Wie kommt es, dass aus­ge­rech­net die große Abschluss­rede an der Uni­ver­si­tät die bei­nah ein­zige ame­ri­ka­ni­sche Tra­di­tion ist, die es noch nicht nach Deutsch­land geschafft hat? Würde uns das Per­so­nal dafür feh­len? Die Kul­tur des Reden­hal­tens? Die Kunst, die heikle Mischung aus Pathos und Komik, aus All­ge­mein­plät­zen und Sub­jek­ti­vi­tät hinzubekommen?

Jeden­falls hat der Schrift­stel­ler Neil Gai­man dem gro­ßen Genre der com­mence­ment speech einen wei­te­ren Höhe­punkt hin­zu­ge­fügt. Er sprach am 17. Mai an der Uni­ver­sity of the Arts in Phil­adel­phia, und ich hatte am Ende der zwan­zig Minu­ten wie­der ein­mal einen Kloß im Hals.

And I deci­ded that I’d do my best in the future not to write books just for the money. If you didn’t get the money then you didn’t have anything. And if I did work I was proud of, and I didn’t get the money, at least I’d have the work.

But people keep working, in a free­lance world — and more and more of today’s world is free­lance — because the work is good and because they’re easy to get along with and because they deli­ver the work on time.

And you don’t even need all three. Two out of three is fine.

People will tole­rate how unplea­sant you are if your work is good and you deli­ver it on time.

People will for­give the laten­ess of your work if it’s good and they like you.

And you don’t have to be as good as ever­yone else if you’re on time and it’s always a plea­sure to hear from you.

So be wise, because the world needs more wis­dom. And if you can­not be wise, pre­tend to be someone who is wise and then just behave like they would.

And now go, and make inte­res­ting mis­ta­kes, make ama­zing mis­ta­kes, make glo­rious and fan­tas­tic mistakes.

Break rules. Leave the world more inte­res­ting for your being here.

Make good art.