えつつある」
(“Muri ga tooreba douri hikkomu de, machi no naka no untenshu wa minna sukoshi zutsu jibungatte ni nari, koutsuu jiko no kensuu ga fue tsutsu aru.”)
[“As reason withdraws when force prevails, so did the town’s drivers become increasingly self-centered, and the frequency of traffic accidents is on the rise.”]