Where Less is More

Alexander Pope advises that we drink deep of the Pierian spring, for a little learning is a dangerous thing. A little knowledge, like a little learning, is indeed a dangerous thing except in the case of persons, where a lot of knowledge endangers love, respect, and admiration. Propinquity breeds familiarity, and familiarity contempt. Distance preserves and augments what propinquity diminishes. In matters sartorial this holds as well, as witness the robes of the judge which add an aura of dignity and majesty to a poor mortal who, under the aspect of eternity, and under the distancing attire, is as wretched as the man in the dock.

The Peninsular Man

No man is an island. He can't be. Ought he be a continent? No.

The healthy man is a peninsula. He is connected to the mainland, and nourished by that connection, but he doesn't allow himself to be influenced from all sides. A part of him juts into the oceanic. 

The peninsular life is best.

……………………………….

A long-time reader responds (30 November 2018):

So I read your post just now a) at the outer extremity of a literal peninsula; b) linked to my life-partner only by the narrow isthmus of the telephone; c) suddenly disconnected from the quotidian working world by my recent layoff; d) having spent the last decade or two immersing myself in old books and questioning all that I thought I knew; and e) generally projecting myself further and further outward from the presentist mass-society craton into the "oceanic" of the past, the unknowable future, and the great mystery of creation and human awareness.

In other words: peninsular.

Many are the pleasures of blog. One is the pleasure of giving food for thought. Another is the pleasure of receiving appreciation.