In his book Critique of Religion and Philosophy, Walter Kaufmann wrote:
Philosophic propositions mean more than they say, and the reader who reverences the proposition is always in danger of missing its meaning. The philosophic reader realizes the inadequacy of all propositions, their fragmentary character - and nevertheless takes them seriously as clues to the author's meaning. The esoteric meaning of philosophic propositions is revealed by their context. The unit of greatness in philosophy is never a proposition; rarely, it is a proof; a little more often, a refutation; usually, a book.
Much as I admire Kaufmann and his devotion to philosophy as a way of life, I must disagree with him here, for I hold that the unit of greatness in philosophy is not a book but a life.
(Yes, there are great books of speculative philosophy; but speculation - howsoever fascinating it may be - does not exist for its own sake, because it is subordinate to the practice of admirable and sagacious living. Indeed, whether you agree with them or not, some of the world's greatest philosophers and sages - Socrates, Confucius, Buddha, Pyrrho, Pythagoras, Jesus, Epictetus - wrote nothing at all; instead, the tales of what they said and did were written down by friends and disciples, who recognized the primacy of a life well lived.)
In a similar vein, Henry David Thoreau (born on this day in 1817) once wrote:
My life has been the poem I would have writ
But I could not both live and utter it.
The unit of greatness in philosophy is a life.
The realization is both inspiring and sobering...
(Cross-posted at Beautiful Wisdom.)
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