r world
(real or imaginary) in order to have something to change it to.

We need not debate about the mere words evolution or progress:
personally I prefer to call it reform. For reform implies form. It
implies that we are trying to shape the world in a particular image; to
make it something that we see already in our minds. Evolution is a
metaphor from mere automatic unrolling. Progress is a metaphor from
merely walking along a road--very likely the wrong road. But reform is a
metaphor for reasonable and determined men: it means that we see a
certain thing out of shape and we mean to put it into shape. And we
know what shape.

Now here comes in the whole collapse and huge blunder of our age. We
have mixed up two different things, two opposite things. Progress should
mean that we are always changing the world to suit the vision. Progress
does mean (just now) that we are always changing the vision. It should
mean that we are slow but sure in bringing justice and mercy among men:
it does mean that we are very swift in doubting the desirability of
justice and mercy: a wild page from any Prussian sophist makes men doubt
it. Progress should mean that we are always walking towards the New
Jerusalem. It does mean that the New Jerusalem is always walking away
from us. We are not altering the real to suit the ideal. We are altering
the ideal: it is easier.

Silly examples are always simpler; let us suppose a man wanted a
particular kind of world; say, a blue world. He would have no cause to
complain of the slightness or swiftness of his task; he might toil for a
long time at the transformation; he could work away (in every sense)
until all was blue. He could have heroic adventures; the putting of the
last touches to a blue tiger. He could have fairy dreams; the dawn of a
blue moon. But if he worked hard, that high-minded reformer would
certainly (from his own point of view) leave the world better and bluer
than he found it. If he altered a blade of grass to his favourite colour
every day, he would get on slowly. But if he altered his favourite
colour every day, he would not get on at all. If, after reading a fresh
philosopher, he started to paint everything red or yellow, his work
would be thrown away: there would be nothing to show except a few blue
tigers walking about, specimens of his early bad manner. This is exactly
the position of the average modern thinker. It will be said that this is
avowedly a preposterous example.