to act and to know that we are acting, to come into touch with reality and even to live in it, such is the function of intelligence. yet a beneficent fluid bathes us, whence we draw the very force to labor and to love. from this ocean of life, in which we are immersed, we are continually drawing something, and we feel that our being, or at least the intellect that guides it, has been formed therein by a kind of local concentration. philosophy can only be an effort to dissolve again into the whole. intelligence, reabsorbed into its principle, may thus live back again its own genesis.


henri bergson's creative evolution.