Again. When we translate the language of common life into the dialect of the learned, there is danger that we may fall into the error of supposing that we are adding to our knowledge, even though we are doing nothing save to exchange one set of words for another. Thus, we all know very well that one mind can communicate with another. One does not have to be a scholar to be aware of this. If we choose to call this "intersubjective intercourse," we have given the thing a sounding name; but we know no more about it than we did before. The problem of the relation between minds, and the way in which they are to be conceived as influencing each other, remains just what it was. So, also, we recognize the everyday fact that we know both ourselves and what is not ourselves. Shall we call this knowledge of something not ourselves "self-transcendence"? We may do so if we wish, but we ought to realize that this bestowal of a title makes no whit clearer what is meant by knowledge. Unhappily, men too often believe that, when they have come into the possession of a new word or phrase, they have gained a new thought. The danger is great in proportion to the breadth of the gulf which separates the new dialect from the old language of common life in which we are accustomed to estimate things. Many a philosopher would be bereft, indeed, were he robbed of his vocabulary and compelled to express his thoughts in ordinary speech. The theories which are implicit in certain recurring expressions would be forced to come out into the open, and stand criticism without disguise. But can one write philosophical books without using words which are not in common use among the unphilosophic? I doubt it. Some such words it seems impossible to avoid. However, it does seem possible to bear in mind the dangers of a special philosophical terminology and to reduce such words to a minimum. Finally, we may appeal to the humanity of the philosopher. The path to reflection is a sufficiently difficult one as it is; why should he roll rocks upon it and compel those who come after him to climb over them? If truths are no truer for being expressed in a repellent form, why should he trick them out in a fantastic garb? What we want is the naked truth, and we lose time and patience in freeing our mummy from the wrappings in which learned men have seen fit to encase it. 93. DO NOT HASTILY ACCEPT A DOCTRINE.--This brings me to the last of the maxims which I urge upon the attention of the reader. All that has been said so far may be regarded as leading up to it.