Thanks for the belly laugh, guys...

See if you can fill in the blank that I added. I add it, with accompanying notes in brackets, as a visual aid to highlight what, from my historical perspective, leaps off the page.

"In Part III, we begin the study of philosophy itself from the perspective of cognitive science. We apply these analytical methods to important moments in the history of philosophy: Greek metaphysics, including the pre-Socratics, Plato, and Aristotle [ca. 600-300 BC]; [_________________________; ] Descartes's theory of mind and Enlightenment faculty psychology [ca. 1500-1800 AD]; Kant's moral theory; and analytical philosophy. These methods, we argue, lead to new and deep insights into these great intellectual edifices."

--- Philosophy in the Flesh, George Lakoff & Mark Johnson (New York: Basic Books, 1999), p. 8.

Actions and events, minds and brains, men and mice…

The problem of intentionality vis-à-vis physicalism is not an empirical problem; it is a categorical problem. Formal operations, for instance, are determinate in a way that physical operations cannot be. Intellection is, for instance, universally abstract in a way that physical “signs” cannot be. The contents of sensory experience are analytically non-identical with the physical correlates we infer as their causal substrate. And as for intentionality…

Intentionality and physical order are simply, categorically mutually irreducible. This is hardly a “pet claim” of Thomists. Read some J. Levine, or J. Searle, C. S. Pierce, or F. Brentano, or J. Kim, or W. Vallicella, or S. Kripke, or K. Gödel, or D. Melser. Indeed, read some D. Dennett: he is so committed to physicalism, and yet aware of the intentionality problem, that he denies the latter on behalf of the former.

The issue is simply not one that can be overcome by “more brain studies.” Intentionality, and its related immateriality, is, like purpose and action, simply not reducible to behavioral categories. Intentionality, purpose, action, formal order––these are simply “their own things” and not to be trifled with. Certainly, it is true to say that intellection occurs “naturally” insofar as it is metaphysically contiguous with the operations of its natural agents; but this must be qualified by the fact that nature, thus, operates with both material and immaterial powers.

In any case, consider the following scenarios (which I borrow from Richard Taylor in Action and Purpose):

a. A man attending a debate raises his hand in order to get the attention of debater Q, and thereby both attracts the attention of debater Q and scares off a fly.

b. A man attending a debate raises his hand in order to get the attention of the moderator, and thereby both attracts the attention of the moderator and scares off a fly.

c. A man attending a debate raises his hand in order to scare off a fly, and thereby both attracts the attention of debater Q and scares off the fly.

Behaviorally, and I should say neurologically, these events are indiscernible. Only on the supposition of a distinct purpose (”in order to”) can they be differentiated. Likewise with intentionality. Physically indiscernible phenomena can have different intentionality, different meaning. Physical causation is, to palm off of Walker Percy and Pierce, metaphysical dyadic, whereas language–-qua intentionality in action––is conceptually triadic, and, indeed, intersubjectively tetradic. Physical things only stand in formal, theoretical bonds with each others as we evoke those bonds by the intentional, immaterial power of referential language. An atom simply does not and cannot “refer to” something else; but language can and, incessantly, does “conscript” an atoms, and hordes or atoms, for such bonds.

Someone might, however, object that there could be neurological difference between a, b, and c. If neurologists discover which neuronal firings cause pain and various thoughts, then they could discover which combination of neuron firings n1 produce the impulse, “Get X’s attention.” In this case, the physicalist could produce a fancy detailed neurological story about how n1 causes some other set of neuron firings n2, which produce the thought “Raise your hand to get X’s attention.” It does seem coherent to say that in each of the “¬¬p in order to q” cases, the different q’s are discernible.

In reply, I would ask, "Which set of neuronal impulses, call it nx, accounts for the intentional ascription of intentional action to n1 and n2 for a., b. and c.?" And which neurons, in turn, account for the ascription between nx and that second-order ascription of intentionality? And so on. The terms of an intentional system may be, indeed are, scientifically measurable, but intentionality itself is not measurable, and therefore not a physical reality. Nothing intentional (which, again, does not mean "purposive" but rather "notionally directed at") simply and naturally falls out from any nx; nx orders n1 and n2 only if we can produce an intentional bond from outside the neuronal complex under observation.

The critic that invokes n1 and n2 as pure descriptions of all behavior is oblivious to the fact that we can only imagine a coherent difference between the a., b. and c. actions at the neural level because we already know how those actions are formally (viz., teleologically) distinct. We know the brain phenomena will be different "on the inside" because we already know the actions in which they are involved are formally different "on the outside." If, however, we strip away the explanations of the actions that I gave in listing them, they are effectively indiscernible. Without already knowing why we are observing different happenings in the brain, we can't coherently say the brain happenings correspond to distinct actions. For all the "action blind" observer knows, he is simply seeing minutely different neural patterns which result in visibly indistinguishable limb motions. Even if we suppose we could ask the person what he intended after each neural-behavioral episode, we would still just be resorting to the categorically autonomous, and truly explanatory, category of purpose and formal action. Even if we could observe a man’s brain on the sly, so he weren’t conscious of later having to talk about his intentions, we could only “decode” the neural activity by translating it into, and correlating it with, his stated aims.

But perhaps the physicalist is still not satisfied. "It seems," he goes on, "that there might very well be a physical difference between a neural pattern for 'raising one’s hand in order to get somebody’s attention' and 'raising one’s hand to brush away a fly'. Neural patterns are presumably very complex, with plenty of room for internal variation even when the external effects—the raising of the hand—are identical."

But, in reply, let us ask, "Would the raising of two separate men’s hands for the (same) purpose of shooing a fly be the same action?" Clearly, yes. Let us then ask, "Seeing as their actions are formally identically, would their neural states be proportionately identical?" It seems not. The formal determinateness of an action-for-some-end is irreducibly incommensurable with the complexities of specific neural acts.

Arguably, of course, since two different men are doing the swatting, they would be doing two technically different acts in spacetime, and this spatiotemporal difference could be construed as providing analogously sufficient identity between neural types of happenings and formal actions. Presumably, the same kinds of brain-stuff are involved in the same kinds of actions, so there is a rough but satisfactory identity between their actions and their brain events.

This a weak retort, however, for a couple reasons. First, the original scenario of two men doing exactly the same action-for-a-purpose preempts such a rough identity. Second, more importantly, if the same man were asked to repeat his own action-for-the-same-purpose numerous times, it seems incredible that each formally identical action would correlate to one and the same neural process every time. Presumably, given enough time, the man’s brain cells would change to such an extent that it would literally be different neurons and chemicals involved in the same action. Furthermore, imagine if we had the man perform the action for ten minutes, then had him drink two Jolt colas and perform it another ten minutes, and then had him take a Valium to perform it ten more minutes. Over thirty minutes, his brain would undergo vast amounts of neurochemical changes, which, while admittedly peripheral to his successful performance of the action, would certainly alter the specific properties of his relevant brain matter in performing the action (e.g., a hand-raise impulse mingled with a stifle-giggle or yawn impulse).

All the while, of course, the action remains one and the same. If it did not remain one and the same, on a purely formal level, there would be no way, let alone desire, to compare the neural happenings with the behavioral. I.e., if we didn’t already grasp that he is doing one and the same action in a formally identical way, we would not have any one thing to explore in relation to his brain states. We would just have numerous materially discrete happenings that we would correlate by Humean fiat.

Aside from these technical difficulties in the brain-reductionist platform, Taylor’s Action and Purpose provides much food for thought about how odd the idea of “mental desires” is for explaining action in sheer causal terms. If desires cause actions, what causes the desires? Do we have a certain desire to have a certain desire? Only if one is willing to reduce all behavior to sheer caused events is one able to circumvent this regress into a desire-cause spiral. There is a categorical difference between “a man’s hand being caused to go up and x occurring in succession” and “a man raising his hand in order to bring about x”. If action, as distinct from mere bodily movements, is just a pinball of neuronal fireworks, no one can be said to act rationally, i.e., for a cogent end, for an intelligible reason. Causes are not rational but actions are. Thus, if actions just are behavior, then there are no rational actions. But, of course, ends and reasons are integral to our entire taking-of an event to be an action as opposed to a mere happening in the first place. Smoke is caused to go up, but that is not an action. A man’s hand goes up for some reason but that is not simply a causal event.

A related problem for the causal reductionist is Popper’s argument that, without an extra-mental, formally discrete grasp of the event under analysis, we have no purely physical basis for calling this neurochemical or physical occurrence the “beginning” of the event and that occurrence the “end.” What is there about this particular neural firing, or this particular phoneme, considered physically, that dictates its formal, intentional place in our analysis? (Hint: nothing.)

Related to this is D. Melser’s claim (in a way, very reminiscent of Taylor’s criticisms in Action and Purpose) that a science of language and behavior are strictly impossible, since understanding language––i.e., knowing what's going on when certain sounds are emitted––requires cooperative use of it with the speaker being viewed. But since science by definition limits itself to an objective, non-participatory “view,” a purely scientific observer is asymptotically removed from "what it takes" to understand language. And if one cannot understand what is happening when one observes what is happening, one can't reasonably explain what is happening. The more objective science becomes, the less traction or right it has for “getting” the language events and treating them as meaningful (i.e., intentional); and the more involved science becomes in the meaning and use of language, the less objective it is. See the last section of his essay here http://www.derekmelser.org/essays/essayverbal.html

Apophatic humility…

In Scholastic theology, three methods of analogical inquiry were used in discussion of God: the via causalitatis, the via remotionis, and the via eminentiae (or, excellentiae). St. Thomas, for instance, treads the via causalitatis in the first ten or so chapters of the Summa Contra Gentes, where he argues from the effects of the Creator to the existence and nature of the Creator. Since, however, His effects are woefully inadequate to convey God's nature in a fitting way, the other two viae are invoked by the Scholastics to balance out the limited gains of the via causalitatis. God is a maker of effects, yes, but He is very "remote" from the limitations of makers as we think of them. His divine remoteness as Creator stands out principally in the way that He creates ex nihilo, whereas lesser makers always have to rely on some medium or tool or model outside themselves. The method of remotion is a constant reminder to us that our best arguments about God and our highest praises of Him are still far removed from what and how He actually is in se. As the IVth Lateran Council stated in 1215, “between the Creator and the creature there cannot be a likeness so great that the unlikeness is not greater [semper maior dissimilitudo in tanta similitudine].”

Further, the aspects which we can ascribe to God by analogy with lesser created things (by way of the viae causalitatis et remotionis), we must ascribe to God in an "eminent" or "excellent" way. Thus, by invoking the via eminentiae, we speak of God as a wise artisan, but eminently and supremely so. God is not simply a rough idea of love, but supereminently love; the Father not simply a paternal pattern, but a supereminently good father, etc. This trifold methodological tension is integral to Scholastic theology.

Critics of Scholastic theology, and Christian theology in general, often mistakenly assume that apophatic, or "negative", theology is a specifically Christian sort of obfuscation (as they would call it). But I believe apophatic limitations are a part and parcel of basic human thought, and that the Scholastic emphasis on God's transcendent "otherness", safeguarded by the via remotionis, is just a forthright way of connecting existential apophaticism to its Source.

Daoism is among the most apophatic belief systems known to humanity. The locus classicus is of course chapter 1 of the Daodejing: "道可道, 非常道。名可名, 非常名。Dao ke dao, feichang dao. Ming ke ming, feichang ming." (I leave it to the reader to view the translation via the link.) The basic idea is that, whatever you can think or say about the power (德) and the way (道), and however close you might get to it, you are still far from describing or knowing the highest reality in itself.

Similarly, in chapter 28 the 'power of the way' (道之德 Daozhide) is portrayed as an uncarved block (or "unwrought material," J. Legge) which, though formless and empty, yet holds within itself the fullness of all possible forms. Hence, the Dao defies our attempts to visualize and explain it. In the same chapter, the infant (or fetus) is lauded as a symbol of Daoist strength; though weak, immobile, untrained and unshaped, yet the infant possesses greater power than all just by being open to all forms and all levels of growth. Likewise, while God is entirely simple, yet He contains within Himself the fullness of being and all possible forms of created beings. Consider William Riordan's comments in Divine Light (2008, Ignatius Press, p. 128) on Denys the Areopagite's theology of the divine names:

God is described as great [μέγας] because of the multitude of His gifts (δορεάς: doreas), which are the perfections that He gives to His creatures. The myriads of creatures come forth as outgushings or springs (τὰς πεγαίας: tas pegaias) from Him, and yet He is in no way diminished. … But God is celebrated as small [μιχρός: micros] because He, in His perfections, "penetrates without hindrance through everything" (το διὰ πάντων αχωλύτως χωροΰν: to dia panton akolutos choroun). … Denys is drawing attention to God as the Small, who as Wisdom, permeates all beings.

Nor is there any shortness of apophaticism in Hinduism. Indeed, I think this sort of "natural apophatic-theology" is a classical component of all great human traditions. Even modern exact science has come to realize, grudgingly for some, perhaps, that even our best models are always true-but-only-rough and tentative approximations of natural reality. Our most secular theories, then, are subject to the a kind of Scholastic via remotionis. As Niels Bohr said, "If you think you can talk about quantum theory without feeling dizzy, you haven't understood the first word about it (Wenn es Ihnen beim Studium der Quantenmechanik nicht schwindelig wird, dann haben Sie sie nicht wirklich verstanden)." Coincidentally enough, Bohr was a Daoist most famous for his Taiji-like principle of complementarity.

There is, thus, an apophatic humility proper not only to most philosophical traditions but also to modern natural science itself. I think this is so because all reality stems from God in variously analogical levels of likeness to and conformity with His own supernature. Even in personal relationships, we come to see that there is an inner mystery about even our most intimate friends which surpasses, remotionally, as it were, our most complete descriptions of them and our most vivid experiences with them. Nothing fully discloses itself in purely cataphatic terms, not even a stone. Thus, existence reflects the Creator's revealed hiddenness in levels of analogy proper to their own corresponding laws of being.

Good God, man! Good God-Man!

The following was inspired by a thread at Just Thomism concerning James Chastek's post there about atheism and the idea of a good God. Chastek writes:

Let's face it, the claim that God is a loving father to the whole world is a Christian claim. Both authors above are therefore critiquing a Christian claim, but they sever it from its Christian basis and tie it to an interpretation that is downright silly. The Christian argument for the divine love is well known. Finish the following sentences: "God so loved the world that _____" or "Greater love hath no man than that ____". If you are Heather Mac Donald, you fill in the blank with "he attends on us", if you are Medawar, you fill it in with "he looks after small children as a doting schoolteacher". Having written in an obviously ridiculous answer they then- quite reasonably- call the answer ridiculous, and then (of course) see no evidence for it. ... The Christian claim for the fatherly love of God is based on faith. If it is by faith that we hold that God became man, then it is by faith that we hold that God became man to die out of love for us, in order that we might saved.

An atheist named Ben critcized this post for the error he sees endemic in Christianity, namely, that of setting low standards for God's love and then claiming His actions raise no "problem of evil".

It seems to me, however, that what is happening in the thread is the perennial mistake of subsuming God and His creatures under some idealized rubric of categories. This is the presumption of an a-Christological worldview. The key premise for Ben, it seems, is the moral primacy of "individual autonomy." Unfortunately, however, this relies on an assumption that "individuality" not only is coherent per se (which I deny) but also presides over God and creatures univocally. Likewise it is assumed that there is some highest standard of goodness, to which both God and man must submit.

But the Catholic protest to all such pagan "subsumption" is simply the Eucharist. In the Eucharist alone do we find our canon of humanity and divine goodness. In Chrsit alone, as He is truly given to us in the divine litrugy, we find all the treasures of wisdom and goodness. The Eucharist, which is one with the Cross, is not something that happens in some larger "given" field of being (viz., the supposedly "neutral" universe as such), but something which simultaneously grounds creation as stemming from the Father in the Son by the Holy Spirit and elevates it to the same divine persons in common. Ontologically, Christ Incarnate is the basis for there being individual humans at all. Only insofar as a creation suitable for humans is ratified and redeemed in His Incarnation (made present historically and concretely in the Eucharist), can we fathom the creation of humans. Christ partakes of our humanness, not as if it were some antecedent metaphysical category limiting God, but as the ordained pattern for our existence. Thus, our humanity becomes the means by which we find (or lose) God. It is not that Christ partook of humanity qua ideal form, but that humanity is privileged to exist actually by participation in the kenotic glory of Christ Incarnate. God did not look ahead and see "humanity," and then decide that was a fitting way for us to know and love Him. Quite the contrary: He looked ahead at a myriad of ways in which creatures might reflect and share in His goodness, and decided "humanity" was a fitting way for that self-diffusion to happen. Christ is not to be measured by His likeness to our instinct for "the good man," for we are human only insofar as we possess a likeness to Him as the Suffering Servant.

This shows us that our canon for good human conduct is to be patterned after gratuitous suffering on behalf of others who can give us nothing in return. This is precisely why much of "being human" means enduring life for the good of future generations and people we don't even know. This impulse in humans to keep living and to "make things better" is but an analogical reflection of Christ’s own preeminent one-way kenosis on our behalf. As long as the standard for "good conduct" is reified anonymously and pitted against God-in-Christ, the atheist critic is simply not engaging the Catholic Church’s own claims about good and evil. This, I believe, is James Chastek's point. Precisely in the intersection of the gratuitous existence of the world (i.e., nothing need have been the case apart from God) and the gratuitous suffering we can offer for others, we find a clue to the mystery of evil. Ezekiel denies a man will be punished individually for the individual sins of another, but unfortunately, no one exists individually. We exist collectively, derivatively, as members of the human race. Hence, we can individually experience the collective evils of our race, as well as individually add to them. So, if we desire to exist as humans, we have no choice but to exist as the heirs of concrete humans before us. This, of course, entails inheriting humanity from them as much as inheriting the woes of sin. Certainly, if God wanted to "dote on" us individually, so that we would never experience the rotten fruit of our ancestors, He could—namely, by not creating us as humans. We are not punished for the sins of others, but we are subject to the punishments given to others insofar as others are the ontological and psychological basis for our particular humanity.

Along many of the above lines, I highly recommend the reading of Michael Liccione's essays, "Mystery and Explanation in Aquinas's Account of Creation" and "The Problems of Evil" and a reading of Donald Keefe's Covenantal Theology and his other writings on creation, theology of history, and the Eucharist. (John Kelleher has good introductory materials to Keefe's work. Also, Fr. David Meconi, SJ [PDF!], has a good essay on Keefe's theology of history, but it seems to be offline. I have a copy on my computer, which I can send to those who request it.)

Lastly, as for Max Tegmark's surd-omniverse, which Ben cited as a coherent naturalistic explanation of existence, I must interject: if it a) is mathematically-axiomatically formalizable and b) claims to provide a necessarily true description of the physical universe, it is subject to Gödel's incompleteness theorems, and is therefore not necessarily true. Further, insofar as it purports to be a scientific theory, it needs empirical backing. Suffice to say, the empirical backing for the unified existence of every logically possible state of affairs (SoA) is not only slim but also asymptotically hard to come by.

I have to wonder: surely "a purely possible state of affairs" is logically coherent, but can such a SoA be said to exist in Tegmark-space? Likewise: surely "a metaphysically simple cosmos with no parallel universes or alternative modes of being" is logically coherent, but can such a SoA be said to exist in Tegmark-space?

Random Chinese notes afore I forget...

Niao bu lei, lei bu niao.

Pa bu jiang, jiang bu pa.

Zhe ke zhe, feichang ruan. Zhe ke zhe, feichang ying.

Wisdom from…

JOHN CHRYSOSTOMOS (347–407): Gathering the harvest

It was to save the apostles from anxiety that the Lord called the gospel a harvest. It was almost as if he said: Everything is ready, all is prepared. I am sending you to harvest the ripe grain. You will be able to sow and reap on the same day. You must be like the farmer who rejoices when he goes out to gather in his crops. He looks happy and is glad of heart. His hard work and many difficulties forgotten, he hurries out eagerly to reap their reward, hastening to collect his annual returns. Nothing stands in the way, there is no obstacle anywhere, nor any uncertainty regarding the future. There will be no heavy rain, no hail or drought, no devastating legions of locusts. And since the farmer at harvest time fears no such disasters, the reapers set to work dancing and leaping for joy. You must be like them when you go out into the world — indeed your joy must be very much greater. You also are to gather in a harvest — a harvest easily reaped, a harvest already there waiting for you. You have only to speak, not to labor. Lend me your tongue, and you will see the ripe grain gathered into the royal granary.

And with this he sent them out, saying: Remember that I am with you always, until the end of the world.
(Dernières homélies, Hom. 10, 2-3.)

John Chrysostom, patriarch of Constantinople, spent a life of preaching and earned the title "the golden-mouthed."

ST. AUGUSTINE: The Lord Builds the House

Unless the Lord builds the house, the builders labor in vain, declares the Psalmist. Who are those who labor to build it? All those who in the Church preach the word of God, the ministers of God's Sacraments. But "unless the Lord builds the house, the builders labor in vain." We speak from without; he builds from within. It is he who builds, counsels, inspires fear, opens your minds and directs them to the faith.
-- Commentary on Psalm 126, 1

Prayer. Lord, I have asked for only one thing from you, to live in your house all the days of my life, to gaze upon your delight.
-- Commentary on Psalm 26 (2), 17

ST. THOMAS D'AQUINO: TO KNOW GOD WE MUST USE THE WAY OF REMOTION

[In Scholastic theology, three methods of analogical inquiry were used in discussion of God: the via causalitatis, the via remotionis, and the via eminentiae (or, excellentiae). St. Thomas was treading the via prima (i.e., causality) in the above couple chapters of SCG, where he argued from the effects of the Creator to the existence and nature of the Creator. Since, however, His effects are woefully inadequate to convey God's nature in a fitting way, the other two viae are invoked to balance out the limited gains of the via causalitatis. God is a maker of effects, yes, but He is "remote" from the limitations of makers as we think of them, principally in the way that He creates ex nihilo, whereas lesser makers always have to rely on some medium or tool or model outside themselves. As the IVth Lateran Council stated in 1215, “between the Creator and the creature there cannot be a likeness so great that the unlikeness is not greater [semper maior dissimilitudo in tanta similitudine].” Further, the aspects which we can ascribe to God by analogy with lesser created things (by way of the viae causalitatis et remotionis), we must ascribe to God in an "eminent" or "excellent" way. God is a wise artisan, but eminently and supremely so. God is not simply a rough idea of love, but supereminently love; the Father not simply a paternal pattern, but a supereminently good father, etc.

The methodological "tension" of the viae tritae occurs and re-occurs through SCG and most Scholastic works, so you should keep an eye open for it.]

[1] We have shown that there exists a first being, whom we call God. We must, accordingly, now investigate the properties of this being.

[2] Now, in considering the divine substance, we should especially make use of the method of remotion. For, by its immensity, the divine substance surpasses every form that our intellect reaches. Thus we are unable to apprehend it by knowing what it is. Yet we are able to have some knowledge of it by knowing what it is not. Furthermore, we approach nearer to a knowledge of God according as through our intellect we are able to remove more and more things from Him. For we know each thing more perfectly the more fully we see its differences from other things; for each thing has within itself its own being, distinct from all other things. …

[3] However, in the consideration of the divine substance we cannot take a what as a genus; nor can we derive the distinction of God from things by differences affirmed of God. For this reason, we must derive the distinction of God from other beings by means of negative differences. And just as among affirmative differences one contracts the other, so one negative difference is contracted by another that makes it to differ from many beings. For example, if we say that God is not an accident, we thereby distinguish Him from all accidents. Then, if we add that He is not a body, we shall further distinguish Him from certain substances. And thus, proceeding in order, by such negations God will be distinguished from all that He is not. Finally, there will then be a proper consideration of God’s substance when He will be known as distinct from all things. Yet, this knowledge will not be perfect, since it will not tell us what God is in Himself.

[4] As a principle of procedure in knowing God by way of remotion, therefore, let us adopt the proposition which, from what we have said, is now manifest, namely, that God is absolutely unmoved. The authority of Sacred Scripture also confirms this. For it is written: “I am the Lord and I change not” (Mal. 3:6); ...“with whom there is no change” (James 2:17). Again: “God is not man... that He should be changed (Num. 23:19).
(SCG I, xiv)

ST. FRANCIS DE SALES:

How fortunate is that soul who is willing to have a great deal of tribulation before departing from this life! How can one possibly learn how to love deeply and sincerely if not among the spines, the crosses and the feeling of abandonment over a long period? Our dear Savior thus proved his limitless love in the agony of His passion. Learn well how to love Christ on the bed of sorrow; on this bed He formed your heart before creating it, foreseeing it in His divine plan. Yes the Savior has numbered all your sorrows and all your sufferings. He has paid for them with His blood, with all the patience and love that is necessary. Be satisfied, therefore, to accept generously all that God has in store for you.
(Letters 1043; O. XVI, pp. 300-301)

G. K. CHESTERTON:

OUR modern mystics make a mistake when they wear long hair or loose ties to attract the spirits. The elves and the old gods when they revisit the earth really go straight for a dull top-hat. For it means simplicity, which the gods love.
('Charles Dickens.')

9/5