Have to sometimes read sentences out loud so that my ears might hear them. Soon they are lost on page something or other, and are never found again, except in some recess of memory where they are distorted, their context lost, and they become like a shadow of meaning drifting around waiting to pounce.
I believe the argument was against perfection. In our world, the argument went, good practice should never raise a standard so high, it can never be reached, or even touched. In other words there is no cure for being human, not even Law. Which in my view, is rather a good thing, until someone comes along who thinks there is a cure. Temptation, I'll call it. Or maybe loopholes.