or will definitely this or that.
Finally they retreat beyond our ken into the repose--the inorganic
kingdom--of as yet unawakened interest.

In either case--the repose of perfect ignorance or of perfect
knowledge--disturbance is troublesome. When first starting on an
Atlantic steamer, our rest is hindered by the screw; after a short time,
it is hindered if the screw stops. A uniform impression is practically
no impression. One cannot either learn or unlearn without pains or pain.

CONSCIOUS AND UNCONSCIOUS KNOWERS THE LAW AND GRACE. (FROM CHAPTER II.
OF LIFE AND HABIT.)

Certain it is that we know best what we are least conscious of knowing,
or at any rate least able to prove; as, for example, our own existence,
or that there is a country England. If any one asks us for proof on
matters of this sort, we have none ready, and are justly annoyed at being
called to consider what we regard as settled questions. Again, there is
hardly anything which so much affects our actions as the centre of the
earth (unless, perhaps, it be that still hotter and more unprofitable
spot the centre of the universe), for we are incessantly trying to get as
near it as circumstances will allow, or to avoid getting nearer than is
for the time being convenient. Walking, running, standing, sitting,
lying, waking, or sleeping, from birth till death it is a paramount
object with us; even after death--if it be not fanciful to say so--it is
one of the few things of which what is left of us can still feel the
influence; yet what can engross less of our attention than this dark and
distant spot so many thousands of miles away?

The air we breathe, so long as it is neither too hot nor cold, nor rough,
nor full of smoke--that is to say, so long as it is in that state with
which we are best acquainted--seldom enters into our thoughts; yet there
is hardly anything with which we are more incessantly occupied night and
day.

Indeed, it is not too much to say that we have no really profound
knowledge upon any subject--no knowledge on the strength of which we are
ready to act at moments unhesitatingly without either preparation or
after-thought--till we have left off feeling conscious of the possession
of such knowledge, and of the grounds on which it rests. A lesson
thoroughly learned must be like the air which feels so light, though
pressing so heavily against us, because every pore of our skin is
saturated, so to speak, with it on all side