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Not merely SUCH intellects either your Humes and Berkeleys and Hegels; but practical observers of facts, your Galileos, Daltons, Faradays, have found it impossible to treat the NAIFS sense-termini of common sense as ultimately real.
A poet is a painter of the soul, but a great artist is not therefore a bad man. MONTAIGNE appears to have been sensible of this fact in the literary character. Of authors, he says, he likes to read their little anecdotes and private passions: "Car j'ai une singulière curiosité de connaître l'âme et les naïfs jugemens de mes auteurs.
These things are not insincere, as Ruskin would say; but they are pretentious, and they are not positively naïfs. I should mention that the walls of the choir are embroidered in places with Margaret's tantalising device, which partly perhaps because it is tantalising is so very decorative, as they say in London.
These things are not insincere, as Ruskin would say; but they are pre- tentious, and they are not positively naifs. I should mention that the walls of the choir are embroidered in places with Margaret's tantalizing device, which partly, perhaps, because it is tantalizing is so very decorative, as they say in London.
Both seem to subscribe to immortality. The sophisticate refrains from procrastinating because he believes that he will live to pay the price. Naifs procrastinate because they believe that they will live to perform the task later. They also try to delay overindulgence because they assume that they will live to enjoy the benefits.
In it the authors suggest that over-indulgers and procrastinators alike indeed place undue emphasis on the near future. Self-awareness surprisingly only exacerbates the situation: "why resist? I have a self-control problem. Better indulge a little now than a lot later." But a closer look exposes an underlying conviction of perdurability. The authors distinguish sophisticates from naifs.
Who has not contemplated, if not with the eyes of faith, at least with the admiration inspired by an incontrollable greatness of soul, the struggles of these athletes of penitence? . . . . Everything is to be found there variety, pathos, the sublime and simple epic of a race of men, naifs as children, and strong as giants."
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