Ideas in General and Their Origins

1. Idea is the Object of Thinking.

1. An idea is what we think about.

Every man being conscious to himself that he thinks; and that which his mind is applied about whilst thinking being the IDEAS that are there, it is past doubt that men have in their minds several ideas,—such as are those expressed by the words whiteness, hardness, sweetness, thinking, motion, man, elephant, army, drunkenness, and others: it is in the first place then to be inquired, HOW HE COMES BY THEM?

Everyone is aware of thinking. While thinking, the mind focuses on the IDEAS within it. So there is no doubt that people have various ideas in their minds. These include ideas expressed by the words whiteness, hardness, sweetness, thinking, motion, man, elephant, army, drunkenness, and others. The first question, then, is: HOW DO PEOPLE GET THESE IDEAS?

I know it is a received doctrine, that men have native ideas, and original characters, stamped upon their minds in their very first being. This opinion I have at large examined already; and, I suppose what I have said in the foregoing Book will be much more easily admitted, when I have shown whence the understanding may get all the ideas it has; and by what ways and degrees they may come into the mind;—for which I shall appeal to every one’s own observation and experience.

I know it is widely accepted that people have innate ideas and original marks imprinted on their minds from birth. I have already examined this opinion at length. I suppose my arguments in the previous Book will be much more easily accepted once I explain two things. First, where the understanding may get all its ideas. Second, how and through what stages those ideas may enter the mind. To explain this, I will appeal to each person’s own observation and experience.

2. All Ideas come from Sensation or Reflection.

2. All ideas come from sensory experience or reflection on our own minds.

Let us then suppose the mind to be, as we say, white paper, void of all characters, without any ideas:—How comes it to be furnished? Whence comes it by that vast store which the busy and boundless fancy of man has painted on it with an almost endless variety? Whence has it all the MATERIALS of reason and knowledge? To this I answer, in one word, from EXPERIENCE. In that all our knowledge is founded; and from that it ultimately derives itself. Our observation employed either, about external sensible objects, or about the internal operations of our minds perceived and reflected on by ourselves, is that which supplies our understandings with all the MATERIALS of thinking. These two are the fountains of knowledge, from whence all the ideas we have, or can naturally have, do spring.

Let us suppose, then, that the mind is, as we say, blank paper, without any marks or ideas. How does the mind come to be filled? Where does that vast store of ideas come from? Human imagination, active and boundless, has painted those ideas on the mind in an almost endless variety. Where does the mind get all the MATERIALS of reason and knowledge? I answer in one word: EXPERIENCE. All our knowledge is founded on experience, and all our knowledge ultimately comes from experience. We observe either external objects through our senses or the inner workings of our own minds through reflection. These observations supply our understanding with all the MATERIALS of thought. These two sources provide all the ideas we have or can naturally have.

3. The Objects of Sensation one Source of Ideas

3. Objects We Sense Are One Source of Ideas

First, our Senses, conversant about particular sensible objects, do convey into the mind several distinct perceptions of things, according to those various ways wherein those objects do affect them. And thus we come by those IDEAS we have of yellow, white, heat, cold, soft, hard, bitter, sweet, and all those which we call sensible qualities; which when I say the senses convey into the mind, I mean, they from external objects convey into the mind what produces there those perceptions. This great source of most of the ideas we have, depending wholly upon our senses, and derived by them to the understanding, I call SENSATION.

First, our senses deal with particular objects we can perceive and bring distinct perceptions of those objects into the mind. These perceptions vary according to the different ways the objects affect our senses. This is how we get our IDEAS of yellow, white, heat, cold, softness, hardness, bitterness, and sweetness. The same is true of all the qualities we call sensory qualities. When I say our senses bring these perceptions into the mind, I mean something more precise. Our senses bring into the mind, from external objects, what produces those perceptions there. This major source of most of our ideas depends entirely on our senses. Our senses pass these ideas on to the understanding. I call this source SENSATION.

4. The Operations of our Minds, the other Source of them.

4. The workings of our minds, their other source.

Secondly, the other fountain from which experience furnisheth the understanding with ideas is,—the perception of the operations of our own mind within us, as it is employed about the ideas it has got;—which operations, when the soul comes to reflect on and consider, do furnish the understanding with another set of ideas, which could not be had from things without. And such are perception, thinking, doubting, believing, reasoning, knowing, willing, and all the different actings of our own minds;—which we being conscious of, and observing in ourselves, do from these receive into our understandings as distinct ideas as we do from bodies affecting our senses. This source of ideas every man has wholly in himself; and though it be not sense, as having nothing to do with external objects, yet it is very like it, and might properly enough be called INTERNAL SENSE. But as I call the other Sensation, so I call this REFLECTION, the ideas it affords being such only as the mind gets by reflecting on its own operations within itself. By reflection then, in the following part of this discourse, I would be understood to mean, that notice which the mind takes of its own operations, and the manner of them, by reason whereof there come to be ideas of these operations in the understanding. These two, I say, viz. external material things, as the objects of SENSATION, and the operations of our own minds within, as the objects of REFLECTION, are to me the only originals from whence all our ideas take their beginnings. The term OPERATIONS here I use in a large sense, as comprehending not barely the actions of the mind about its ideas, but some sort of passions arising sometimes from them, such as is the satisfaction or uneasiness arising from any thought.

Second, experience supplies the understanding with ideas from another source: awareness of our own minds at work. We notice how the mind works with the ideas it has acquired. When the soul reflects on and considers these activities, they supply the understanding with another set of ideas. These ideas could not come from things outside us. Such activities include perception, thinking, doubting, believing, reasoning, knowing, willing, and all the different activities of our minds. We are conscious of these activities and observe them within ourselves. From these observations, we receive ideas as distinct as those we receive from bodies acting on our senses. Everyone has this source of ideas entirely within themselves. Although this awareness is not sense, since it has nothing to do with external objects, it is very similar. It might properly be called INTERNAL SENSE. But just as I call the other source Sensation, I call this source REFLECTION. Reflection supplies only those ideas the mind gains by reflecting on its own inner activities. In the rest of this discussion, reflection means the mind's awareness of its own activities and how they happen. Through this awareness, the understanding gains ideas of these activities. These two sources, I maintain, are the only sources from which all our ideas begin. They are external material things, the objects of SENSATION, and our minds' inner activities, the objects of REFLECTION. I use the term OPERATIONS here in a broad sense. It includes not only the mind's work with its ideas, but also some feelings that sometimes arise from those ideas. Such feelings include the satisfaction or uneasiness that arises from any thought.

5. All our Ideas are of the one or of the other of these.

5. All our ideas belong to one or the other of these.

The understanding seems to me not to have the least glimmering of any ideas which it doth not receive from one of these two. EXTERNAL OBJECTS furnish the mind with the ideas of sensible qualities, which are all those different perceptions they produce in us; and THE MIND furnishes the understanding with ideas of its own operations.

It seems to me that the understanding has not the faintest trace of any idea from outside these two sources. EXTERNAL OBJECTS give the mind ideas of qualities perceived through the senses. These ideas are all the different perceptions that external objects produce in us. And THE MIND gives the understanding ideas of its own activities.

These, when we have taken a full survey of them, and their several modes, and the compositions made out of them we shall find to contain all our whole stock of ideas; and that we have nothing in our minds which did not come in one of these two ways. Let any one examine his own thoughts, and thoroughly search into his understanding; and then let him tell me, whether all the original ideas he has there, are any other than of the objects of his senses, or of the operations of his mind, considered as objects of his reflection. And how great a mass of knowledge soever he imagines to be lodged there, he will, upon taking a strict view, see that he has not any idea in his mind but what one of these two have imprinted;—though perhaps, with infinite variety compounded and enlarged by the understanding, as we shall see hereafter.

Once we fully examine these ideas, their various forms, and their combinations, we will find they contain all our ideas. We will find that nothing in our minds came to us except through one of these two ways. Let anyone examine their own thoughts and thoroughly search their understanding. Then let them tell me whether any of their original ideas come from anything other than these two sources. The first is the objects of their senses. The second is their mind’s own activities, considered as objects of reflection. However much knowledge anyone imagines their mind holds, a close examination will reveal the same thing. They have no idea in their mind that did not come from one of these two sources. Though perhaps their understanding has combined and expanded these ideas in endlessly varied ways, as we will see later.

6. Observable in Children.

6. Can Be Observed in Children.

He that attentively considers the state of a child, at his first coming into the world, will have little reason to think him stored with plenty of ideas, that are to be the matter of his future knowledge. It is BY DEGREES he comes to be furnished with them. And though the ideas of obvious and familiar qualities imprint themselves before the memory begins to keep a register of time or order, yet it is often so late before some unusual qualities come in the way, that there are few men that cannot recollect the beginning of their acquaintance with them. And if it were worth while, no doubt a child might be so ordered as to have but a very few, even of the ordinary ideas, till he were grown up to a man. But all that are born into the world, being surrounded with bodies that perpetually and diversely affect them, variety of ideas, whether care be taken of it or not, are imprinted on the minds of children. Light and colours are busy at hand everywhere, when the eye is but open; sounds and some tangible qualities fail not to solicit their proper senses, and force an entrance to the mind;—but yet, I think, it will be granted easily, that if a child were kept in a place where he never saw any other but black and white till he were a man, he would have no more ideas of scarlet or green, than he that from his childhood never tasted an oyster, or a pine-apple, has of those particular relishes.

Anyone who carefully considers a newborn child will have little reason to think the child already has many ideas. Those ideas will become the material of the child’s future knowledge. The child acquires them GRADUALLY. Ideas of obvious, familiar qualities leave their impressions before memory begins recording when things happen or in what order. But some unusual qualities are encountered so late that few people cannot remember first becoming acquainted with them. And if it were worth the effort, a child’s upbringing could certainly be arranged to limit even ordinary ideas. The child could then reach adulthood with very few of those ideas. But everyone born into the world is surrounded by physical objects that constantly affect them in different ways. So a variety of ideas leave impressions on children’s minds, whether anyone takes care to introduce those ideas or not. Light and colours are everywhere, ready to act whenever the eyes are open. Sounds and some qualities perceived by touch inevitably stimulate their respective senses and force their way into the mind. But I think people will readily agree on the following point. Suppose a child grew to adulthood in a place where the child saw only black and white. The child would have no more idea of scarlet or green than someone would have of certain flavours without tasting them. Such a person, having never tasted an oyster or a pineapple since childhood, would have no idea of their particular flavours.

7. Men are differently furnished with these, according to the different Objects they converse with.

7. People have different sets of these, depending on the different objects they encounter.

Men then come to be furnished with fewer or more simple ideas from without, according as the objects they converse with afford greater or less variety; and from the operations of their minds within, according as they more or less reflect on them. For, though he that contemplates the operations of his mind, cannot but have plain and clear ideas of them; yet, unless he turn his thoughts that way, and considers them ATTENTIVELY, he will no more have clear and distinct ideas of all the operations of his mind, and all that may be observed therein, than he will have all the particular ideas of any landscape, or of the parts and motions of a clock, who will not turn his eyes to it, and with attention heed all the parts of it. The picture, or clock may be so placed, that they may come in his way every day; but yet he will have but a confused idea of all the parts they are made up of, till he applies himself with attention, to consider them each in particular.

People gain more or fewer simple ideas from outside themselves, depending on the variety of objects they encounter. They also gain ideas from their own mental activities, depending on how much they reflect on those activities. For although anyone who examines the activities of their mind cannot help having plain and clear ideas of them, attention is necessary. Unless people turn their thoughts toward those activities and consider them ATTENTIVELY, their understanding will remain limited. They will not have clear and distinct ideas of all their mental activities and everything observable in them. This is just like someone who does not look carefully at a landscape or a clock’s parts and movements. Without examining every part, that person will not have all the particular ideas of the landscape or clock. The picture or clock may be placed where the person encounters it every day. Yet their idea of all its parts will remain confused until they carefully examine each part individually.

8. Ideas of Reflection later, because they need Attention.

8. Ideas from reflection come later because they require attention.

And hence we see the reason why it is pretty late before most children get ideas of the operations of their own minds; and some have not any very clear or perfect ideas of the greatest part of them all their lives. Because, though they pass there continually, yet, like floating visions, they make not deep impressions enough to leave in their mind clear, distinct, lasting ideas, till the understanding turns inward upon itself, reflects on its own operations, and makes them the objects of its own contemplation. Children when they come first into it, are surrounded with a world of new things which, by a constant solicitation of their senses, draw the mind constantly to them; forward to take notice of new, and apt to be delighted with the variety of changing objects. Thus the first years are usually employed and diverted in looking abroad. Men’s business in them is to acquaint themselves with what is to be found without; and so growing up in a constant attention to outward sensations, seldom make any considerable reflection on what passes within them, till they come to be of riper years; and some scarce ever at all.

This explains why most children are fairly old before they form ideas about how their own minds work. Some people never form very clear or complete ideas about most of these mental activities throughout their lives. For although these activities happen continually, they are like passing visions. They do not make impressions deep enough to leave clear, distinct, lasting ideas in the mind. Such ideas form only when the mind turns inward, reflects on its own activities, and makes those activities its focus. When children first enter the world, they are surrounded by new things. These things constantly engage their senses and draw their attention outward. Children are eager to notice new things and readily find delight in the variety of changing objects. So their first years are usually spent looking outward, with their attention occupied and diverted by the world around them. Their task during those years is to become familiar with what lies outside them. So they grow up constantly attending to sensations from the outside world. They seldom reflect much on what happens within their minds until they are older. Some hardly ever do so at all.

9. The Soul begins to have Ideas when it begins to perceive.

9. The soul begins to have ideas when it begins to perceive.

To ask, at what TIME a man has first any ideas, is to ask, when he begins to perceive;—HAVING IDEAS, and PERCEPTION, being the same thing. I know it is an opinion, that the soul always thinks, and that it has the actual perception of ideas in itself constantly, as long as it exists; and that actual thinking is as inseparable from the soul as actual extension is from the body; which if true, to inquire after the beginning of a man’s ideas is the same as to inquire after the beginning of his soul. For, by this account, soul and its ideas, as body and its extension, will begin to exist both at the same time.

To ask when a person first has ideas is to ask when that person begins to perceive. Having ideas and perceiving are the same thing. I know some believe that the soul always thinks. They hold that the soul constantly perceives ideas within itself for as long as the soul exists. On this view, thinking is as inseparable from the soul as occupying space is from the body. If this view is true, asking when a person’s ideas begin is the same as asking when their soul begins. For, on this account, the soul and its ideas begin to exist at the same time. The same is true of the body and the space the body occupies.

10. The Soul thinks not always; for this wants Proofs.

10. The soul does not always think, because the claim that it always thinks lacks proof.

But whether the soul be supposed to exist antecedent to, or coeval with, or some time after the first rudiments of organization, or the beginnings of life in the body, I leave to be disputed by those who have better thought of that matter. I confess myself to have one of those dull souls, that doth not perceive itself always to contemplate ideas; nor can conceive it any more necessary for the soul always to think, than for the body always to move: the perception of ideas being (as I conceive) to the soul, what motion is to the body; not its essence, but one of its operations. And therefore, though thinking be supposed never so much the proper action of the soul, yet it is not necessary to suppose that it should be always thinking, always in action. That, perhaps, is the privilege of the infinite Author and Preserver of all things, who “never slumbers nor sleeps”; but is not competent to any finite being, at least not to the soul of man. We know certainly, by experience, that we SOMETIMES think; and thence draw this infallible consequence,—that there is something in us that has a power to think. But whether that substance PERPETUALLY thinks or no, we can be no further assured than experience informs us. For, to say that actual thinking is essential to the soul, and inseparable from it, is to beg what is in question, and not to prove it by reason;—which is necessary to be done, if it be not a self-evident proposition. But whether this, “That the soul always thinks,” be a self-evident proposition, that everybody assents to at first hearing, I appeal to mankind. It is doubted whether I thought at all last night or no. The question being about a matter of fact, it is begging it to bring, as a proof for it, an hypothesis, which is the very thing in dispute: by which way one may prove anything, and it is but supposing that all watches, whilst the balance beats, think, and it is sufficiently proved, and past doubt, that my watch thought all last night. But he that would not deceive himself, ought to build his hypothesis on matter of fact, and make it out by sensible experience, and not presume on matter of fact, because of his hypothesis, that is, because he supposes it to be so; which way of proving amounts to this, that I must necessarily think all last night, because another supposes I always think, though I myself cannot perceive that I always do so.

The soul may exist before the body's first stages of development or the beginnings of bodily life. It may come into existence at the same time, or sometime afterward. I leave that debate to those who have thought more deeply about the matter. I admit that mine is one of those dull souls that does not find itself always considering ideas. Nor can I see why the soul must always think, any more than the body must always move. As I understand it, perceiving ideas is to the soul what motion is to the body. Neither is its essence, but only one of its activities. So, even if thinking is considered the soul's characteristic activity, the soul need not always be thinking, always active. Perhaps constant activity is the privilege of the infinite Author and Preserver of all things, who “never slumbers nor sleeps”. But no finite being is capable of constant activity, at least not the human soul. We know for certain, from experience, that we SOMETIMES think. From that knowledge, we can conclude with certainty that something within us has the power to think. But whether that substance thinks PERPETUALLY, we can know only as far as experience tells us. To say that thinking is essential to the soul, and inseparable from it, merely assumes the point in dispute. Such a claim does not prove the point by reason, as it must unless the claim is self-evident. But is “The soul always thinks” a self-evident statement that everyone accepts on first hearing? I leave humanity to judge. Whether I thought at all last night is in doubt. The question concerns a matter of fact. To offer a theory as proof, when that very theory is disputed, is to assume the answer. By that method, anyone can prove anything. We need only suppose that all watches think while their balance wheels keep beating. Then we have sufficient proof, beyond doubt, that my watch thought all last night. But anyone who wants to avoid self-deception should base a theory on facts and establish it through sensory experience. They should not assume facts because of their theory, simply because they suppose things to be that way. That method of proof amounts to saying I must have thought all last night because someone else supposes I always think. Yet I myself cannot perceive that I always do.

But men in love with their opinions may not only suppose what is in question, but allege wrong matter of fact. How else could any one make it an inference of mine, that a thing is not, because we are not sensible of it in our sleep? I do not say there is no SOUL in a man, because he is not sensible of it in his sleep; but I do say, he cannot THINK at any time, waking or sleeping, without being sensible of it. Our being sensible of it is not necessary to anything but to our thoughts; and to them it is; and to them it always will be necessary, till we can think without being conscious of it.

But people in love with their opinions may not only assume what is being debated, but also misstate the facts. How else could anyone claim that I draw this conclusion: something does not exist because we are unaware of it during sleep? I do not say that a person has no SOUL because he is unaware of his soul during sleep. But I do say that he cannot THINK at any time, awake or asleep, without being aware of his thinking. Our awareness is necessary only for our thoughts, not for anything else. And awareness will always be necessary for thought until we can think without being conscious of thinking.

11. It is not always conscious of it.

11. It is not always aware of it.

I grant that the soul, in a waking man, is never without thought, because it is the condition of being awake. But whether sleeping without dreaming be not an affection of the whole man, mind as well as body, may be worth a waking man’s consideration; it being hard to conceive that anything should think and not be conscious of it. If the soul doth think in a sleeping man without being conscious of it, I ask whether, during such thinking, it has any pleasure or pain, or be capable of happiness or misery? I am sure the man is not; no more than the bed or earth he lies on. For to be happy or miserable without being conscious of it, seems to me utterly inconsistent and impossible. Or if it be possible that the SOUL can, whilst the body is sleeping, have its thinking, enjoyments, and concerns, its pleasures or pain, apart, which the MAN is not conscious of nor partakes in,—it is certain that Socrates asleep and Socrates awake is not the same person; but his soul when he sleeps, and Socrates the man, consisting of body and soul, when he is waking, are two persons: since waking Socrates has no knowledge of, or concernment for that happiness or misery of his soul, which it enjoys alone by itself whilst he sleeps, without perceiving anything of it; no more than he has for the happiness or misery of a man in the Indies, whom he knows not. For, if we take wholly away all consciousness of our actions and sensations, especially of pleasure and pain, and the concernment that accompanies it, it will be hard to know wherein to place personal identity.

I grant that the soul never stops thinking while a person is awake, because thinking is part of being awake. But perhaps dreamless sleep affects the whole person, both mind and body. That question may be worth considering while awake. For it is hard to imagine anything thinking without being conscious of its thoughts. If the soul thinks during sleep without being conscious of its thoughts, I ask whether it feels pleasure or pain. Is the soul, while thinking in this way, capable of happiness or misery? I am sure the sleeping person is not, any more than the bed or ground he lies on. For being happy or miserable without being conscious of that happiness or misery seems to me utterly contradictory and impossible. Or suppose the SOUL, while the body sleeps, can have thoughts, enjoyments, concerns, pleasures, or pain of its own. Suppose the MAN is neither conscious of these experiences nor shares in them. Then Socrates asleep and Socrates awake are certainly not the same person. His soul during sleep and Socrates the man, consisting of body and soul when awake, are two persons. For waking Socrates knows nothing of, and has no concern for, his soul’s happiness or misery during sleep. His soul experiences that happiness or misery alone, without Socrates perceiving any of it. He has no more concern for those experiences than for the happiness or misery of a stranger in the Indies. For suppose we remove all consciousness of our actions and sensations, especially pleasure and pain, along with the accompanying concern. It will then be hard to say what personal identity rests on.

12. If a sleeping Man thinks without knowing it, the sleeping and waking Man are two Persons.

12. If a man thinks in his sleep without knowing he is thinking, his sleeping and waking selves are two persons.

The soul, during sound sleep, thinks, say these men. Whilst it thinks and perceives, it is capable certainly of those of delight or trouble, as well as any other perceptions; and IT must necessarily be CONSCIOUS of its own perceptions. But it has all this apart: the sleeping MAN, it is plain, is conscious of nothing of all this. Let us suppose, then, the soul of Castor, while he is sleeping, retired from his body; which is no impossible supposition for the men I have here to do with, who so liberally allow life, without a thinking soul, to all other animals. These men cannot then judge it impossible, or a contradiction, that the body should live without the soul; nor that the soul should subsist and think, or have perception, even perception of happiness or misery, without the body. Let us then, I say, suppose the soul of Castor separated during his sleep from his body, to think apart. Let us suppose, too, that it chooses for its scene of thinking the body of another man, v. g. Pollux, who is sleeping without a soul. For, if Castor’s soul can think, whilst Castor is asleep, what Castor is never conscious of, it is no matter what PLACE it chooses to think in. We have here, then, the bodies of two men with only one soul between them, which we will suppose to sleep and wake by turns; and the soul still thinking in the waking man, whereof the sleeping man is never conscious, has never the least perception. I ask, then, whether Castor and Pollux, thus with only one soul between them, which thinks and perceives in one what the other is never conscious of, nor is concerned for, are not two as distinct PERSONS as Castor and Hercules, or as Socrates and Plato were? And whether one of them might not be very happy, and the other very miserable? Just by the same reason, they make the soul and the man two persons, who make the soul think apart what the man is not conscious of. For, I suppose nobody will make identity of persons to consist in the soul’s being united to the very same numerical particles of matter. For if that be necessary to identity, it will be impossible, in that constant flux of the particles of our bodies, that any man should be the same person two days, or two moments, together.

These men say the soul thinks during deep sleep. While the soul thinks and perceives, it can certainly feel pleasure or distress, just as it can have other perceptions. And the soul must be conscious of its own perceptions. But the soul experiences all this separately. The sleeping person is plainly conscious of none of it. Let us suppose, then, that Castor’s soul leaves his body while he sleeps. The men I am arguing against cannot regard this as impossible. They so freely grant that all other animals live without a thinking soul. These men therefore cannot judge it impossible or contradictory for the body to live without the soul. Nor can they deny that the soul could exist and think without the body. Such a soul could have perceptions, even perceptions of happiness or misery. Let us then suppose, as I said, that Castor’s soul separates from his body during sleep and thinks independently. Let us also suppose that the soul chooses another man’s body as the place for its thinking. That man might be Pollux, who is sleeping without a soul. For suppose Castor’s soul can think while Castor sleeps, without Castor ever being conscious of those thoughts. If so, the place where the soul chooses to think makes no difference. We now have two men’s bodies sharing just one soul. Let us suppose the two men sleep and wake in turn. The soul keeps thinking in the waking man. The sleeping man is never conscious of those thoughts and has not the slightest perception of them. I ask, then, whether Castor and Pollux are not two distinct persons. They share just one soul, which thinks and perceives in one man what the other never knows or cares about. Are they not as distinct as Castor and Hercules, or as Socrates and Plato were? And might not one be very happy and the other very miserable? By exactly the same reasoning, those who say the soul thinks thoughts the person is unaware of make them two persons. For I suppose nobody would claim that personal identity requires the soul’s union with exactly the same individual particles of matter. If that were necessary for identity, our bodies’ particles change so constantly that nobody could remain the same person. Not for two days, or even two moments in a row.

13. Impossible to convince those that sleep without dreaming, that they think.

13. It is impossible to convince people who sleep without dreaming that they think while asleep.

Thus, methinks, every drowsy nod shakes their doctrine, who teach that the soul is always thinking. Those, at least, who do at any time SLEEP WITHOUT DREAMING, can never be convinced that their thoughts are sometimes for four hours busy without their knowing of it; and if they are taken in the very act, waked in the middle of that sleeping contemplation, can give no manner of account of it.

So, it seems to me, every sleepy nod shakes the doctrine that the soul is always thinking. At least, people who ever SLEEP WITHOUT DREAMING can never be convinced their thoughts sometimes stay busy for four hours without their knowledge. And if they are caught in the act, woken in the middle of that sleeping contemplation, they can give no account of it.

14. That men dream without remembering it, in vain urged.

14. Arguing that people dream without remembering their dreams proves nothing.

It will perhaps be said,—That the soul thinks even in the soundest sleep, but the MEMORY retains it not. That the soul in a sleeping man should be this moment busy a thinking, and the next moment in a waking man not remember nor be able to recollect one jot of all those thoughts, is very hard to be conceived, and would need some better proof than bare assertion to make it be believed. For who can without any more ado, but being barely told so, imagine that the greatest part of men do, during all their lives, for several hours every day, think of something, which if they were asked, even in the middle of these thoughts, they could remember nothing at all of? Most men, I think, pass a great part of their sleep without dreaming. I once knew a man that was bred a scholar, and had no bad memory, who told me he had never dreamed in his life, till he had that fever he was then newly recovered of, which was about the five or six and twentieth year of his age. I suppose the world affords more such instances: at least every one’s acquaintance will furnish him with examples enough of such as pass most of their nights without dreaming.

Perhaps someone will say that the soul thinks even in the deepest sleep, but MEMORY does not retain those thoughts. It is very hard to imagine a sleeping person’s soul busy thinking one moment, then remembering nothing upon waking. The person cannot recall even the smallest part of those thoughts. Such a claim would need better evidence than a mere assertion before we could believe it. Who could accept the following simply because someone said so? Most people spend several hours every day, throughout their lives, thinking about something they cannot remember at all. They could remember nothing even if asked in the middle of those thoughts. Most people, I think, spend much of their sleep without dreaming. I once knew an educated man with a good enough memory who told me he had never dreamed until recently. His first dream came during a fever from which he had just recovered. He was about twenty-five or twenty-six at the time. I suppose there are more such cases in the world. At least, everyone knows enough people who spend most of their nights without dreaming.

15. Upon this Hypothesis, the Thoughts of a sleeping Man ought to be most rational.

15. According to this hypothesis, a sleeping man's thoughts should be the most rational.

To think often, and never to retain it so much as one moment, is a very useless sort of thinking; and the soul, in such a state of thinking, does very little, if at all, excel that of a looking-glass, which constantly receives variety of images, or ideas, but retains none; they disappear and vanish, and there remain no footsteps of them; the looking-glass is never the better for such ideas, nor the soul for such thoughts. Perhaps it will be said, that in a waking MAN the materials of the body are employed, and made use of, in thinking; and that the memory of thoughts is retained by the impressions that are made on the brain, and the traces there left after such thinking; but that in the thinking of the SOUL, which is not perceived in a sleeping man, there the soul thinks apart, and making no use of the organs of the body, leaves no impressions on it, and consequently no memory of such thoughts. Not to mention again the absurdity of two distinct persons, which follows from this supposition, I answer, further,—That whatever ideas the mind can receive and contemplate without the help of the body, it is reasonable to conclude it can retain without the help of the body too; or else the soul, or any separate spirit, will have but little advantage by thinking. If it has no memory of its own thoughts; if it cannot lay them up for its own use, and be able to recall them upon occasion; if it cannot reflect upon what is past, and make use of its former experiences, reasonings, and contemplations, to what purpose does it think? They who make the soul a thinking thing, at this rate, will not make it a much more noble being than those do whom they condemn, for allowing it to be nothing but the subtilist parts of matter. Characters drawn on dust, that the first breath of wind effaces; or impressions made on a heap of atoms, or animal spirits, are altogether as useful, and render the subject as noble, as the thoughts of a soul that perish in thinking; that, once out of sight, are gone for ever, and leave no memory of themselves behind them. Nature never makes excellent things for mean or no uses: and it is hardly to be conceived that our infinitely wise Creator should make so admirable a faculty as the power of thinking, that faculty which comes nearest the excellency of his own incomprehensible being, to be so idly and uselessly employed, at least a fourth part of its time here, as to think constantly, without remembering any of those thoughts, without doing any good to itself or others, or being any way useful to any other part of the creation. If we will examine it, we shall not find, I suppose, the motion of dull and senseless matter, any where in the universe, made so little use of and so wholly thrown away.

To think often, yet never remember a thought for even a moment, is a very useless kind of thinking. A soul thinking this way is little better, if at all, than a mirror. A mirror constantly receives different images, or ideas, but keeps none of them. The images disappear and leave no trace. The mirror gains nothing from these ideas, and neither does the soul from such thoughts. Perhaps someone will say that, in a waking person, the body’s material is used in thinking. Memories of thoughts are preserved through impressions made on the brain and the traces those thoughts leave behind. But during sleep, the soul’s unperceived thinking happens independently of the body. Because the soul uses none of the body’s organs, its thoughts leave no impressions on the body. Consequently, no memory of those thoughts remains. I will not repeat the absurd conclusion that this theory produces two distinct persons. My further answer is this: whatever ideas the mind can receive and consider without the body’s help, it can reasonably be expected to retain without that help. Otherwise, the soul, or any spirit existing apart from a body, gains little from thinking. What purpose does thinking serve if the soul has no memory of its own thoughts? What purpose does thinking serve if the soul cannot store its thoughts for use and recall them when needed? What if the soul cannot reflect on the past or use its previous experiences, reasoning, and reflections? Those who describe the soul as a thinking thing on these terms give it little greater dignity than their opponents do. Yet they condemn those opponents for treating the soul as nothing but the finest particles of matter. Consider writing in dust, erased by the first breath of wind. Or consider impressions made on a heap of atoms, or on animal spirits. Such marks are just as useful, and give what bears them just as much dignity, as thoughts that perish as the soul thinks them. Once those thoughts pass from view, they are gone forever and leave no memory behind. Nature never makes excellent things for trivial purposes or for no purpose at all. And we can hardly imagine our infinitely wise Creator making such an admirable power as thinking for such idle, useless activity. This power comes closest to the excellence of his own incomprehensible being. Yet on this account, the soul spends at least a quarter of its time here constantly thinking without remembering any thoughts. During that time, its thinking benefits neither itself nor others, nor serves any other part of creation. If we examine the universe, I suppose we will find no movement of lifeless, unthinking matter so little used. Nowhere, I suppose, is such movement so completely wasted.

16. On this Hypothesis, the Soul must have Ideas not derived from Sensation or Reflection, of which there is no Appearance.

16. Under this hypothesis, the soul must have ideas that do not come from sensation or reflection. Yet there is no evidence of such ideas.

It is true, we have sometimes instances of perception whilst we are asleep, and retain the memory of those thoughts: but how extravagant and incoherent for the most part they are; how little conformable to the perfection and order of a rational being, those who are acquainted with dreams need not be told. This I would willingly be satisfied in,—whether the soul, when it thinks thus apart, and as it were separate from the body, acts less rationally than when conjointly with it, or no. If its separate thoughts be less rational, then these men must say, that the soul owes the perfection of rational thinking to the body: if it does not, it is a wonder that our dreams should be, for the most part, so frivolous and irrational; and that the soul should retain none of its more rational soliloquies and meditations.

It is true that we sometimes have perceptions while asleep and remember those thoughts. But anyone familiar with dreams knows how wild and incoherent they usually are. They fall far short of the perfection and order of a rational being. I would welcome an answer to this question: Does the soul think less rationally when, so to speak, separate from the body than when united with the body? If the soul’s separate thoughts are less rational, these men must admit that rational thought owes its perfection to the body. If those thoughts are not less rational, then it is surprising that our dreams are usually so trivial and irrational. It is also surprising that the soul remembers none of its more rational conversations with itself and reflections.

17. If I think when I know it not, nobody else can know it.

17. If I think without knowing that I am thinking, no one else can know that I am thinking.

Those who so confidently tell us that the soul always actually thinks, I would they would also tell us, what those ideas are that are in the soul of a child, before or just at the union with the body, before it hath received any by sensation. The dreams of sleeping men are, as I take it, all made up of the waking man’s ideas; though for the most part oddly put together. It is strange, if the soul has ideas of its own that it derived not from sensation or reflection, (as it must have, if it thought before it received any impressions from the body,) that it should never, in its private thinking, (so private, that the man himself perceives it not,) retain any of them the very moment it wakes out of them, and then make the man glad with new discoveries. Who can find it reason that the soul should, in its retirement during sleep, have so many hours’ thoughts, and yet never light on any of those ideas it borrowed not from sensation or reflection; or at least preserve the memory of none but such, which, being occasioned from the body, must needs be less natural to a spirit? It is strange the soul should never once in a man’s whole life recall over any of its pure native thoughts, and those ideas it had before it borrowed anything from the body; never bring into the waking man’s view any other ideas but what have a tang of the cask, and manifestly derive their original from that union. If it always thinks, and so had ideas before it was united, or before it received any from the body, it is not to be supposed but that during sleep it recollects its native ideas; and during that retirement from communicating with the body, whilst it thinks by itself, the ideas it is busied about should be, sometimes at least, those more natural and congenial ones which it had in itself, underived from the body, or its own operations about them: which, since the waking man never remembers, we must from this hypothesis conclude either that the soul remembers something that the man does not; or else that memory belongs only to such ideas as are derived from the body, or the mind’s operations about them.

Some people confidently tell us that the soul is always actively thinking. I wish they would also tell us what ideas a child’s soul has before or just as it joins the body. At that point, the soul has not yet received any ideas through sensation. As I understand them, sleeping people’s dreams consist entirely of ideas they have while awake. Those ideas are usually put together in strange ways. Suppose the soul has ideas of its own, not gained through sensation or reflection. The soul must have such ideas if it thought before receiving any impressions from the body. Then it is strange that the soul never retains any of those ideas at the very moment of waking. These would be ideas from thoughts so private that even the person knows nothing of them. Why does the soul never delight the waking person with new discoveries? Who can think it reasonable that the soul spends so many hours thinking in the privacy of sleep, yet never encounters such ideas? Or why does the soul remember only ideas gained through sensation or reflection? Since those ideas arise from the body, they must be less natural to a spirit. It is strange that the soul never once recalls any of its pure, native thoughts throughout a person’s life. These would be the ideas the soul had before borrowing anything from the body. Yet the soul never presents the waking person with any ideas except those still tasting of the barrel they came from. Those ideas plainly originate in the soul’s union with the body. If the soul always thinks, then it had ideas before joining the body, or before receiving any ideas from the body. We must therefore suppose that the soul recalls its native ideas during sleep. During sleep, the soul withdraws from communication with the body and thinks by itself. At least sometimes, its thoughts should concern those more natural and congenial ideas it originally held within itself. Those ideas would come neither from the body nor from the soul’s own thinking about ideas received from the body. Yet the waking person never remembers those native ideas. On this theory, we must therefore reach one of two conclusions. Either the soul remembers something the person does not remember. Or memory belongs only to ideas derived from the body or from the mind’s own thinking about those ideas.

18. How knows any one that the Soul always thinks? For if it be not a self-evident Proposition, it needs Proof.

18. How does anyone know that the soul always thinks? For if that claim is not self-evident, it needs proof.

I would be glad also to learn from these men who so confidently pronounce that the human soul, or, which is all one, that a man always thinks, how they come to know it; nay, how they come to know that they themselves think, when they themselves do not perceive it. This, I am afraid, is to be sure without proofs, and to know without perceiving. It is, I suspect, a confused notion, taken up to serve an hypothesis; and none of those clear truths, that either their own evidence forces us to admit, or common experience makes it impudence to deny. For the most that can be said of it is, that it is possible the soul may always think, but not always retain it in memory. And I say, it is as possible that the soul may not always think; and much more probable that it should sometimes not think, than that it should often think, and that a long while together, and not be conscious to itself, the next moment after, that it had thought.

I would also like to ask these men how they know that the human soul always thinks. They state this so confidently, and saying the soul always thinks is the same as saying a person always thinks. Indeed, how do they know that they themselves are thinking when they are not aware of it? This, I fear, is being certain without proof and knowing without awareness. I suspect this is a confused idea adopted to support a hypothesis. It is not one of those clear truths whose own evidence compels us to accept them. Nor is it a truth that common experience makes it shameless to deny. For the most anyone can say is that the soul may always think without always remembering its thoughts. And I say it is equally possible that the soul does not always think. It is much more likely that the soul sometimes does not think than that it often thinks for long stretches without, a moment later, being aware that it had thought.

19. That a Man should be busy in Thinking, and yet not retain it the next moment, very improbable.

19. It is very unlikely that someone could be actively thinking yet remember nothing of those thoughts a moment later.

To suppose the soul to think, and the man not to perceive it, is, as has been said, to make two persons in one man. And if one considers well these men’s way of speaking, one should be led into a suspicion that they do so. For those who tell us that the SOUL always thinks, do never, that I remember, say that a MAN always thinks. Can the soul think, and not the man? Or a man think, and not be conscious of it? This, perhaps, would be suspected of jargon in others. If they say the man thinks always, but is not always conscious of it, they may as well say his body is extended without having parts. For it is altogether as intelligible to say that a body is extended without parts, as that anything thinks without being conscious of it, or perceiving that it does so. They who talk thus may, with as much reason, if it be necessary to their hypothesis, say that a man is always hungry, but that he does not always feel it; whereas hunger consists in that very sensation, as thinking consists in being conscious that one thinks. If they say that a man is always conscious to himself of thinking, I ask, How they know it? Consciousness is the perception of what passes in a man’s own mind. Can another man perceive that I am conscious of anything, when I perceive it not myself? No man’s knowledge here can go beyond his experience. Wake a man out of a sound sleep, and ask him what he was that moment thinking of. If he himself be conscious of nothing he then thought on, he must be a notable diviner of thoughts that can assure him that he was thinking. May he not, with more reason, assure him he was not asleep? This is something beyond philosophy; and it cannot be less than revelation, that discovers to another thoughts in my mind, when I can find none there myself. And they must needs have a penetrating sight who can certainly see that I think, when I cannot perceive it myself, and when I declare that I do not; and yet can see that dogs or elephants do not think, when they give all the demonstration of it imaginable, except only telling us that they do so. This some may suspect to be a step beyond the Rosicrucians; it seeming easier to make one’s self invisible to others, than to make another’s thoughts visible to me, which are not visible to himself. But it is but defining the soul to be “a substance that always thinks,” and the business is done. If such definition be of any authority, I know not what it can serve for but to make many men suspect that they have no souls at all; since they find a good part of their lives pass away without thinking. For no definitions that I know, no suppositions of any sect, are of force enough to destroy constant experience; and perhaps it is the affectation of knowing beyond what we perceive, that makes so much useless dispute and noise in the world.

As already noted, suppose the soul thinks without the man being aware of it. That would make two persons in one man. And a close look at how these men speak gives us reason to suspect they do mean this. Those who tell us that the SOUL always thinks never, as far as I remember, say that a MAN always thinks. Can the soul think without the man thinking? Or can a man think without being aware of it? In anyone else, such language might be suspected of being jargon. If they say a man always thinks but is not always aware of it, they might as well make another claim. They might say his body takes up space without having parts. One claim is just as intelligible as the other. A body takes up space without parts, or something thinks without being aware that it thinks. If their theory requires it, these men could just as reasonably say a man is always hungry. They could add that he does not always feel his hunger. But hunger consists in that very feeling, just as thinking consists in being aware that one thinks. If they say a man is always aware of his own thinking, I ask: How do they know? Consciousness is awareness of what goes on in one’s own mind. Can another man tell that I am aware of something when I am not aware of it myself? No one’s knowledge here can go beyond his experience. Wake a man from a sound sleep and ask what he was thinking about at that moment. Suppose he himself is aware of no thought he had then. Anyone who assures him he was thinking must have a remarkable gift for reading thoughts. Could that person not, with more reason, assure him he was not asleep? This goes beyond philosophy. Nothing less than revelation could show someone else thoughts in my mind when I can find none there myself. These men must have remarkably penetrating sight. They can see with certainty that I think when I cannot detect any thinking and declare that I am not thinking. Yet they can also see that dogs or elephants do not think. Those animals give every imaginable sign of thinking, except telling us that they think. Some may suspect these claims go a step beyond the Rosicrucians. Making myself invisible to others seems easier than seeing another person’s thoughts when he cannot see them himself. But simply define the soul as “a substance that always thinks,” and the matter is settled. If such a definition carries any authority, I do not know what purpose it can serve except one. It can make many men suspect they have no souls at all. After all, they find that much of their lives passes without thinking. No definitions I know, and no assumptions held by any school of thought, can overturn consistent experience. And perhaps the desire to appear to know more than we perceive causes so much pointless argument and noise in the world.

20. No ideas but from Sensation and Reflection, evident, if we observe Children.

20. All ideas come from sensation and reflection. This becomes clear if we observe children.

I see no reason, therefore, to believe that the soul thinks before the senses have furnished it with ideas to think on; and as those are increased and retained, so it comes, by exercise, to improve its faculty of thinking in the several parts of it; as well as, afterwards, by compounding those ideas, and reflecting on its own operations, it increases its stock, as well as facility in remembering, imagining, reasoning, and other modes of thinking.

Therefore, I see no reason to believe the soul thinks before the senses supply ideas to think about. As the soul gains and retains more ideas, practice improves its various powers of thought. Later, by combining those ideas and reflecting on its own operations, the soul further increases its store of ideas. These activities also improve its ability to remember, imagine, reason, and think in other ways.

21. State of a child in the mother’s womb.

21. A child’s condition in the mother’s womb.

He that will suffer himself to be informed by observation and experience, and not make his own hypothesis the rule of nature, will find few signs of a soul accustomed to much thinking in a new-born child, and much fewer of any reasoning at all. And yet it is hard to imagine that the rational soul should think so much, and not reason at all. And he that will consider that infants newly come into the world spend the greatest part of their time in sleep, and are seldom awake but when either hunger calls for the teat, or some pain (the most importunate of all sensations), or some other violent impression on the body, forces the mind to perceive and attend to it;—he, I say, who considers this, will perhaps find reason to imagine that a Fœtus in the mother’s womb differs not much from the state of a vegetable, but passes the greatest part of its time without perception or thought; doing very little but sleep in a place where it needs not seek for food, and is surrounded with liquor, always equally soft, and near of the same temper; where the eyes have no light, and the ears so shut up are not very susceptible of sounds; and where there is little or no variety, or change of objects, to move the senses.

Anyone willing to learn from observation and experience will find few signs of much habitual thinking in a newborn’s soul. They must not treat their own theory as the rule nature follows. They will find even fewer signs of any reasoning at all. Yet it is hard to imagine that a rational soul could think so much without reasoning at all. Newborn infants spend most of their time asleep. They are seldom awake unless hunger makes them seek the breast, or pain or another strong bodily impression demands attention. Pain is the most insistent of all sensations. These sensations force the mind to notice them and pay attention. Anyone considering these facts may perhaps find reason to imagine that a fetus in the womb differs little from a plant. The fetus spends most of its time without perception or thought, doing little but sleeping. In the womb, the fetus has no need to seek food. The surrounding fluid remains equally soft and at nearly the same temperature. There is no light for the eyes, and the enclosed ears are not very receptive to sounds. There is little or no variety or change in the surrounding objects to stimulate the senses.

22. The mind thinks in proportion to the matter it gets from experience to think about.

22. The mind thinks in proportion to how much experience gives it to think about.

Follow a child from its birth, and observe the alterations that time makes, and you shall find, as the mind by the senses comes more and more to be furnished with ideas, it comes to be more and more awake; thinks more, the more it has matter to think on. After some time it begins to know the objects which, being most familiar with it, have made lasting impressions. Thus it comes by degrees to know the persons it daily converses with, and distinguishes them from strangers; which are instances and effects of its coming to retain and distinguish the ideas the senses convey to it. And so we may observe how the mind, BY DEGREES, improves in these; and ADVANCES to the exercise of those other faculties of enlarging, compounding, and abstracting its ideas, and of reasoning about them, and reflecting upon all these; of which I shall have occasion to speak more hereafter.

Follow a child from birth and observe the changes that time brings. You will find that as the senses supply the mind with more ideas, the mind becomes more awake. The more the mind has to think about, the more it thinks. After some time, the child begins to recognize the most familiar objects, which have made lasting impressions. In this way, the child gradually recognizes the people encountered daily and distinguishes them from strangers. These abilities show that the mind is learning to retain and distinguish the ideas supplied by the senses. So we may observe how the mind improves BY DEGREES in retaining and distinguishing ideas. The mind then ADVANCES to using its other abilities: expanding, combining, and abstracting its ideas, and reasoning about them. The mind also reflects on all these activities. I shall have more to say about these abilities later.

23. A man begins to have ideas when he first has sensation. What sensation is.

23. A person begins to have ideas when they first experience sensation. What sensation is.

If it shall be demanded then, WHEN a man BEGINS to have any ideas, I think the true answer is,—WHEN HE FIRST HAS ANY SENSATION. For, since there appear not to be any ideas in the mind before the senses have conveyed any in, I conceive that ideas in the understanding are coeval with SENSATION; WHICH IS SUCH AN IMPRESSION OR MOTION MADE IN SOME PART OF THE BODY, AS MAKES IT BE TAKEN NOTICE OF IN THE UNDERSTANDING.

If someone asks when a person begins to have ideas, I think the true answer is: at their first sensation. For there seem to be no ideas in the mind before the senses bring any in. So I believe that ideas begin in the understanding at the same time as sensation. Sensation is an impression or movement in some part of the body that causes the understanding to notice it.

24. The Original of all our Knowledge.

24. The source of all our knowledge.

The impressions then that are made on our sense by outward objects that are extrinsical to the mind; and its own operations about these impressions, reflected on by itself, as proper objects to be contemplated by it, are, I conceive, the original of all knowledge. Thus the first capacity of human intellect is,—that the mind is fitted to receive the impressions made on it; either through the senses by outward objects, or by its own operations when it reflects on them. This is the first step a man makes towards the discovery of anything, and the groundwork whereon to build all those notions which ever he shall have naturally in this world. All those sublime thoughts which tower above the clouds, and reach as high as heaven itself, take their rise and footing here: in all that great extent wherein the mind wanders, in those remote speculations it may seem to be elevated with, it stirs not one jot beyond those ideas which SENSE or REFLECTION have offered for its contemplation.

External objects make impressions on our senses. The mind also reflects on its own responses to these impressions, taking those responses as objects of thought. These impressions and reflections are, I believe, the source of all knowledge. Thus, the first capacity of human understanding is the mind’s ability to receive impressions. These come either through the senses from external objects, or from the mind’s own activities when it reflects on them. Receiving these impressions is a person’s first step toward discovering anything. It is the foundation for all the ideas anyone will ever acquire naturally in this world. All those lofty thoughts that tower above the clouds and reach as high as heaven itself begin here. However far the mind wanders, and however elevated its distant speculations may seem, the mind never goes even slightly further. It remains within the ideas that SENSE or REFLECTION have provided for its consideration.

25. In the Reception of simple Ideas, the Understanding is for the most part passive.

25. When receiving simple ideas, the mind is mostly passive.

In this part the understanding is merely passive; and whether or no it will have these beginnings, and as it were materials of knowledge, is not in its own power. For the objects of our senses do, many of them, obtrude their particular ideas upon our minds whether we will or not; and the operations of our minds will not let us be without, at least, some obscure notions of them. No man can be wholly ignorant of what he does when he thinks. These simple ideas, when offered to the mind, the understanding can no more refuse to have, nor alter when they are imprinted, nor blot them out and make new ones itself, than a mirror can refuse, alter, or obliterate the images or ideas which the objects set before it do therein produce. As the bodies that surround us do diversely affect our organs, the mind is forced to receive the impressions; and cannot avoid the perception of those ideas that are annexed to them.

In this process, the understanding is entirely passive. It cannot choose whether to receive these beginnings of knowledge, which are, so to speak, its raw materials. For many objects we sense force their particular ideas on our minds, whether we want them or not. And our minds’ own activities ensure that we have at least some vague awareness of those activities. No one can be entirely unaware of what they do when they think. When these simple ideas are presented to the mind, the understanding cannot refuse to receive them. Nor can it change them once they are impressed on the mind, or erase them and create new ones itself. In this respect, the understanding is like a mirror. A mirror cannot refuse, change, or erase the images produced in it by objects placed before it. As the physical objects around us affect our sense organs in different ways, the mind must receive the impressions. And the mind cannot avoid perceiving the ideas connected with those impressions.