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The violent reaction to the recent development of modern physics can only be understood when one realizes that here the foundations of physics have started moving, and that this motion has caused the feeling that the ground would be cut from science.
Said the Sun to the Moon—‘When you are but a lonely white crone,
And I, a dead King in my golden armor somewhere in a dark wood,
Remember only this of our hopeless love:
That never till Time is done
Will the fire of the heart and the fire of the mind be one.’
One way to describe what we do in psychoanalysis might be that we work to marry the fire of the heart and the fire of the mind. We try to make them one—at least in glimpses, for moments at a time. Unlike Sitwell, who says it can't be done (not, anyway, until some inconceivable and poetic future in which Time itself is done), psychoanalysts make it their daily business.
Also unlike Sitwell, psychoanalysts live firmly lodged in time.