Logic Chases Truth Up The Tree Of

Unlike Descartes, We Own And Use Our Beliefs Of The Moment, Even In The Midst Of Philosophizing, Until By What Is Vaguely Called Scientific Method We Change Them Here And There For The Better. Within Our Own Total Evolving Doctrine, We Can Judge Truth As Earnestly And Absolutely As Can Be, Subject To Correction, But That Goes Without Saying.

Language Is Conceived In Sin And Science Is Its Redemption.

The Mastery Of One's Phonemes May Be Compared To The Violinist's Mastery Of Fingering. The Violin String Lends Itself To A Continuous Gradation Of Tones, But The Musician Learns The Discrete Intervals At Which To Stop The String In Order To Play The Conventional Notes. We Sound Our Phonemes Like Poor Violinists, Approximating Each Time To A Fancied Norm, And We Receive Our Neighbor's Renderings Indulgently, Mentally Rectifying The More Glaring Inaccuracies.

The Familiar Material Objects May Not Be All That Is Real, But They Are Admirable Examples.

One Man's Observation Is Another Man's Closed Book Or Flight Of Fancy.