just to pinch the loaf of that thought

The rationalist sits athrone and stirs a regal rod into the lapping flow of nonsense, feeling, and poor thought beneath. Reason feels aright with itself, secretly offers thanks for this blessed sea of watery enemies. But then comes the empiricist, in his imperial craft astride the sea, borne by it yet not of it - and the rationalist shakes in fear, from crown to boots.