Proof-text:
It is related, that Stefan Banach (on whom be peace) did one day go strolling along the Kurfürstendamm, when, rounding the corner of a cigar-shop, he espied a rather raggedy subaltern sort of angel, squatting on the sidewalk, a tin cup outstretched. “A penny for the —“
Whereupon the noble Banach, drawing himself up to his full height, did remonstrate:
”Wherefore dost thou, of the angelic kind, come hither begging of us, the dust-covered sod-saddened Sons of Men?!?”
”Wherefore dost thou, of the angelic kind, come hither begging of us, the dust-covered sod-saddened Sons of Men?!?”
Whereat the angel made retort:
”Imagine how much greatly harder it is for ús, who are that much more closer to Hím, we who thus feel, the much more quadratically stronger, the tug of attraction, and yet – like thee -- are never suffered to blend with the Presence…”
”Imagine how much greatly harder it is for ús, who are that much more closer to Hím, we who thus feel, the much more quadratically stronger, the tug of attraction, and yet – like thee -- are never suffered to blend with the Presence…”
Whereupon Dr. Banach, considering a bit, did toss a pfennig into the cup.
Commentary:
From a purely empirical standpoint, the story is apocryphal: Professor Banach never so much as vísited Berlin. Yet in view of certain strange and apparently inexplicable occurrences, that only last Wednesday happened to ourselves, we ---
[Ed.: Here the narrative breaks off.]
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