The value of technical expressions in the special sciences must be conceded.  They are supposed to be more exact and less ambiguous than terms in ordinary use, and they mark an advance in our knowledge of the subject.  The distinctions which they indicate have been carefully drawn, and appear to be of such authority that they should be generally accepted.  Sometimes, as, for example, in mathematics, a conventional set of symbols may quite usurp the function of ordinary language, and may enormously curtail the labor of setting forth the processes and results of investigation.

But we must never forget that we have not in philosophy an authoritative body of truth which we have the right to impose upon all who enter that field.  A multitude of distinctions have been made and are made; but the representatives of different schools of thought are not at one touching the value and significance of these distinctions.  If we coin a word or a phrase to mark such, there is some danger that we fall into the habit of using such words or phrases, as we use the coins in our purse, without closely examining them, and with the ready assumption that they must pass current everywhere.

Thus, there is always a possibility that our technical expressions may be nothing less than crystallized error.  Against this we should surely be on our guard.

Again.  When we translate the language of common life into the dialect of the learned, there is danger that we may fall into the error of supposing that we are adding to our knowledge, even though we are doing nothing save to exchange one set of words for another.  Thus, we all know very well that one mind can communicate with another.  One does not have to be a scholar to be aware of this.  If we choose to call this “intersubjective intercourse,” we have given the thing a sounding name; but we know no more about it than we did before.  The problem of the relation between minds, and the way in which they are to be conceived as influencing each other, remains just what it was.  So, also, we recognize the everyday fact that we know both ourselves and what is not ourselves.  Shall we call this knowledge of something not ourselves “self-transcendence”?  We may do so if we wish, but we ought to realize that this bestowal of a title makes no whit clearer what is meant by knowledge.

Unhappily, men too often believe that, when they have come into the possession of a new word or phrase, they have gained a new thought.  The danger is great in proportion to the breadth of the gulf which separates the new dialect from the old language of common life in which we are accustomed to estimate things.  Many a philosopher would be bereft, indeed, were he robbed of his vocabulary and compelled to express his thoughts in ordinary speech.  The theories which are implicit in certain recurring expressions would be forced to come out into the open, and stand criticism without disguise.