The chemical analysis is just a farce, and my father and mother were just vehicles.

And yet, I must say, since I've got to know about the two cells, I'm glad I do know.
The Moses of Science and the Aaron of Idealism have got the whole bunch of us here on top of Pisgah.

It's a tight squeeze, and we'll be falling very, very foul of one another in five minutes, unless some of us climb down.

But before leaving our eminence let us have a look round, and get our bearings.
They say that way lies the New Jerusalem of universal love: and over there the happy valley of indulgent Pragmatism: and there, quite near, is the chirpy land of the Vitalists: and in those dark groves the home of successful Analysis, surnamed Psycho: and over those blue hills the Supermen are prancing about, though you can't see them.

And there is Besantheim, and there is Eddyhowe, and there, on that queer little tableland, is Wilsonia, and just round the corner is Rabindranathopolis....
But Lord, I can't see anything.