Now, if we had a circulating medium you would express the exact state of
your desires somewhat in this way: "Here is my moral dollar. I think I
will take a quarter's worth of Socialism, and twelve and a half cents'
worth of old-time Republicanism, and twelve and a half cents of genuine
Jeffersonian democracy, if there is any left, and a quarter's worth of
miscellaneous insurgency. Let me see, I have a quarter left. Perhaps I
may drop in to-morrow and see if you have anything more that I want."

The sad state of my good friend Bagster arises from the fact that he
can't do one good thing without being confused by a dozen other things
which are equally good. He feels that he is a miserable sinner because
his moral dollar is not enough to pay the national debt.

But though we have not yet been able adequately to extend the notion of
money to the affairs of the higher life, there have been those who have
worked on the problem.

That was what Socrates had in mind. The Sophists talked eloquently about
the Good, the True, and the Beautiful; but they dealt in these things in
the bulk. They had no way of dividing them into sizable pieces for
everyday use. Socrates set up in Athens as a broker in ideas. He dealt
on the curb. He measured one thing in terms of another, and tried to
supply a sufficient amount of change for those who were not ashamed to
engage in retail trade.

Socrates draws the attention of Phædrus to the fact that when we talk of
iron and silver the same objects are present to our minds, "but when any
one speaks of justice and goodness, there is every sort of disagreement,
and we are at odds with one another and with ourselves."