The Helena independent. [volume] (Helena, Mont.) 1875-1943, 1890-12-16

facts now known: therefore it isn't true
when m ore facts become known. perhaps
it won't be true. It is only question Of
now ana then and thereafter. IF this seems
Morgan,s Book Of Paradoxes' and study it
hard. Properly speaking. however, ! para
dox ID staten ent that is true and only
seems to be false. The word is popularity
misused. Pilates question, by the way
was 'Quld est veritas? nd the old ana
gram OF It is Est viz qui adest'-in othe
words truth ID the present man. Do you
catch on?'
thinking?'
Commonly he can't. But the great les
son OF life is that one mu st become apa-
sibie-5ust enough to get along from intel
lectual hand to mouth. Thought is only
an embarrassment. When a man gets rid
of the habit of thinking, he knows and acts
and by and by he forms the habit of know
ing and acting. What do you think of a
you are still baby-what do you think of
man like Herbert Spencer who writes big
books to prove that man can't know, can't
really know anything, not even the unknow-
able1 Why, my son, the unknowable is the
only thing that man can know. Thyself,
my child, IS the one great unknowable
thing, and at the bottom It is the only thing
thou dost know. 'ris consciousness, my
pretty one. Grab yourself by your boot
straps or rather by your hootsy-tootsies and
lift yourself over that fact If you can"
THAT is another of your blasted para
$50 it is, and glory in it. Remember,
my lad, what / said was the proper defini-
ton of a paradox. Oh! this internal think
ing! Take the divine trinity of the syllog-
ISM All A is Il; all G is A. Ergo, all G ia
B. Isn't it hefty? Isn't it redolent Of the
air of the mountain tops? Doesn't it kinder
watt YOU off with your scanty shirt Of h! hu-
I'd rather be a pagan sucked in creed
outworn' than syllogi SIN singer! A pa
gan? / should say wo uld! Good old pa
gans! Nice old Aphrodite Anadyomene!
Lovely Venus Amathusia Beautiful Bal
der aSri9us far- s Ryps1iGn;
Let us lie on the hills like gods toesther.
careless of mankind, and let the heights re-
echo our inextinguishable laughter! Oh!
damn it, want to be a dolphin and tote
Arion around on my back over the waves of
the wine-dark sea! Give me scales opales-
Or make man of me dwelling with the
light-footed dryads of Tempe or the dales
of Already and chasing them along the
winding messy ways.
'Oh, for draught of vintage that has been
Cooled long time in the deep-delved earth,
Tasting of Flora and the country green,
Wine and frovenoal song and sun-browned
mirth."
81 don't want to think. WON'T think.
You can't hire me to think. It makes me i'll
to be forever
Here, where men sit and hear each other groan,
Where palsy shakes few last sad gray hairs.
Where youth grows pale and spectre-tLin and
dies,
Where but to think is to be full Of sorrow
AM leaden eyed despair
Where beauty cannot keen her lustrous eyes,
Or new love smile at them beyond tomorrow"
SIT seems to me that for man who
doesn't want to think, who won't think,
and who can't be kicked into thinking, you
know your Keats pretty we'll"
Keats never thought in his life,'' said
the man, Except when he was ill. He heard
a voice out of heaven saying unto him,
Write, and he wrote. I'm hungry! I'm
hungry Give me something to drink!''-
New York Sun.