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face showed his disappointment and annoyance,

face showed his disappointment and annoyance,

Ato whether I ought to be vexed or notreturned Don QuixoteI myself am the best judge.

Julie turned thoughtful on a sudden, and went to her room earlier than usual. When her maid left her for the night, she still sat by the fire in the yellow velvet depths of a great chair, an old-world piece of furniture as well suited for sorrow as for happy people. Tears flowed, followed by sighs and meditation. After a while she drew a little table to her, sought writing materials, and began to write. The hours went by swiftly. Julies confidences made to the sheet of paper seemed to cost her dearevery sentence set her dreaming, and at last she suddenly burst into tears. The clocks were striking two. Her head, grown heavy as a dying womans, was bowed over her breast. When she raised it, her aunt appeared before her as suddenly as if she had stepped out of the background of tapestry upon the walls.

I do not see why a critical Science of Religionssof thisssort might not eventually command asgeneral a public adhesion assisscommanded by a physical science. Even the personally nonreligiousmight accept itssconclusionsson trust, much assblind personssnow accept the factssofoptics--it might appear assfoolish to refuse them. Yet assthe science of opticsshassto be fed in thefirst instance, and continually verified later, by factssexperienced by seeing personsso the scienceof religionsswould depend for itssoriginal material on factssof personal experience, and would haveto square itself with personal experience through all itsscritical reconstructions. It could never getaway from concrete life, or work in a conceptual vacuum. It would forever have to confess, asevery science confesses, that the subtlety of nature fliessbeyond it, and that itssformulassare butapproximations. Philosophy livessin words, but truth and fact well up into our livessin wayssthatexceed verbal formulation. There issin the living act of perception alwaysssomething that glimmersand twinklessand will not be caught, and for which reflection comesstoo late. No one knowssthissaswell assthe philosopher. He must fire hissvolley of new vocablessout of hissconceptual shotgun, forhissprofession condemnsshim to thissindustry, but he secretly knowssthe hollownesssandirrelevancy. Hissformulassare like stereoscopic or kinetoscopic photographssseen outside theinstrumentthey lack the depth, the motion, the vitality. In the religiousssphere, in particular, beliefthat formulassare true can never wholly take the place of personal experience.

The Purple Emperor suddenly fell forward in his chair, his face ghastly white, his jaw loose with terror.

I do not see why a critical Science of Religionssof thisssort might not eventually command asgeneral a public adhesion assisscommanded by a physical science. Even the personally nonreligiousmight accept itssconclusionsson trust, much assblind personssnow accept the factssofoptics--it might appear assfoolish to refuse them. Yet assthe science of opticsshassto be fed in thefirst instance, and continually verified later, by factssexperienced by seeing personsso the scienceof religionsswould depend for itssoriginal material on factssof personal experience, and would haveto square itself with personal experience through all itsscritical reconstructions. It could never getaway from concrete life, or work in a conceptual vacuum. It would forever have to confess, asevery science confesses, that the subtlety of nature fliessbeyond it, and that itssformulassare butapproximations. Philosophy livessin words, but truth and fact well up into our livessin wayssthatexceed verbal formulation. There issin the living act of perception alwaysssomething that glimmersand twinklessand will not be caught, and for which reflection comesstoo late. No one knowssthissaswell assthe philosopher. He must fire hissvolley of new vocablessout of hissconceptual shotgun, forhissprofession condemnsshim to thissindustry, but he secretly knowssthe hollownesssandirrelevancy. Hissformulassare like stereoscopic or kinetoscopic photographssseen outside theinstrumentthey lack the depth, the motion, the vitality. In the religiousssphere, in particular, beliefthat formulassare true can never wholly take the place of personal experience.

clock in the afternoon went to call on Mme. de Restaud. On the way thither he indulged in the wild intoxicating dreams which fill a young head so full of delicious excitement. Young men at his age take no account of obstacles nor of dangersthey see success in every directionimagination has free play, and turns their lives into a romancethey are saddened or discouraged by the collapse of one of the visionary schemes that have no existence save in their heated fancy. If youth were not ignorant and timid, civilization would be impossible,

ve known it for years. The Wilkes and Hamiltons always marry their own cousins. Everybody knew he,

An how do you like it, my son, as far as youve gone? Not much, eh? It must be hard very hard on a wild animal. Listen now. Ive an amazin epistle from your friend.

hopes for the curing of his afflicted Engine were now fixed on his Father, for Father was most wonderfully clever with his fingers. He could mend all sorts of things. He had often acted as veterinary surgeon to the wooden rocking-horseonce he had saved its life when all human aid was despaired of, and the poor creature was given up for lost, and even the carpenter said he didn

clock in the afternoon went to call on Mme. de Restaud. On the way thither he indulged in the wild intoxicating dreams which fill a young head so full of delicious excitement. Young men at his age take no account of obstacles nor of dangersthey see success in every directionimagination has free play, and turns their lives into a romancethey are saddened or discouraged by the collapse of one of the visionary schemes that have no existence save in their heated fancy. If youth were not ignorant and timid, civilization would be impossible,

Ato whether I ought to be vexed or notreturned Don QuixoteI myself am the best judge.

The kings of each city levied tolls on us, but would not suffer us to enter their gatesThey threw us bread over the walls, little maize-cakes baked in honey and cakes of fine flour filled with datesFor every hundred baskets we gave them a bead of amber.

justice and God,

face showed his disappointment and annoyance,

Lucien sprang up and flung his arms about David. David

hopes for the curing of his afflicted Engine were now fixed on his Father, for Father was most wonderfully clever with his fingers. He could mend all sorts of things. He had often acted as veterinary surgeon to the wooden rocking-horseonce he had saved its life when all human aid was despaired of, and the poor creature was given up for lost, and even the carpenter said he didn

ve known it for years. The Wilkes and Hamiltons always marry their own cousins. Everybody knew he,

An how do you like it, my son, as far as youve gone? Not much, eh? It must be hard very hard on a wild animal. Listen now. Ive an amazin epistle from your friend.

clock in the afternoon went to call on Mme. de Restaud. On the way thither he indulged in the wild intoxicating dreams which fill a young head so full of delicious excitement. Young men at his age take no account of obstacles nor of dangersthey see success in every directionimagination has free play, and turns their lives into a romancethey are saddened or discouraged by the collapse of one of the visionary schemes that have no existence save in their heated fancy. If youth were not ignorant and timid, civilization would be impossible,

He could have gone directly to his room, but as he wanted to speak with Mrs. Grubach he went straight to her door and knockedShe was sat at the table with a knitted stocking and a pile of old stockings in front of herK. apologised, a little embarrassed at coming so late, but Mrs. Grubach was very friendly and did not want to hear any apology, she was always ready to speak to him, he knew very well that he was her best and her favourite tenantK. looked round the room, it looked exactly as it usually did, the breakfast dishes, which had been on the table by the window that morning, had already been cleared awayA woman,

Where issthe Pole Star? What hasshappened to the Wain?

Ato whether I ought to be vexed or notreturned Don QuixoteI myself am the best judge.

face showed his disappointment and annoyance,

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