Scott's childhood preoccupation with morbidity, his phobia of lame men and anxiety from the events of his “psychological tragedy,” all speak to an early recognition of the fluctuating character of reality and the instability of everyday existence—notions which became utterly terrifying for the young composer, unaided by the philosophical sustenance he so craved. It was both the immanence and unknowability of this fluctuation that fuelled Scott's neuroses, akin to the “sense of precariousness” experienced in the fin de siecle psyche at large. This sense was personalised by Scott as a tormented unrest whose quieting came to be of the utmost concern. It was through this quest that Scott's artistic practice and spiritual practice could become, in a very real sense, fully integrated aspects of his inner life. Both practices were manifest in response to the same psychological unrest and both were independently summoned to counteract its acrimonious affects. The very unknowability of the thing sought served to intensify the quest. In this context, Scott's philosophical “instinct to pierce the veil” and his identification as an artist became further unified in a cosmic mission which lent the greatest possible purpose and meaning to his life and work.