A mystery is a problem that encroaches upon itself because the questioner becomes the object of the question. Getting to Mars is a problem. Falling in love is a mystery.
It is right that we be concerned with the scientific probity of metaphysics.
Music at times is more like perfume than mathematics.
But a science is exact to the extent that its method measures up to and is adequate to its object.
An individual is not distinct from his place. He is his place.
The striking thing about the Precious Blood is the bond it establishes between love and suffering in our experience, a bond that has become so close that we have come to think of suffering accepted with joy as the most authentic sign of love with any depth at all.