The secret of the illusoriness is in the necessity of a succession of moods or objects. Gladly would we anchor, but the anchorage is quicksand… The child asks, “Mamma, why don’t I like the story as well as when you told it me yesterday?” Alas, child, it is so with the oldest cherubim of knowledge. But will it answer thy question to say, Because thou wert born to a whole, & this story is a particular? The reason of the pain this discovery causes us (& we make it late in respect to works of art & intellect), is the plaint of tragedy which murmurs from it in regard to persons, to friendship & love. – Emerson, Experience