If the core of the soul is pure feeling, auto-affection, and everything else built on top of this by way of the primary distinctions it affords, then the fate of all this cognitive superstructure is to be reabsorbed, to have been nothing but a play of blind spirit. There is nothing implausible in this, and then the knowing self, the pure knowing, is only a sometimes achievement, an accidental transparency, not a goal in particular, but a possibility, rare and insignificant, a crystal grown on a happy flaw.