Montaigne on a lazy Sunday morning

Nothing could be better than picking up some useless book on a Sunday morning, when everyone else is asleep, and sitting quietly in your room, the sun lovely and weak, as you eagerly await the perfect breakfast (hash browns, grapefruit juice, baked beans, a French scrambled egg and some good, strong coffee).

Well, perfection never arrives and was more in the anticipation of it. (Made do with Cheerios and toast, if you must know).

Montaigne's cat:

'We have some mediocre understanding of their meaning; so do they of ours, in about the same degree. they flatter us, threaten us, and implore us, and we them.'

There's something quite appealing in the idea that we should make do with what we have, with what we are; gratitude for the time we have. The idea of perfection on the other hand...there's something fanatical about it. Not just the religious zealots and settlers, the moral brigade and inveterate do-gooders, but a certain kind of academic, too: like a man who walks alone, and in the dark. If things aren't perfect then does it follow that the world must be a dark place indeed?

Always been sceptical of people who try to paint a picture of modern society as somehow angst-ridden, full of existential doubt, plagued by meaningless desires, etc., etc. Modern-day gnostics, really. A leap out of the mechanical world into faith. Isaiah Berlin was right here: two extravagances: to include only reason; to exclude reason.

You read a silly quote today: all progress comes from the unreasonable man. I'm sure that appeals to a certain temperament, or is popular amongst undergrads., but it comes across as childish and naive. Much prefer, this lazy Sunday morning-even without my coffee!-these words:

We seek other conditions because we do not understand the use of our own, and go outside of ourselves because we do not know what it is like inside.