The more persisting condition, however, — the blueness of months, in which anything from shoe-buttons to hair fillet, from the morning kiss to the struggle in the world's arena, from the half satisfactory day's work to the dreaded night of unsleep, is colored —is not so readily elucidated or relieved; and it certainly leaves the sufferer, not elated, but genrally apprehensive of future attackes.

Also values and policies seem to be implicit or rootable in such facts.

A ſhadie groue not farr away they ſpide, / That promiſt ayde the tempeſt to withſtand: / Whoſe loftie trees yclad with ſommers pride, / Did ſpred ſo broad, that heauens light did hide, / Not perceable with power of any ſtarr:

There is nothing more expressive of a barbarous and stupid lack of culture than the half-unconscious attitude so many of us slip into, of taking for granted, when we see weak, neurotic, helpless, drifting, unhappy people, that it is by reason of some special merit in us or by reason of some especial favour towards us that the gods have given us an advantage over such persons.