This is above all a practical book. It discusses with a wealth of illustration and insight such subjects as the organization of the intellectual worker's time, materials, and his life; the integration of knowledge and the relation of one's specialty to general knowledge; the choice and use of reading; the discipline of memory; the taking of notes, their classification and use; and the preparation and organization of the final production.

The Universe We Think In arises from a tradition of realism, both philosophical and political, a universe in which the common sense understanding of things is included in our judgement about them. The scope is both vast and narrow - vast because it is aware of the reality of things, narrow because it is the individual person who can and wants to know them. The abiding undercurrent of this book is that the cosmos, the universe, does not look at us human beings, but we look at it, seek to understand it, and do understand much of it. Why is this so? The book seeks to begin with the basic question that we each ought to pose to ourselves; namely: "Why do I exist?" Nothing is more immediate than the relation of what is not ourselves to ourselves. We have the strange experience that we cannot even `know ourselves' unless we know something that is not ourselves. In a sense, we have two related worlds, the one that exists, a universe, as it were, that includes each of us, and the same world that we think about. What is so striking about our personal existence is that we can know what is not ourselves. Indeed, we not only want to know what is not ourselves, but this knowledge of what is not ourselves is also, in part, the reason for our existence in the first place. Our thinking about the world is not unrelated to the world that is. Yet, once we understand what is in the world, both systematically and casually, we find ourselves free in a world of others who also think and communicate with one another. Thus, to know ourselves includes knowing what is not ourselves in its own diversity. Ultimately, we seek to know why it all is rather than is not, why it all belongs together in the same universe.

As John Henry Newman reflected on 'The Idea of a University' more than a century and a half ago, Bradley C. S. Watson brings together some of the nation's most eminent thinkers on higher education to reflect on the nature and purposes of the American university today. They detail the life and rather sad times of the American university, its relationship to democracy, and the place of the liberal arts within it. Their mordant reflections paint a picture of the American university in crisis. But they also point toward a renewal of the university by redirecting it toward those things that resist the passions of the moment, or the pull of mere utility. This book is essential reading for thoughtful citizens, scholars, and educational policymakers.

The year 2015 marks the fifteenth anniversary of Thomas More's becoming Patron Saint of Statesmen and Politicians. Yet during these years no serious answer has been given by a community of scholars as to why More would be the choice of over 40,000 leaders from ninety-five countries. What were More's guiding principles of leadership and in what ways might they remain applicable? This collection of essays addresses these questions by investigating More through his writings, his political actions, and in recent artistic depictions.

In Roman Catholic Political Philosophy author James V. Schall tries to demonstrate that Roman Catholicism and political philosophy--revelation and reason-are not contradictory. It is his contention that political philosophy, the primary focus of the book, asks certain questions about human purpose and destiny that it cannot, by itself, answer. Revelation is the natural complement to these important questions about God, human being, and the world. Schall manages to avoid polemicism or triumphalism as he shows that revelation and political thought contribute to a fuller understanding of each other.

In Roman Catholic Political Philosophy author James V. Schall tries to demonstrate that Roman Catholicism and political philosophy---revelation and reason--are not contradictory. It is his contention that political philosophy, the primary focus of the book, asks certain questions about human purpose and destiny that it cannot, by itself, answer. Revelation is the natural complement to these important questions about God, human being, and the world. Schall manages to avoid polemicism or triumphalism as he shows that revelation and political thought contribute to a fuller understanding of each other.

The engaging and inquiring mind of French philosopher Jacques Maritain reflected on subjects as varied as art and ethics, theology and psychology, and history and metaphysics. Maritain's work on the theoretical groundings of politics arose from his diverse studies. In this book, distinguished theologian and political scientist James V. Schall explores Maritain's political philosophy, demonstrating that Maritain understood society, state, and government in the tradition of Aristotle and Aquinas, of natural law and human rights and duties. Schall pays particular attention to the ways in which evil appears in political forms, and how this evil can be morally dealt with. Schall's study will be of great importance to students and scholars of political science, philosophy, and theology.

Using Josef Pieper's Leisure as a point of departure, the contributors to this volume share a mutual concern for the diminishing role of the liberal arts in Catholic higher education. The overwhelming impression they share is that U.S. Catholic universities, with notable exceptions, have forgotten the very goal of university education, and especially Catholic university education: to aid in forming young men and women to pursue the truth and helping them to become freer persons.

To the ears of ceaselessly busy and ambitious modern Westerners, it will come as a shock, and perhaps as an insult, to be told that human affairs are "unserious." But this fundamental truth is exactly what James Schall, following Plato, has to teach us in this wise and witty book. Schall cites Charlie Brown, Aristotle, and Samuel Johnson with the same sobriety the sobriety that sees the truth in what is delightful and even amusing. Singing, dancing, playing, contemplating, and other "useless" human activities are not merely forms of escape from more important things politics, work, social activism, etc. but an indication of the very nature of the highest things themselves. On the Unseriousness of Human Affairs is an instructive volume whose countercultural message is of vital importance.

What is real and what is noble, as well as what is deranged and wrong, can often be stated briefly. Nietzsche was famous for his succinct aphorisms and epigrams. Aquinas in one of his responses could manage to state clearly what he held to be true. Ultimately, all of our thought needs to be so refined and concentrated that we can see the point. So these are "brief" essays and they are largely of a philosophical "hue." They touch on things worth thinking about. Indeed, often they consider things we really need to think about if our lives are to make sense. The advantage of a collection of essays is that it is free to talk about many things. It can speak of them in a learned way or in an amused and humorous way. As Chesterton said, there is no necessary conflict between what is true and what is funny. Oftentimes, the greatest things we learn are through laughter, even laughter at ourselves and our own foibles and faults. So these essays are "brief." And they are largely of philosophical import. At first sight, taxing beer may seem to have no serious principle, except perhaps for the brewer and the consumer. But wherever there is reality, we can find something to learn. Each of these essays begins with the proposition "on"-this is a classical form of essay in the English language. Belloc, one the essay's greatest masters, wrote a book simply entitled "ON"-and several other books with that introductory "ON" to begin it. The word has the advantage of focusing our attention on some idea, place, book, person, or reality that we happen to come across and notice, then notice again, then wonder about. These essays are relatively short, often lightsome, hopefully always with a consideration that illumines the world through the mind of the reader. These essays are written in the spirit that the things we encounter provoke us, our minds. We need to come to terms, to understand what we come across in our pathways through this world. Often the best way to know what we observe or confront is to write about it, preferably briefly and with some philosophical insight. This is what we do here.

James V. Schall is a treasure of the Catholic intellectual tradition. A prolific author and essayist, Schall readily connects with his readers on sundry topics from war to friendship, philosophy, politics, and to ordinary everyday living. In his newest work, ""The Mind That Is Catholic"", he presents a retrospective collection of his academic and literary essays written in the past fifty years. In each essay, he exemplifies the Catholic mind at its best - seeing the whole, leaving nothing out.The 'Catholic mind' seeks to recognize a consistent and coherent relation between the solid things of reason and the definite facts of revelation. Its thought aims to understand how they belong together in a fruitful manner, each profiting from the other; each being what it is. The Catholic mind is not a confusion of disparate sources. It respects and makes distinctions. It sees where things separate. It is in fact delighted by what is.This delightful book is not polemical, but contemplative in mood. Schall shares with readers a mind that is constantly struck by how things fit together when seen in full light. He brings to his work a lifetime of study in political philosophy, a wide-ranging discipline that, in many ways, is the most immediate context in which reason and revelation meet. ""The Mind That Is Catholic"" respects what can be known by faith alone. But it also considers what is known by faith to be itself intelligible to a mind actively thinking on political and philosophical things. The whole, at the risk of its own contradiction, does not exclude the intelligibility of what is revealed.

Gilbert Keith Chesterton (1874-1936) was one of the most original minds of the twentieth century. He was a gifted journalist, essayist, biographer, poet, novelist, playwright, philosopher, debater, and defender of common sense, of Christianity, and of the Catholic faith. He was truly an influential man of his time, writing thousands of essays and hundreds of books. Today he remains one of the best and most quoted writers of the English language. In this book of essays, Father James V. Schall, a prolific author himself and a prominent Catholic writer, brings readers to Chesterton through a witty series of original reflections prompted by something Chesterton wrote--timely essays on timeless issues. Like Chesterton, Schall consciously leads the reader to the reality of what is, of what is true and what is at the heart of things. It is a handbook of how to take up almost any essay or chapter or paragraph of Chesterton's many works and, upon further reflection, come to realize that he was a profoundly wise man who still teaches vividly and accurately a century after he wrote. Schall easily captures Chesterton's fondness of life and laughter, and at the same time, makes readers aware of Chesterton's extreme insight and rigorous understanding of ideas and truth. Included in this book is an introductory chapter on Chesterton as a "journalist," which is how he identified himself, and a concluding chapter that provides an extended reflection on Chesterton's world. Forty-one essays comprise the heart of the book. They range widely in subject matter, from the Catholic Church as the "natural home of the human spirit," through such topics as virtue and honor, horror and detective stories, toys and Christmas, right and wrong, to the shocking conclusion that indeed "dogmas are not dull." James V. Schall, S.J., is author of more than twenty books, hundreds of articles, and monthly columns in Gilbert! and Crisis. He is professor in the Department of Government at Georgetown University. His book At the Limits of Political Philosophy: From "Brilliant Errors" to Things of Uncommon Importance was published by CUA Press in 1996. PRAISE FOR THE BOOK: "Schall on Chesterton sends us rushing back to Chesterton's own writings with new insights and renewed enthusiasm. It is the guide to the twentieth century's wisest and most misunderstood prophet."--John Peterson, editor, Gilbert! "One of the great themes in Father Schall's book derives from his insistance that good literature provide a moral illumination for ordinary life. Because of the vast number of books and articles which Chesterton wrote, few people can claim and exhaustive knowledge of his writings. Father Schall is one of that small company. He shares with his hero something that Chesterton attributed to St. Thomas Aquinas--an intense interest in the significance of everyday existence, a quality which Chesterton called "a fury for life.' "--Rev. Ian Boyd, C.S.B., editor, The Chesterton Review "Who could be more appropriate to write about Chesterton than so subtle and prolific an essayist as Father James V. Schall? Like Chesterton, he is a skilled presenter of eternal truths."--Prof. John P. McCarthy, Fordham University "Father James Schall excels as an essayist whose critical discriminations and insights are invaluable to readers in search of literary and political and religious understanding of the more vexing problems of the modern world."--Prof. George A. Panichas, editor, Modern Age "This is a new book of essays about Chesterton, the master of the literary essay. And the author, James Schall, is himself a considerable essayist and author of several books. . . . L

How do politics and religion point to each other in a way that respects the integrity of both? Why are reason and revelation not in absolute opposition to each other? Political philosophy asks questions such as these that seem to call forth responses that do not come from politics alone. In seeking the answers, James V. Schall presents, in a convincing and articulate manner, the revelational contribution to political philosophy, particularly that which comes out of the Roman Catholic tradition. In At the Limits of Political Philosophy he fills the need for a sustained account of the higher reaches of political philosophy, where questions arising within the discipline bring it to its own limits. In the first section of the book, Schall points out what Leo Strauss called the "brilliant errors" that have arisen in the history of political philosophy and provides sober responses to those errors. He insists that neither the reality of evil nor the possibility of good within the city is completely explained within political philosophy, and he calls on political philosophy to acknowledge and respect its own boundaries. Schall maintains that a noncontradictory unity exists among three aspects of political philosophy - the problem of evil, the problem of virtue, and the problem of contemplation of the highest things. Thus in the second section of his book he moves to a discussion of "imperfect and dire conditions of human existence": death, evil, suffering, injustice, hell. He espouses a "political realism" that understands them to be permanent realities in this world, realities that cannot be eliminated by human means. The third section treats the death of Socrates, the death of Christ, and the reality and meaning of happiness and of virtue. Schall examines the two deaths to show how ultimate issues arise within particular political instances and how they lead people to ask those questions about happiness and virtue that reveal the higher calling of human life. He maintains that political philosophy cannot be consistent with itself and not think about these higher realities. Finally, Schall addresses science, law, and friendship, which raise questions of truth, good, and love that are not adequately understood if viewed only in their political contexts. These are ideas that point to the deepest meaning of human experience; their uncommon importance requires political philosophy to consider them.

The Latin word “Docilitas� in the title of this book means the willingness and capacity we have of being able to learn something we did not know. It has not the same connotation as “learning,� which is what happens to us when we are taught something. Docility also means our recognition that we do not know many things, that we need the help of others, wiser than we are, to learn most of what we know, though we can discover a few things by or own experience. This book contains some sixteen chapters, each of which was given to an audience in some college or university setting. They consider what it is to teach, what to read, reading places, libraries, and class rooms. They look upon the duties of a teacher or professor as mostly a delight, because the truth should delight us. In Another Sort of Learning, the subject of what a student “owes� his teacher came up. Here, we look at the other side of the question, what does a teacher or professor “do�? But a professor cannot teach unless there is someone willing to be taught, someone willing to recognize that he needs guidance and help. Yet, the end of teaching is not just the “transfer� of what is in the mind of the professor to the mind of the student. It is when both, student and teacher, behold, reflect on, and see the same truth of things that are. This common “seeing� is the read adventure in which student and teacher share something neither “owns.� Knowledge and truth are free, but each requires our different insights and approaches so that we can finally realize what “teaching� and “being taught� mean to us.

We have books that contain collected essays, verse, and humor. What we see less often are books that contain collected interviews on various topics. Interviews have a certain outside discipline about them. The one interviewed responds to a question someone else asks of him. Often the questions are unexpected, sometimes annoying. Answers have a freshness to them. They can be more personal, frank. The responses in At a Breezy Time of Day are occasioned when someone writes or phones with a request for an interview. There may be a common theme but often side questions come up. We are curious about what someone has to say - about sports, about God, about Plato, about education, about books, about just about anything. Usually central questions occur. The same question can be answered in different ways. We often have more to say on a given topic than we do say on our first being asked about it. These interviews appeared in various on-line and printed sources. Having them collected in one text makes the interview form itself seem more substantial. Interviews too often seem to be passing, ephemeral things, but often we want to hold on to them. There is something more existential about them. Yet there is also something more lightsome about them also. The truth of things seems more bearable when it is spoken, when it has a human voice. So, as the title of this collection intimates, we begin with the very first interview in the Garden of Eden. We touch many places and issues. The interview always has somewhere even in its written form the touch of the human voice. The one who interviews invites us to speak, to tell us what we hold, why we hold it. Interviews are themselves part of that engagement in conversation that defines our kind in its search for a full knowledge of what is. We know that when we have said the last word, much remains to be said. We can rejoice both in what we know, and in what we know that we do not know. I believe it was Socrates who, in an earlier form of interview at the end of The Apology, alerted us to be aware of what we know and to await the many other interviews that we hope to carry on with so many others of our kind in the Isles of the Blessed.

What Does "Academic" Mean? focuses, in two essays, on the prospects of contemporary universities. The term "academic" is traced back to Plato's Academy in a grove in Athens. The Academy is isolated, far away from the hustle and bustle of the city. Western universities founded in the Middle Ages show continuity, via Byzantium, with Plato's Academy. Not surprisingly, the Oxford Dictionary quoted by Pieper defines "academic" as "Not leading to a decision; unpractical." The preoccupation of the academic as academic is seen by Pieper to be fundamentally theoretical, not practical. Pure theory is that which cannot at all be pressed into service. Clearly, many university disciplines that are richly funded by industry and business concerns tend to be favored by university administrations, which, intent on financial survival, frown on "unproductive" disciplines such as pure philosophy: metaphysics being a case in point, since it is the discipline least capable of practical application. Pure philosophy, unlike any other discipline, has as its "subject" the totality of being. Every other discipline deals with a particular aspect of being - for example, the physical, the psychological, the technical - but not the totality. For Pieper, spirit is that which makes us open to truth - all truth - without any need to exploit it in the concrete world. The sciences open up more and more access to reality, more and more for us to contemplate. They show us more of the totality, but none of the sciences is interested in the totality as such. The philosophy which deals with the totality and asks, with Alfred North Whitehead, "What is it all about?" is seen by Pieper as central to the university. Essentially, it contemplates the wonder of being.

Josef Pieper's The Platonic Myths is the work of a scholar and philosopher whose search for the level of truth contained in the myths is carried out with a series of careful distinctions between the kinds of myths told by Plato. In the Platonic stories Plato crystallizes mythical fragments from the mere stories which contain them, and in the genuine Platonic myths he purifies the proper mythical elements, freeing them of the non-mythical elements which tend to obscure them. In examining the 'accepted' scholarly interpretations of the myths, Pieper succeeds in establishing the case for a truth, found particularly in the eschatological myths, that is not reducible to the rational truth normally sought by philosophers. While it is not purely rational truth, it is not inferior. It is different. It stems from tradition, which reaches back to the ultimate beginnings of man's existence - back into our pre-history and to events of which, naturally, we have no experience. The only access we have to this truth is through 'hearing' (ex akoes), which is not dependent on mere 'hearsay,' but which, in Pieper's interpretation, reflects the handing on, in stories, of what the gods first communicated to man about the creation of the world and about the afterlife. These truths are to be found - long before the New Testament (or even the Old Testament) - in the myths of a variety of civilizations and give evidence of an extraordinary consensus: that there was a creating hand, that primeval man incurred guilt in the eyes of the gods; that he could be saved; that there is an afterlife in which man is rewarded or punished; that he can undergo a kind of purgatory for lesser offenses; and that in the afterlife he can dwell with the gods. What is the basis for accepting such truth as is contained in the myths? No purely rational argument will suffice. What man cannot experience himself he either tends to reject or, if he accepts it, he does so on the authority of another - ex akoes. Even before - or even without - Christian revelation, men have based their lives on a conviction, for instance, that there is an afterlife. They have this conviction not from experience or from some rational philosophical argument. They have it on the basis of 'belief.' With the coming of Christian revelation, the logos, or word, of the myth is seen - to the believer - to be the Logos of the New Testament. But even here the 'believer' can depend neither on purely rational argument nor on satisfactorily verifiable fact. He has only - belief.

Hilaire Belloc was a man of many parts. Half English, half French, with an American wife, Belloc was a man who thought and traveled widely. He was the best essayist in the English language. His historical studies covered much of European history. He wrote a book on America, another on Paris, another on the Servile State. He sailed his boat The Nona around England and into the Island of Patmos. He walked to Rome and, with his four companions, through Sussex. While he did so, he thought, reflected, laughed, wondered. He was a born Catholic. He saw the depths of European civilization in its classical and Christian heritage, as well as in their being lost. Bellow saw Islam as an abiding power. His books on walking are classic. He walked much of Europe, England, France, Italy, Spain, and North Africa. His insight into people was extraordinary. He wrote verses for children, poetry, studies of English kings and French cardinals. He was prolific. He had a son killed in World War I and another in World War II. He had many friends; his friendships with Chesterton and Baring were lasting and profound. When we "remember" Belloc, we remember much of what we are, much of what we ought to be. Belloc was something of a sad man, yet he laughed and sang and was in many ways irrepressible. Reading Belloc is both a delight and an education. He belonged to a tradition of letters that was never narrow but knew that to see something small, one had to see the whole picture, both human and divine. We remember Belloc to find out who we are and who we ought to be - men who sing and laugh and wonder about the mystery of things given to us.

The essay is one of the great inventions of the human mind. It can talk about anything and everything. It can be lightsome or solemn. It can be witty or informative. Above all, it is short. It likes the passage in which Socrates told Callicles in the Gorgias to make his answers brief. Yet, we can find in essays things we need and want to know. Aquinas often managed to make the most profound arguments in two paragraphs. Samuel Johnson did the same. The Classical Moment is, indeed, a collection of "selected essays." Such a collection is a classical and beloved form of English letters, the literary form most preferred by Schall. The essays in this book all touch on knowledge and its pleasures. Schall does not tarry on the effort and determination it often takes to say just what we want to say, then say it and know that we have said it. Somehow, when an essay is written, an author simply knows that it is complete, that it is what he wanted to say. He says to himself, "Yes, that is it." An essayist may well be conscious that when he begins an essay, he really does not know what he will finally say. The writing is the saying. Our writing is our thinking, our thinking-through, our being pleased to know this is it . . . this is the point Schall, one of America's greatest essayists, makes here. The "classical moment" is that intense experience of seeing or hearing or encountering some vista, or song, or person that takes us out of ourselves. We are most ourselves somehow when we are most outside of ourselves, seeing what is not ourselves. We are intended to be more than ourselves in being ourselves, to know with others what is the truth, to know what is. These essays originally appeared in regular columns done in various journals, papers, and on-line sources. One can read them in any order. The order of the author or collector does have a certain "logic," but each essay is also a whole, something contained within itself. The unity of an essay collection is found more in a kind enthrallment that comes to us when we deal with the things that are both important and delightful. At bottom, these essays belong together. Aristotle warned us that if we did not delight in the things that are, we would seek our highest pleasures where they are not really found. We will always seek something to delight in. What civilization is about lies in finding what is really worthy of the capacity of delight that is given to us in our being. The "classical moment" is the perfect phrase that brings us to the threshold of this experience. We have to enter it ourselves, but once inside, we will find so much more than ourselves. And we will rejoice.