"All knowledge, we find, must be build up upon our instictive beliefs, and if these are rejected, nothing is left. But among our instinctive beliefs some are much stronger than others, while many have, by habit and association, become entangled with other beliefs, not really instinctive, but falsely supposed to be part of what is believed instinctively.

Philosophy should show us the hierarchy of our instinctive beliefs, beginning with those we hold most strongly, and presenting each as much isolated and as free from irrelevant additions as possible. It should take care to show that, in the form in which they are finally set forth, our instinctive beliefs do not clash, but form a harmonious system. There can never be any reason for rejecting one instinctive belief except that it clashes with others; thus, if they are found to harmonize, the whole system becomes worthy of acceptance.

It is of course possible that all or any of our beliefs may be mistaken, and therefore all ought to be held with at least some slight element of doubt. But we cannot have reason to reject a belief except on the ground of some other belief. Hence, by organizing our instinctive beliefs and their consequences, by considering which among them is most possible, if necessary, to modify or abandon, we can arrive, on the basis of accepting as our sole data what we instinctively believe, at an orderly systematic organization of our knowledge, in which, though the possibility of error remains, its likelihood is diminished by the interrelation of the parts and by the critical scrutiny which has preceded acquiescence.

This function, at least, philosophy can perform. Most philosopher, rightly or wrongly, believe that philosophy can do much more than this - that it can give us knowledge, not otherwise attainable, concerning the universe as a whole, and concerning the nature of ultimate reality. Whether this be the case or not, the more modest function we have spoken of can certainly be performed by philosophy, and certainly suffices, for those who have once begun to doubt the adequacy of common sense, to justify the arduous and difficult labours that philosophical problems involve."

Bertrand Russell. The Problems of Philosophy. Chapter 2: The Existence of Matter. p.25-26.

Grucha Vachnadze, agachada à beira do rio meio gelado, colhe água nas mãos para dar ao menino.

GRUCHA <canta>

Já que em ninguém encontraste
Coração amigo,
Tens que, à falta de outro amparo,
Te arranjar comigo.

Porque, ao peito carregando-te,
Dias e dias, nas pedras
Da estrada os pés me feri,
Porque o leite era tão caro,
Fiquei gostando de ti,
Não posso passar sem ti.
Tira a camisinha fina,
Veste este trapo, lavar
Te vou e te batizar
Na água gelada do rio,
Meu lindo! Tens que aguentar.

(BRECHT. O círculo de giz causasiano. Cosac Naify, 2010. p. 98)

RECITANTE

Estando ela entre uma porta e outra, ouviu
Ou julgou ouvir um fraco apelo: o menino
Chamava-a, não choramingava, chamava-a inteligentemente,
Pelo menos assim lhe parecia. "Mulher", dizia ele, "socorre-me".
E prosseguiu, não choramingava, falava inteligentemente:
"Sabe, mulher, quem ouve um grito de socorro
E faz ouvidos moucos e passa: nunca mais
Ouvirá o doce apelo de seu amado,
Nem o canto de melro na madrugada, nem o delicado
Suspiro dos vindimadores exaustos às "Aves-Marias".

(BRECHT. O círculo de giz causasiano. Cosac Naify, 2010. p. 74)