known to our personal experience, that a man may do what he simply recognizes as right, although it appears likely to cause only pain and not pleasure to every person concerned in the matter, present or to come, then how can any accumulation of pleasurable experience culminate in the word right
, any more than the utmost efforts bestowed by horticulture upon the production of the potato, which is a tuber, can culminate in converting it into an orange, which is a fruit?
If this is all that the most modern phase of science can offer, it seems to me an involuntary admission that science has here stepped beyond its limits, and that it maybe necessary to remand not only poetry and religion, but even ethics, to the world that lies outside of it.
Yet on these points I should hardly venture an opinion, in consideration of the fact that there are so many who have devoted their lives to these especial investigations.
My whole aim has been to assert from the point of view of literature that a world outside of science exists.
This done, I must leave the delineation of its boundaries to those whose studies have extended far more profoundly than mine into the astronomy of the soul.