Akeel Bilgrami

[Extract] Almost exactly two years ago in a symposium in Seattle, many of us who are here today had gathered to hear some of the most interesting philosophers of our time pay critical homage to Donald in his eightieth year, and to hear his replies. We all took in that afternoon that the forked lightning of John McDowell and Tyler Burge and Barry Stroud did not budge the Davidsonian oak. And it was so remarkable then, as it always was of Donald as his age advanced, that he was never once tempted by the nostalgic thought (often indulged by people much younger than him) that philosophy is no longer what it used to be. I remember thinking that afternoon that it would be a sad day when something causes the rich juices of this man to run dry –and I still cannot find it credible that it has happened.