The deeper we get into reality, the more numerous will be the questions we cannot answer. For myself I cannot conceive truth, or rather reality, as a geometrical figure of luminous lines, within which is sheer truth, and outside of which is sheer error; but I have to conceive such reality as light, in its center blindingly luminous, having rings around it of lesser and lesser light, growing dimmer and dimmer until we are left in utter darkness. I cannot answer the endless questions naturally provoked by my positions; but this incapacity need not prove more than that I am a finite mind, and that, although other finite minds can and will correct its weaknesses and errors, and although the realm of light can and will be indefinitely enlarged, yet its borders will continue fringed – they will never be clear-cut frontiers. For reality is more than any and all our imaginings of it. It is more than truth; it overwhelms whilst it supports us; and it will have produced one of its chief functions and effects if it keeps us thoroughly humbled in its presence – from the presence of the daisy to the presence and reality of God.

A philosopher ponders the limits of human knowledge.