definite ideas, and from certain simple propositions (axioms) which,
in virtue of these ideas, we are inclined to accept as "true." Then,
on the basis of a logical process, the justification of which we feel
ourselves compelled to admit, all remaining propositions are shown to
follow from those axioms, i.e. they are proven. A proposition is then
correct ("true") when it has been derived in the recognised manner
from the axioms. The question of "truth" of the individual geometrical
propositions is thus reduced to one of the "truth" of the axioms. Now
it has long been known that the last question is not only unanswerable
by the methods of geometry, but that it is in itself entirely without
meaning. We cannot ask whether it is true that only one straight line
goes through two points. We can only say that Euclidean geometry deals
with things called "straight lines," to each of which is ascribed the
property of being uniquely determined by two points situated on it.
The concept "true" does not tally with the assertions of pure
geometry, because by the word "true" we are eventually in the habit of
designating always the correspondence with a "real" object; geometry,
however, is not concerned with the relation of the ideas involved in
it to objects of experience, but only with the logical connection of
these ideas among themselves.

It is not difficult to understand why, in spite of this, we feel
constrained to call the propositions of geometry "true." Geometrical
ideas correspond to more or less exact objects in nature, and these
last are undoubtedly the exclusive cause of the genesis of those
ideas. Geometry ought to refrain from such a course, in order to give
to its structure the largest possible logical unity. The practice, for
example, of seeing in a "distance" two marked positions on a
practically rigid body is something which is lodged deeply in our
habit of thought. We are accustomed further to regard three points as