from his fellows.

We know then, or we may know, the point of departure from which
we each start towards the usual level of understanding; but who
knows the other extreme? Each progresses more or less according to
his genius, his taste, his needs, his talents, his zeal, and his
opportunities for using them. No philosopher, so far as I know,
has dared to say to man, "Thus far shalt thou go and no further."
We know not what nature allows us to be, none of us has measured
the possible difference between man and man. Is there a mind so
dead that this thought has never kindled it, that has never said
in his pride, "How much have I already done, how much more may I
achieve? Why should I lag behind my fellows?"

As I said before, man's education begins at birth; before he can
speak or understand he is learning. Experience precedes instruction;
when he recognises his nurse he has learnt much. The knowledge
of the most ignorant man would surprise us if we had followed his
course from birth to the present time. If all human knowledge were
divided into two parts, one common to all, the other peculiar to
the learned, the latter would seem very small compared with the
former. But we scarcely heed this general experience, because
it is acquired before the age of reason. Moreover, knowledge only
attracts attention by its rarity, as in algebraic equations common
factors count for nothing. Even animals learn much. They have
senses and must learn to use them; they have needs, they must learn
to satisfy them; they must learn to eat, walk, or fly. Quadrupeds
which can stand on their feet from the first cannot walk for all
that; from their first attempts it is clear that they lack confidence.
Canaries who escape from their cage are unable to fly, having never