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Three Sketches,
Some Outlines And Additional Notes
Leonard
Feeney, S. J. Sheed
and Ward, 1939
Man: It is impossible to hold a conversation
with you. Angel: Why? Man: Why? Because I must do both the talking
and the answering. You never answer. Angel: That is not true. I
do answer. Man: I never hear you. Angel: Do you expect me to
make sounds? Man: A little sound wouldn’t hurt. Angel: But I am a pure
spirit. I have no dimensions, no body, no mouth, nor hands, nor any
instrument of noise. Do you want me to stop being an angel? Man: You might accommodate yourself to me as
a man. I have a body. I have ears. Angel: Why should I stay
outside your ears when I can go straight to your intellect? What good to
knock at a door which one can pass through? Man: It might let the occupant know that you
have arrived. Angel: In which case the
arrival would not be an angel. Man: But something very much more
satisfactory. Something one could see and feel and hear, not simply guess at,
as I am now doing with you. Angel: You will simply have
it that I must stop being an angel if I am to continue to exist. Is that not
it? Man: No, that’s not it. But why not
materialize, assume some shape, and appear to me? It would make this
conversation less nonsensical . . . Angel: And likewise very
much less angelical. An angel with a shape is a nonsense. Would you prefer to
know me as I am not, rather than to know me as I am? Man: But do I know you at all? Angel: You seem to know me
well enough to abuse me. I think maybe you do not like angels. Man: I must confess I find them very
tiresome. Angel: You mean you find
your own brain very tiresome, with all its convolutions, its water and its
pulp. I cannot be tiresome who am lighter even than your own thoughts. Man: Excuse me if I yawn (He yawns.) I
am no longer interested. I shall employ my poor soggy brain in thinking about
things I can feel and see. Angel: And will you find in
them any real satisfaction? Man: A certain satisfaction. That kind at
least which you are unable to give me. Angel: Would you like me to
go? Man: Nobody said, “Would you like me to go?”
I have just fancied that you said it. I simply supply you with words I think
you might say if I were sure you were here. Angel: But you are not sure? Man: No. Angel: You are not sure of
what God has revealed? Has He not promised to give me charge over you “lest
you dash your foot against a stone”? Man: I am quite unaware of any influences you
have upon my feet. Angel: Just at present I am
trying to keep you from dashing your head against a rock. Man: What do you mean? Angel: Would you not prefer
the impact of a rock upon your head to the soft fusion of your spirit with
mine? You have said as much. Man: I did not really mean to say you are not
here. I meant I do not know whether or not I am talking to you. God did not
say that every time I fancy myself talking to you I really am doing so. Angel: I should be a rather
poor Guardian Angel if I paid no attention to you precisely at the time when
you are paying attention to me, should I not? Man: Really, I cannot be bothered with this
subject any longer. It’s all too stupid. If you’re here, stay here. If you
know what I am saying to you, you are welcome to know it. But certainly I
have no way of knowing that you know it. Angel: Isn’t that rather
silly talk? Man: Now you can’t tell me that anybody said,
“Isn’t that rather silly talk?” Nobody said it. I just made it up in my own
mind, and in writing it down I am supposing myself to have supposed what you
might possibly have said if you were aware of what I am thinking. Angel: You have to become
very involved in order to get rid of me, don’t you? You have to take refuge
in a muddled, complex sentence. Angels detest complexity. Man: What do they like, then? Angel: Simplicity. Man: Well then, very simply: Am I thinking
about you? Angel: If not, what are you
thinking of? Man: A possible angel who may or may not be
present to me. Angel: But God has said
there is a real angel where you suppose the possible one to be. Man: But not that the real angel knows that I
am thinking about him. Angel: What do you think
that I think you are thinking about? Man: I do not know. Angel: Oh, I see. So we may
put it this way: I, who am always thinking about you, do not know when you
are thinking about me. Man: No, I admit that you know that I am
thinking about you. Angel: But you did not say
that before. Or rather, you said it, and then retracted it. Man: Well, now I admit it. But this is what I
do not admit. I do not admit that we are holding a conversation. Angel: Because I make no
sounds in your ears? Man: Don’t you see what I mean? I grant you
that being an angel, you are not supposed to make sounds. But a soundless
conversation from my side is quite impossible. Angel: And so you can never
hold a conversation with an angel unless he becomes a man? Man: We are certainly not holding a
conversation! Angel: What are we holding? Man: We are holding a monologue. Angel: How can two persons
hold a monologue? Man: How can one person hold a conversation? Angel: How can WE be ONE
person? Man: But is there a you? Angel: You have already
admitted that. Man: But I have not admitted . . . Angel: What have you not
admitted? Man: I have not admitted . . . just
a minute and I shall tell you what I have not admitted . . . I have
not admitted that the you to whom I am attributing the thoughts I am thinking
you are thinking, are really thinking the thoughts I am thinking you are
thinking. Angel: Involved, again, I
see! Worse than before! Man: That last sentence of mine may be a bit
involved, but it is unanswerable. Angel: Naturally, I cannot
answer it if you are unwilling to admit that the answer you suppose I am
answering is really the answer you suppose I am answering. Now, how do you
like me in an involved sentence? Let me hear you answer that? Man: Who is the one who is talking to me when
I suppose you are talking to me? Angel: Whom do you think? Man: Nobody. Angel: Can nobody talk to
somebody? Man: But somebody can talk to himself. That’s
what I am doing, I am talking to myself. Angel: It took you a long
time to find that out. Man: It wouldn’t have, if you hadn’t
interfered. Angel: I interfered? That’s
splendid! Man: I mean unless I were fool enough to
imagine that you were interfering. Angel: Isn’t it marvelous
what trouble this imaginary angel is causing you? Man: Yes, it is. Angel: It’s hard to see how
a real angel could be more bothersome, isn’t it? Man: Of course, I’m causing myself all the
bother. Angel: Are you both angel
and man, to say that you can fight yourself this way? Man: No. But I am supplying you a part and
trying to imagine what you would say if you were saying anything. Angel: Are you sure I am
saying nothing? Man: Well, for goodness’ sake, this is a
make-believe story! You certainly are not writing the script for your own
part, are you? Angel: Naturally, I cannot
write. Man: Nor are you thinking it. Angel: No? Man: You can’t be thinking what I am
thinking. Angel: You don’t say? Man: Well, you certainly are not my
intellect. Angel: Are you thinking your
own intellect? Man: No, but I am thinking thoughts with my
own intellect. Angel: About me. Man: But you are not those thoughts! Angel: I am the object of
them. Man: But you don’t cause them! Angel: Every object causes
the thought of it in some way. But let’s not go into that. Can you think of
nothing in a thought? Man: I can have a sort of a thought about
nothing. Angel: And am I that
nothing? Man: In the way I am thinking about you, you
are. Angel: Then why are you so
exasperated at me if I am nothing? Man: I am exasperated at my own idea of the
nothing I conceive you to be. Angel: But conceived as
nothing, I am not the angel God sent to guide you. Man: No, the angel God sent to guide me is
real, but the angel with whom I am holding this conversation is an imaginary angel
to whom I am attributing thoughts of my own. Angel: But you began this
conversation by wanting an imaginary angel to materialize and make sounds.
That’s even worse than wanting a real angel to do so. Man: I admit there were certain
inconsistencies on my part in the beginning of this conversation. Angel: And the imaginary
angel cleared them up for you? Man: I cleared them up for myself. Angel: Really, you seem to
be a better angel, when you play the part of an angel, than I am. Man: I think that’s true. Angel: My dear man! My dear
philosopher! Man: Now I know that you are not a real angel
. . . Angel: My dear child! Man: Now I know that you are! |