It seems that what one learns, at least in my case, is determined by what one values, what one considers worth knowing: and what is worth knowing, for me, is that which leads us back to reality, as opposed to the mass of knowledge that is there simply because it is useful, but comes at the price of leading us farther and farther away from reality. This is why I favor the anti-philosophers, the skeptics.

As soon as one expresses something definite one creates its counterargument. This is the nature of finite human expression.

Today’s skeptics are Cartesians who forgot that Descartes needed God.

This rather astonishing and beautiful passage is from William Franke’s On What Cannot Be Said. I believe Franke is one of the most poetic academic philosophers writing today, and one of the very few who has not given up on Meaning.

“…human finitude transforms all things after its own image in an infinite process of metamorphosis. In our very evanescence is lodged our cosmic task: by saying the things that are and that vanish, we give them the present-perfect status of eternally having been, once, once and no more, never again, yet irrevocably having been.”