rtals" because we are unable to disassociate it
from personality; and because, while the generations of man pass
away, this vision does not pass away.

Have I, in giving to this natural human ideal, such a formidable
name--a name with so many bold and startling implications--been
merely tempted into an alluring metaphorical image, or have I
been driven to make use of this expression by reason of the
intrinsic nature of life itself?

I think that the latter of these two alternatives is the true one. The
"logic" by which this conclusion is reached differs from the
"logic" of the abstract reason in the sense of being the organic,
dynamic, and creative "logic" of the complex vision itself, using
the very apex-thought of its pyramidal activity in apprehending a
mystery which is at once the secret of its own being and the secret
of the unfathomable universe into the depths of which it forces its
way.

The expression, then, "the vision of the immortals" is not a mere
pictorial image but is the definite articulation of a profound reality
from which there is no escape if certain attributes of the human
soul are to be trusted at all. We cannot get rid of this dilemma, one
of those dilemmas which offer alternative possibilities so
appallingly opposite, that the choice between them seems like a
choice between two eternities.

Is the vision of these immortals, the existence of which as a
standard of all philosophical discussion seems to be implied by the
very nature of man's soul, to be regarded or not to be regarded as
the vision of real and living personalities?

In other words, to put the case once more in its rigid outlines, is
that objective vision of truth, beauty, and goodness of which our
individual subjective visions are only imperfect representations,
the real vision of actual living "gods" or only the projection, upon
the evasive medium which holds all human souls together, of such
beauty and such truth and such goodness as these souls find that
they possess in common?

This is the crux of the whole human comedy. This is the throw of
the dice between a world without hope and a world with hope.
Philosophers are capable of treating this subject with quiet
intellectual curiosity; but all living men and women--philosophers
included--come, at moments, to a pitiless and adamantine
"impasse" where the eternal "two ways" branch off in unfathomable
perspective.

In our normal and superficial moods we are able to find a