me? I know there is no unity and no emotion in the excited sea;
each wave is composed of hundreds of thousands of single drops of water,
and each drop composed of billions of atoms, and every movement results
from mechanical laws under the influence of the pressing water and air.
There is hydrogen and there is oxygen, and there is chloride of sodium,
and the dark blue color is nothing but the reflection of billions of
ether vibrations. But have I really to choose between two statements
concerning the waves, one of which is valuable and the other not? On the
contrary, both have fundamental value. If I take the attitude of
appreciation, it would be absurd to say that this wave is composed of
chemical elements which I do not see; and if I take the attitude of
physical explanation, it would be equally absurd to deny that such
elements are all of which the wave is made. From the one standpoint, the
ocean is really excited; from the other standpoint, the molecules are
moving according to the laws of hydrodynamics. If I want to understand
the meaning of this scene every reminiscence of physics will lead me
astray; if I want to calculate the movement of my boat, physics alone
can help me.

As long as we deal with outer nature, there is hardly a fear of
confusing the various attitudes; but it becomes by far more complex when
we deal with man and his inner life. We might abstract entirely from
aesthetic appreciation or from moral valuation, we might take man just as
an object of knowledge; and yet what we know about him may be entirely
different in accordance with our special attitude. Each kind of
knowledge may be entirely true, and yet true only from the particular
standpoint. Let us consider two extremes. If I meet a friend and we
enter into a talk, I try to understand his thoughts and to share his
views. I agree or disagree with him; I sympathize with his feelings, I
estimate his purposes. In short, he is for me a center of aims and
intentions which I interpret: he comes in question for me as a self
which has its meaning and has its unity. The more I am interested in his
opinions, the more I feel in every utterance, in every gesture, the
expression of his will and his purposes; their whole reality for me lies
in the fact that they point to something which the speaker intends; his
personality lies in his attitude towards the surroundings, towards the
world. Yet I may take an entirely different relation to the same man. I
may a