The problem of cultivating these powers in a man, when reduced to its simplest terms, is reduced to the problem of cultivating his imagination or organ of not needing to be told things.
However much a man may know about wise reading and about the principles of economy in knowledge, in an infinite world the measure of his knowledge is bound to be determined, in the long run, by the capacity of his organ of not needing to be told things—of reading books through their backs.
II—On Reading for Principles
I
On Changing One’s Conscience
We were sitting by my fireplace—several of our club. I had just been reading out loud a little thing of my own. I have forgotten the title. It was something about Books that Other People ought to Read, I think. I stopped rather suddenly, rather more suddenly than anybody had hoped. At least nobody had thought what he ought to say about it. And I saw that the company, after a sort of general, vague air of having exclaimed properly, was settling back into the usual helpless silence one expects—after the appearance of an idea at clubs.
“Why doesn’t somebody say something?” I said.
P. G. S. of M.: “We are thinking.”
“Oh,” I said. I tried to feel grateful. But everybody kept waiting.