These are the essence of change.
One of the earliest notes I made,
when I began to make notes at all, I found not long
ago in an old book, since destroyed, which I had in
New Zealand. It was to the effect that all things
are either of the nature of a piece of string or a
knife. That is, they are either for bringing
and keeping things together, or for sending and keeping
them apart. Nevertheless each kind contains
a little of its opposite and some, as the railway
train and the hedge, combine many examples of both.
Thus the train, on the whole, is used for bringing
things together, but it is also used for sending them
apart, and its divisions into classes are alike for
separating and keeping together. The hedge is
also both for joining things (as a flock of sheep)
and for disjoining (as for keeping the sheep from
getting into corn). These are the more immediate
ends. The ulterior ends, both of train and hedge,
so far as we are concerned, and so far as anything
can have an end, are the bringing or helping to bring
meat or dairy produce into contact with man’s
inside, or wool on to his back, or that he may go
in comfort somewhere to converse with people and join
his soul on to theirs, or please himself by getting
something to come within the range of his senses or
imagination.
A piece of string is a thing that,
in the main, makes for togetheriness; whereas a knife
is, in the main, a thing that makes for splitty-uppiness;
still, there is an odour of togetheriness hanging
about a knife also, for it tends to bring potatoes
into a man’s stomach.
In high philosophy one should never
look at a knife without considering it also as a piece
of string, nor at a piece of string without considering
it also as a knife.