Our quarrel with efficiency is not that it gets things done, but that it is a thief of time when it leaves us no leisure to enjoy ourselves, and that it strains our nerves when we try to get things done perfectly. In building bridges, American engineers calculate so finely and exactly as to make the two ends come together within one-tenth of an inch. But when two Chinese begin to dig a tunnel from both sides of a mountain both come out on the other side. --The Chinese’s firm belief is that it doesn’t matter so long as a tunnel is dug through, and if we have two instead of one, why, we have a double track to boot. The pace of modern industrial life forbids this kind of glorious and magnificent idling. But, worse than that, it imposes upon us a different conception of time as measured by the clock and eventually turns the human being into a clock himself. (This sort of thing is bound to come to China, as is evident, for instance, in the case of a factory of twenty thousand worker. The luxurious prospect of twenty thousand workers coming in at their own sweet pleasure at all hours is, of course, somewhat terrifying.)Nevertheless, such efficiency is what makes life so hard and full of excitement. A man who has to be punctually at a certain place at five o’clock has the whole afternoon from one to five ruined for him already. Every American adult is arranging his time on the pattern of the schoolboy - three o’clock for this, five o’clock for that, six-thirty for change of dress, six-fifty for entering the taxi, and seven o’clock for arriving at the destination. It just makes life not worth living.