Aldous Huxley 1894-1963
When Huxley lectured to us Tools, three years of mortality remained to him. He passed, as I believe, into a state of far greater perceptual capability on 22 November 1963, but nobody much noticed, because that was also the day John F Kennedy died (C S Lewis, too: a wiser man than either, for my money).

He did pack Kresge, for all seven lectures. With many of my fellow Tools, I took in most of them in the comfort of my dorm room, either over WTBS or via the audio lines with which our Course VI folks had festooned the campus. I’m afraid I found his sections as unconvincing as his writings. He was addressing some central, crucial, and vital questions (among others of lesser salience), but the greatest of them seemed to be precisely those to which my faith had already provided entirely satisfactory answers. All of which is hardly Huxley’s fault, of course. But it does underscore an insight whose source I can’t now recall: we intellectuals seem close to perfecting the art of asking questions, but we have no idea what to do with an answer, when one stares us in the face.
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