There are known knowns.
I know that I know nothing.
We are unknown to ourselves, we men of knowledge.
There are known unknowns.
But there are also unknown unknowns.
And unknown knowns.
The disavowed beliefs, suppositions and obscene practices we pretend not to know about, even though they form the background of our public values.
The idea of a soul, or of that unknown something for which the word “soul” is our hieroglyphic, and the idea of living organism, unite so spontaneously, and stick together so inseparably, that no matter how often we sunder them they will elude our vigilance and come together, like true lovers, in spite of us. Let us not attempt to divorce ideas that have so long been wedded together.
Therefore good and ill are one.
There’s nothing either good nor bad, but thinking makes it so.
Well, um, you know, something’s neither good nor bad but thinking makes it so, I suppose, as Shakespeare said.
Biblioklept 