... There Is No Such Thing As

Scientific Reason, With Its Strict Conscience, Its Lack Of Prejudice, And Its Determination To Question Every Result Again The Moment It Might Lead To The Least Intellectual Advantage, Does In An Area Of Secondary Interest What We Ought To Be Doing With The Basic Questions Of Life.

It Was The Tenderness Mingled With Melancholy Which We Bring To A Time That Belongs Irrevocably To The Past, When A Pale, Delicate Shadow Rises From It Bearing The Lilies Of The Dead, And In It We Find A Forgotten Likeness To Ourselves. And That Faint, Wistful Shadow, That Pale Scent, Seemed To Vanish Away Into A Wide, Full, Warm Stream - The Life That Now Lay Open Before Him.

True' And 'false' Are The Evasions Of People Who Never Want To Arrive At A Decision. Truth Is Something Without End.

An Impractical Man--which He Not Only Seems To Be, But Really Is--will Always Be Unreliable And Unpredictable In His Dealings With Others. He Will Engage In Actions That Mean Something Else To Him Than To Others, But He Is At Peace With Himself About Everything As Long As He Can Make It All Come Together In A Fine Idea.

One Must Conform To The Baseness Of An Age Or Become Neurotic.