Grice and Carus

 An unfortunate professor has undertaken, many months previously, to give ten formal lectures to a certain institution, and one month before the starting date the institution asks him for the titles of the individual lectures. He reasons as follows: "Oh, God: It's all a mess; I have piles of material, but none of it seems worth listening to, and it isn't in shape, and I am in a terrible muddle. And if I give them the ten titles I had in mind I'm not sure that they will fit what (if anything) finally emerges. It's always like this; I take something on long in advance, and then when the time comes I'm reduced to pulp. Why do I do it? Why don't I learn? I'd like to cancel the whole thing. However, I said I would do it, and if I cancel my name will be mud, so I must go through with it somehow. Anyway, I'm probably not in a fit state to make a proper judgement about the value of my material. I can see they must have titles, and I can't think of anything better than the ones I had in mind, so I'll give them those and ask for latitude to depart from them if need be. And I'll get four lectures done by the starting date, and that will give me some leeway once they begin."