Metavanity

In which Pascal, Kreeft, and Furth find themselves falling through an endless looking glass of vanities.

[Pascal:] Vanity is so firmly anchored in a man's heart that a soldier, a rough, a cook or a porter will boast and expect admirers, and even philosophers want them; those who write against them want to enjoy the prestige of having written well, those who read them want the prestige of having read themk, and perhaps I who write this want the same thing, perhaps my readers...

[Kreeft:] No escape! No exceptions.
Pascal too is sucked into the same syndrome he observes, by observing it only in order to be observed, read and praised.
So am I, who observe and write about hom.
So are you, who read us.

And am I, who blog them both.

To further demonstrate my vanity, I will recommend to you, vain reader, the book from which the above text is drawn, if only to point out obliquely that I am reading it. Said book is Kreeft's Christianity for Modern Pagans: Pascal's Pensees. But do not suppose yourself above vanity for not reading it: it is also vanity to think you are above this sort of vanity.