Philosophy (n.) is a string of little cries, says Anatole France — and no fear that it will teach us so much about the universe that we cannot bear to live in it.
Philosophy (n.) hangs with lame wings on a few primordial figures of speech, beyond whose simple grandeur no thought can fly.
Philosophy (n.) that is not mere history of philosophy rests on a personal psychological premise — and it finds followers because that premise is a type shared by many.
Philosophy (n.) is the handmaid of psychology, and so is theology — its statements, in the end, symptoms of psychic conditions.
Philosophy (n.) is a psychic activity, so psychology must debouch into it: beneath all philosophies and religions lie the facts of the human soul, which may in the end be the arbiters of truth and error.
Philosophy (n.) is no longer a way of life, as in antiquity, but an exclusively intellectual and academic exercise.
Philosophy (n.) butters no parsnips: the reality of good and evil is in situations too big for you, where you are always as if facing death.
Philosophy (n.) wants intellectual free play undisturbed by moral entanglement — which is why Buddha, who challenges man, does not count as a proper philosophy.