G.K. Chesterton, in his book, The Man Who Was Thursday, recounts a debate between two poets, Mr. Gregory and Mr. Syme. For sake of space we have paraphrased their dialogue. Mr. Gregory speaks:
"I will tell you why all the passengers in railroad trains look so sad and tired. It's because they know that whatever place they have taken a ticket for, that place they will reach. After they have passed Sloane Square, they know the next station will be Victoria, and nothing but Victoria. Oh, their wild rapture if the next station were unaccountably Baker Street."
Mr. Syme answers with equal conviction:
"If what you say is true, your passengers can only be as prosaic as your poetry. For the rare, strange thing is to hit the mark; the gross, obvious thing is to miss it. We feel it is epochal when a man with one arrow strikes a distant bird. Is it not also epochal when a man with one engine strikes a distant station?
"Chaos is dull; in chaos the train might go anywhere. The magic is this: the conductor ...
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