Bradley University - Anaga Yearbook (Peoria, IL)

Page 16 text:

ff 1' nf' 16 ' El' NEW FACES, EAGER MINDS, with hands upstretched. A formless, nameless multitude, awaiting that specialized stimu- lus: the individuality of education that will assure them identity.

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AND STILL THEY COME in lowing herds and still they seek the good life and the light and still they are our only hope for freedom and for truth. And still they come and still they seek and still they are and still their chairs stand empty. txiigswxww- , FROM THE DARK PAST of an ancient culture, purple eddies swirl and pulse with the tempo of our time, Sounds, like the cry of a steel machine in pain, from crest to precarious eight- bar crest moan in the night . . . as jazzmen ply their velvet trade. Progress is the label sometimes attached to change. From whimpering Dyropithicus erectus, crude club in hand, to modern Homo sap, progress has amounted to increasing the vocabulary and mod- ifying the cudgel. Our glass-housed selves, ve- neered with knowledge, are ill-equipped to cope with these baneful days, we are but social beasts, unfit to cast stones. Inert ideologies have castled progress. Education, of necessity, has thrust its emphasis on the answer, leaving the question suppressed, unchallenged and forgotten. Knowl- edge too, as an end in itself, seems to have fallen victim to a sort of pernicious dysentery, brought about by pragmatism and force-feeding dogma. Now, lest tomorrow refute our yesterdays, man's final insane cries will strangely resemble his first: 'C . . this is the way the world ends . . . 9

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R get 'Qi THE SEARING EYES OF THE SEARCHER, like a poised sculptor, intent on the still unmoulded mass. Hence, tl'ie com- mencement of an endless quest for Truth in ours, the limitless and undefined Cosmos of ldeas. THE DEEPE T IMENSIO A MA 'S MI D The psyche, that confused anthill of opposing predispositions, seems constantly seeking repose in selected fictions . . . illusions, still, necessary illusions of Truth, Goodness, and Beauty. These, the elements of our search, are the nature of what reality there is: Truth, sweet nectar of reason . . . to be sipped from time to time and allowed to dissolve in the mind, Good, the insuperable moral enigma, dwarfed only by the mountain of contradicting answers. And Beauty? The concep- tual poetry of metaphysics which draws men to the early morning hours. All these . . . the stuff of a 1nan's mind. 11