."

"Ever not quite!"--this seems to wring the very last panting word out
of rationalistic philosophy's mouth. It is fit to be pluralism's
heraldic device. There is no complete generalization, no total point
of view, no all-pervasive unity, but everywhere some residual
resistance to verbalization, formulation, and discursification, some
genius of reality that escapes from the pressure of the logical finger,
that says "hands off," and claims its privacy, and means to be left to
its own life. In every moment of immediate experience is somewhat
absolutely original and novel. "We are the first that ever burst into
this silent sea." Philosophy must pass from words, that reproduce but
ancient elements, to life itself, that gives the integrally new. The
"inexplicable," the "mystery," as what the intellect, with its claim to
reason out reality, thinks that it is in duty bound to resolve, and the
resolution of which Blood's revelation would eliminate from the sphere
of our duties, remains; but it remains as something to be met and dealt
with by faculties more akin to our activities and heroisms and
willingnesses, than to our logical powers. This is the anesthetic
insight, according to our author. Let _my_ last word, then, speaking
in the name of intellectual philosophy, be _his_ word.--"There is no
conclusion. What has concluded, that we might conclude in regard to
it? There are no fortunes to be told, and there is no advice to be
given.--Farewell!"

[1] Written during the early summer of 1910 and published in the
_Hibbert Journal_ for July of that year.

[2] "Yes! Paul is quite a correspondent!" said a good citizen of
Amsterdam, from whom I inquired the way to Mr. Blood's dwelling many
years ago, after alighting from the train. I had sought to identify
him by calling him an "author," but his neighbor thought of him only as
a writer of letters to the journals I have named.

[3] "How shall a man know he is alive--since in thought the knowing
constitutes the being alive, without knowing that thought (life) from
its opposite, and so knowing both, and so far as being is knowing,
being both? Each defines and relieves the other, each is impossible in
thought without the other; therefore each has no distinction save as
presently contrasting with the other, and each by itself is the same,
and nothing. Clearly, then, consciousness is neither of one nor of the
other nor of both, but a knowing subject perceiving them