which seems to wind us up so blankly, there is always a
BEYOND.
And the strange thing about that Beyond is that it is really no Beyond at all: it is There all the time; but we can hardly see it for the rather odd reason that we are too close.
And this Beyond that is always There is the real Story, if we only knew it.
What we read is only foot-notes at the bottom of the page to explain the real Story.
But because our eyes are so close to the page, and because the page is so very large, we often only see the foot-notes, which are most interesting of themselves.
Then sometimes we deny that the page is there, saying the foot-notes are all, which is rather foolish: for what is the good of Notes on Nothing?
And a man who buries his nose in the Notes, and tries to read the writing by smelling it, is a sinner; and he usually knows a lot about nothing.
And a man who holds his eyes close to the page, and pries into the Notes, is a scientist; and he usually knows a lot about the Notes, and nothing about the Story, which the Notes are on.
And a man who stands back a bit, and says he can read the whole thing, Notes and all, and explain it easily, is a Philosopher; and he usually knows a little about both Notes and Story.