Authority is only good for proving facts.

We must draw our own conclusions.' And Argemone began to suspect that he was right,--at least to see that her opinions were mere hearsays, picked up at her own will and fancy; while his were living, daily-growing ideas.

Her mind was beside his as the vase of cut flowers by the side of the rugged tree, whose roots are feeding deep in the mother earth.

In him she first learnt how one great truth received into the depths of the soul germinates there, and bears fruit a thousandfold; explaining, and connecting, and glorifying innumerable things, apparently the most unlike and insignificant; and daily she became a more reverent listener, and gave herself up, half against her will and conscience, to the guidance of a man whom she knew to be her inferior in morals and in orthodoxy.

She had worshipped intellect, and now it had become her tyrant; and she was ready to give up every belief which she once had prized, to flutter like a moth round its fascinating brilliance.
Who can blame her, poor girl?
For Lancelot's humility was even more irresistible than his eloquence.