The Human Mind’s Nature and Why Its Existence Is Easier to Prove Than the Body’s

By yesterdays Meditation I am cast into so great Doubts, that I shall never forget them, and yet I know not how to answer them, but being plunged on a suddain into a deep Gulf, I am so amazed that I can neither touch the bottome, nor swim at the top.

Yesterday’s meditation has left me with such great doubts that I will never forget them. Yet I do not know how to answer them. I feel as if I have suddenly plunged into a deep gulf. I am so overwhelmed that I can neither reach the bottom nor swim at the surface.

Nevertheless, I will endeavour once more, and try the way I set on yesterday, by removing from me whatever is in the least doubtful, as if I had certainly discover’d it to be altogether false, and will proceed till I find out some certainty, or if nothing else, yet at least this certainty, That there is nothing sure.

Nevertheless, I will try once more, following the approach I began yesterday. I will set aside whatever is even slightly doubtful, as if I knew for certain it was completely false. I will continue until I find some certainty. Or, if nothing else, I will at least reach this certainty, that nothing is certain.

Archimedes required but a point which was firm, and immoveable that he might move the whole Earth, so in the perfect undertaking Great things may be expected, if I can discover but the least thing that is true and indisputable.

Archimedes needed only a point that was firm and unmoving so he could move the whole Earth. Likewise, great things may be expected in completing this undertaking, if I can discover even the smallest thing that is true and beyond doubt.

Wherefore I suppose all things I see are false, and believe that nothing of those things are really existent, which my deceitful memory represents to me; ’tis evident I have no senses, that a Body, Figure, Extension, Motion, Place, &c. are meer Fictions; what thing therefore is there that is true? perhaps only this, That there is nothing certain.

So I suppose everything I see is false. I believe that nothing my deceptive memory presents to me really exists. It is clear that I have no senses. Bodies, shape, extension, motion, location, and so on are mere fictions. What, then, is true? Perhaps only this: Nothing is certain.

But how know I that there is nothing distinct from all these things (which I have now reckon’d) of which I have no reason to doubt? Is there no God (or whatever other name I may call him) who has put these thoughts into me? Yet why should I think this? When I my self perhaps am the Author of them. Upon which Account, therefore must not I be something? ’tis but just now that I denied that I had any senses, or any Body. Hold a while—Am I so tied to a Body and senses that I cannot exist without them? But I have perswaded my self that there is nothing in the World, no Heaven, no Earth, no Souls, no Bodies; and then why not, that I my self am not? Yet surely if I could perswade my self any thing, I was.

But how do I know there is nothing distinct from all these things (which I have just listed) that I have no reason to doubt? Is there no God (or whatever other name I may call him) who has put these thoughts into me? Yet why should I think God put these thoughts into me? Perhaps I myself am their Author. So, for that reason, must I not be something? Just now I denied having any senses or any Body. Wait a moment. Am I so bound to a Body and senses that I cannot exist without them? But I have convinced myself that nothing exists in the world, no heaven, no earth, no souls, no bodies. So why not also that I myself do not exist? Yet surely, if I could convince myself of anything, I existed.

But there is I know not what sort of Deceivour very powerful and very crafty, who always strives to deceive Me; without Doubt therefore I am, if he can decieve me; And let him Deceive me as much as he can, yet he can never make me not to Be, whilst I think that I am. Wherefore I may lay this down as a Principle, that whenever this sentence I am, I exist, is spoken or thought of by Me, ’tis necessarily True.

But there is some kind of deceiver, though I do not know what kind. He is very powerful and very cunning, and he always tries to deceive me. So, without doubt, I exist if he can deceive me. And let him deceive me as much as he can. Still, he can never make me not exist as long as I think that I exist. Therefore, I can establish this principle: whenever I say or think the sentence I am, I exist, it is necessarily true.

But I do not yet fully understand who I am that now necessarily exist, and I must hereafter take care, least I foolishly mistake some other thing for my self, and by that means be deceived in that thought, which I defend as the most certain and evident of all.

But I do not yet fully understand who I am, though I now necessarily exist. From now on, I must be careful not to foolishly mistake something else for myself. Otherwise, I could be deceived about the very thought that I defend as the most certain and evident of all.

Wherefore I will again Recollect, what I believed my self to be heretofore, before I had set upon these Meditations, from which Notion I will withdraw whatever may be Disproved by the Foremention’d Reasons, that in the End, That only may Remain which is True and indisputable.

So I will recall again what I believed myself to be before beginning these meditations. From this understanding, I will remove whatever may be disproved by the reasons given above. I will do this so that, in the end, only what is true and beyond dispute may remain.

What therefore have I heretofore thought my self? A Man. But what is a man? Shall I answer, a Rational Animal? By no means; because afterwards it may be asked, what an Animal is? and what Rational is? And so from one question I may fall into greater Difficulties; neither at present have I so much time as to spend it about such Niceties.

What, then, have I thought myself to be until now? A man. But what is a man? Should I answer, a rational animal? Certainly not, because then someone may ask what an animal is and what rational means. And so one question may lead me into greater difficulties. Nor do I now have enough time to spend on such fine distinctions.

But I shall rather here Consider, what heretofore represented it self to my thoughts freely, and naturally, whenever I set my self to understand What I my self was.

But here I will instead consider what used to come to mind freely and naturally whenever I tried to understand what I myself was.

And the first thing I find Representing it self is, that I have Face, Hands, Arms, and this whole frame of parts which is seen in my Body, and which I call my Body.

And the first thing that comes to mind is that I have a face, hands, and arms. I also have the whole structure of parts seen in my body, which I call my body.

The next thing represented to me was, that I was nourish’d, could walk, had senses, and could Think; which functions I attributed to my Soul. Yet what this soul of mine was, I did not fully conceive; or else supposed it a small thing like wind, or fire, or aire, infused through my stronger parts.

Next, I considered that I was nourished, could walk, had senses, and could think. I attributed these functions to my soul. Yet I did not fully understand what my soul was. Or else I imagined my soul as something small, like wind, fire, or air, spread throughout my more solid parts.

As to my Body truly I doubted not, but that I rightly understood its Nature, which (if I should endeavour to describe as I conceive it) I should thus Explain, viz. By a Body I mean whatever is capable of Shape, or can be contained in a place, and so fill’s a space that it excludes all other Bodys out of the same, that which may be touch’d, seen, heard, tasted, or smelt, and that which is capable of various Motions and Modifications, not from it self, but from any other thing moving it, for I judged it against (or rather above) the nature of a Body to move it self, or perceive, or think, But rather admired that I should find these Operations in certain Bodys.

As for my body, I had no doubt that I rightly understood its nature. If I tried to describe my body as I understood it, I would explain it this way. By a body, I mean anything capable of having a shape, or of being contained in a place. A body fills a space and excludes all other bodies from that space. A body can be touched, seen, heard, tasted, or smelled. A body is also capable of various movements and changes, caused not by itself but by some other thing moving it. For I thought it contrary to (or rather beyond) the nature of a body to move itself, perceive, or think. Rather, I was amazed to find these activities in certain bodies.

But How now (since I suppose a certain powerful and (if it be lawful to call him so) evil deluder, who useth all his endeavours to deceive me in all things) can I affirme that I have any of those things, which I have now said belong to the nature of a Body? Hold— Let me Consider—, Let me think—, Let me reflect— I can find no Answer, and I am weary with repeating the same things over-again in vain.

But now I suppose there is a powerful and (if I may call him that) evil deceiver. He does everything he can to deceive me in all things. So how can I claim to have any of the things I just said belong to the nature of a body? Wait. Let me consider. Let me think. Let me reflect. I can find no answer, and I am tired of repeating the same things over and over in vain.

But Which of these Faculties did I attribute to my Soul, my Nutritive, or Motive faculty? yet now seeing I have no Body, these also are meer delusions. Was it my sensitive faculty? But this also cannot be perform’d without a Body, and I have seem’d to perceive many things in my sleep, of which I afterwards understood my self not to be sensible. Was it my Cogitative Faculty? Here I have discovered it, ’tis my Thought, this alone cannot be separated from Me, I am, I exist,⸺tis true, but for what time Am I? Why I am as long as I think; For it May be that When I cease from thinking, I may cease from being. Now I admit of nothing but what is necessarily true: In short therefore I am only a thinking thing that is to say, a mind, or a soul, or understanding, or Reason, words which formerly I understood not; I am a Real thing, and Really Existent, But what sort of thing? I have just now said it, A thinking thing.

But which of these abilities did I attribute to my soul: my ability to nourish myself or to move? Yet now, since I have no body, these abilities too are mere illusions. Was it my ability to sense? But sensing also requires a body. And I have seemed to perceive many things in my sleep. I later realized that I had not actually sensed those things. Was it my ability to think? Here I have found the answer: my thought. Thought alone cannot be separated from me. I am, I exist. That is true, but how long do I exist? I exist as long as I think. For it may be that when I stop thinking, I may stop existing. Now I accept nothing but what is necessarily true. In short, therefore, I am only a thinking thing. That is, I am a mind, or a soul, or understanding, or reason. These are words that I did not understand before. I am a real thing, and I really exist. But what kind of thing? I have just said it: a thinking thing.

But am I nothing besides? I will consider⸺I am not that structure of parts, which is called a Mans Body, neither am I any sort of thin Air infused into those Parts, nor a Wind, nor Fire, nor Vapour, nor Breath, nor whatever I my self can feign, for all these things I have supposed not to Be. Yet my Position stands firm; Nevertheless I am something. Yet perhaps it so falls out that these very things which I suppose not to exist (because to me unknown) are in reallity nothing different from that very Self, which I know. I cannot tell, I dispute it not now, I can only give my opinion of those things whereof I have some knowledge. I am sure that I exist, I ask who I am whom I thus know, certainly, the knowledge, of Me (precisely taken) depends not on those things, whose existence I am yet ignorant of; and therefore not on any other things that I can feign by my imagination.

But am I anything else? I will consider this. I am not that structure of parts called a human body. Nor am I any kind of thin air poured into those parts. Nor am I wind, fire, vapor, breath, or anything else I can imagine. For I have supposed that all these things do not exist. Yet my position stands firm: Nevertheless, I am something. Yet perhaps the very things I suppose do not exist (because they are unknown to me) are no different from that very self I know. I cannot tell, and I will not debate this now. I can only give my opinion about things I have some knowledge of. I am sure that I exist. I ask who I am, this person I know exists. Certainly, knowledge of me (understood precisely) does not depend on things whose existence I am still unsure of. And therefore, it does not depend on anything else I can invent through my imagination.

And this very Word (feign) puts me in mind of my error, for I should feign in deed, if I should imagine my self any thing; for to imagine is nothing else but to think upon the shape or image of a corporeal thing; but now I certainly know that I am, and I know also that ’tis possible that all these images, and generally whatever belongs to the Nature of a Body are nothing but deluding Dreams. Which things Consider’d I should be no less Foolish in saying, I will imagine that I may more throughly understand what I am, then if I should say, at Present I am awake and perceive something true, but because it appears not evidently enough, I shall endeavour to sleep, that in a Dream I may perceive it more evidently and truely.

And this very word (pretend) reminds me of my error. For I would indeed pretend if I were to imagine myself as anything. To imagine is simply to think of the shape or image of a physical thing. But now I know for certain that I exist. I also know that all these images could be nothing but deceptive dreams. The same could be true of everything belonging to the nature of a body. In light of this, I would be foolish to say, I will imagine so I can understand myself more fully. That would be just as foolish as saying, Right now I am awake and perceive something true. But because I do not perceive it clearly enough, I will try to sleep. Then, in a dream, I may perceive it more clearly and truly.

Wherefore I know that nothing that I can comprehend by my imagination, can belong to the Notion I have of my self, and that I must carefully withdraw my mind from those things that it may more distinctly perceive its own Nature.

So I know that nothing I can grasp through my imagination belongs to my idea of myself. I must carefully set those things aside so my mind may more clearly perceive its own nature.

Let me ask therefore What I am, A Thinking Thing, but What is That? That is a thing, doubting, understanding, affirming, denying, willing, nilling, imagining also, and sensitive. These truely are not a few Properties, if they all belong to Me. And Why should they Not belong to me? For am not I the very same who at present doubt almost of All things; yet understand something, which thing onely I affirm to be true, I deny all other things, I am willing to know more, I would not be deceived, I imagine many things unwillingly, and consider many things as coming to me by my senses. Which of all these faculties is it, which is not as true as that I Exist, tho I should sleep, or my Creatour should as much as in him lay, strive to deceive Me? which of them is it that is distinct from my thought? which of them is it that can be seperated from me? For that I am the same that doubt, understand, and will is so evident, that I know not how to explain it more manifestly, and that I also am the same that imagine, for tho perhaps (as I have supposed) no thing that can be imagined is true, yet the imaginative Power it self is really existent, and makes up a part of my Thought; and last of all that I am the same that am sensitive, or perceive corporeal things as by my senses, yet that I now see light, hear a noise, feel heat, these things are false, for I suppose my self asleep, but I know that I see, hear, and am heated, that cannot be false; and this it is that in me is properly called Sense, and this strictly taken is the same with thought.

Let me ask, then, what am I? A thinking thing. But what does that mean? It means a thing that is doubting, understanding, affirming, denying, willing, unwilling, imagining too, and sensing. These are certainly quite a few properties, if they all belong to me. And why should they not belong to me? For am I not the very same person who now doubts almost everything? Yet I understand something, and that alone I affirm to be true. I deny everything else. I am willing to know more, and I do not want to be deceived. I imagine many things unwillingly, and I consider many things as reaching me through my senses. Which of these abilities is not as certain as the fact that I exist? Would any be less certain even if I were asleep, or my Creator tried his hardest to deceive me? Which of these abilities is distinct from my thought? Which can be separated from me? For it is so evident that I am the one who doubts, understands, and wills. I do not know how to explain this more clearly. And I am also the one who imagines. For perhaps, as I have supposed, nothing that can be imagined is real. Yet the power of imagination itself really exists and forms part of my thought. Finally, I am also the one who senses, or perceives bodily things as though through my senses. Yet my claims that I now see light, hear a noise, and feel heat are false. For I am supposing that I am asleep. But I am aware that I seem to see, hear, and feel hot. That awareness cannot be false. This is what, in me, is properly called sensation. And sensation, understood strictly in this way, is the same as thought.

By these Considerations I begin a little better to understand My self what I am; But yet it seems, and I cannot but think that Corporeal Things (whose Images are formed in my thought, and which by my senses, I perceive) are much more distinctly known, then that confused Notion of My Self which imagination cannot afford me. And yet ’tis strange that things doubtful, unknown, distinct from Me, should be apprehended more clearly by Me, then a Thing that is True, then a thing that is known, or then I my self; But the Reason is, that my Mind loves to wander, and suffers not it self to be bounded within the strict limits of Truth.

These reflections help me understand myself a little better and see what I am. Yet it seems, and I cannot help but think, that physical things are much more clearly known to me than my confused idea of myself. These are things whose images form in my thought and that I perceive through my senses. Yet imagination cannot give me that idea of myself. And still, it is strange that I should grasp things that are doubtful, unknown, and separate from me more clearly than something true, something known, or I myself. But the reason is that my mind loves to wander and will not stay within the strict limits of truth.

Let it therefore Wander, and once more let me give it the Free Reins, that hereafter being conveniently curbed, it may suffer it self to be more easily Govern’d.

So let it wander, and let me give it free rein once more. That way, when properly restrained later, it may more readily allow itself to be controlled.

Let me consider those things which of all Things I formerly conceived most evident, that is to say, Bodies which we touch, which we see, not bodies in General (for those General Conceptions are usually Confused) but some one Body in particular.

Let me consider what I once thought was most evident of all things: bodies we touch and see. I mean not bodies in general (since general ideas are usually confused), but one particular body.

Let us chuse for example this piece of Bees-wax, it was lately taken from the Comb, it has not yet lost all the tast of the Honey, it retains something of the smell of the Flowers from whence ’twas gather’d, its colour, shape, and bigness are manifest, ’tis hard, ’tis cold, ’tis easily felt, and if you will knock it with your finger, ’twill make a noise: In fine, it hath all things requisite to the most perfect notion of a Body.

Let us take this piece of beeswax as an example. It was recently taken from the honeycomb. It has not yet lost all the taste of the honey. It still has some of the scent of the flowers from which the honey was gathered. Its color, shape, and size are clear. The wax is hard, cold, and easy to feel. And if you tap it with your finger, it will make a sound. In short, it has everything needed for the most complete idea of a physical body.

But behold whilst I am speaking, ’tis put to the Fire, its tast is purged away, the smell is vanish’d, the colour is changed, the shape is alter’d, its bulk is increased, its become soft, ’tis hot, it can scarce be felt, and now (though you strike it) it makes no noise. Does it yet continue the same Wax? surely it does, this all confess, no one denies it, no one doubts it. What therefore was there in it that was so evidently known? surely none of those things which I perceived by my senses; for what I smelt, tasted, have seen, felt, or heard, are all vanish’d, and yet the Wax remains. Perhaps ’twas this only that I now think on, viz. that the Wax it self was not that tast of Honey, that smell of Flowers, that whiteness, that shape, or that sound, but it was a Body which awhile before appear’d to me so and so modified, but now otherwise. But what is it strictly that I thus imagine? let me consider: And having rejected whatever belongs not to the Wax, let me see what will remain, viz. this only, a thing extended, flexible, and mutable. But what is this flexible, and mutable? is it that I imagine that this Wax from being round may be made square, or from being square can be made triangular? No, this is not it; for I conceive it capable of innumerable such changes, and yet I cannot by my imagination run over these Innumerables; Wherefore this notion of its mutability proceeds not from my imagination. What then is extended? is not its Extension also unknown? For when it melts ’tis greater, when it boils ’tis greater, and yet greater when the heat is increas’d; and I should not rightly judge of the Wax, did I not think it capable of more various Extensions than I can imagine. It remains therefore for me only to confess, that I cannot imagine what this Wax is, but that I perceive with my Mind what it is. I speak of this particular Wax, for of Wax in general the notion is more clear.

But look, while I am speaking, the wax is put near the fire. Its taste disappears, its smell vanishes, its color changes, its shape alters, and its size increases. It becomes soft and hot, and can hardly be touched. Now, even if you strike it, it makes no sound. Does it still remain the same wax? Surely it does. Everyone admits this, no one denies it, and no one doubts it. What, then, was so clearly known about the wax? Surely none of the things I perceived through my senses. For everything I smelled, tasted, saw, touched, or heard has vanished, yet the wax remains. Perhaps the wax was only what I now think it is. That is, the wax itself was not that taste of honey, that smell of flowers, that whiteness, that shape, or that sound. Rather, it was a body that appeared to me a moment ago with certain qualities, but now with different ones. But what exactly am I imagining here? Let me consider. After setting aside whatever does not belong to the wax, let me see what remains. That is, only this: a thing that occupies space, is flexible, and is changeable. But what does flexible and changeable mean here? Does it mean I imagine that this wax can change from round to square, or from square to triangular? No, that is not it. For I understand that the wax is capable of countless such changes. Yet my imagination cannot run through these countless possibilities. So my idea of its capacity for change does not come from my imagination. What, then, does occupying space mean? Is not the wax's extension in space also unknown? For when the wax melts, it becomes larger. When it boils, it becomes larger still, and larger again when the heat increases. I would not judge the wax correctly unless I thought it capable of more varied extensions than I can imagine. So I must admit that I cannot imagine what this wax is. Instead, I perceive what it is with my mind. I am speaking of this particular wax, for the idea of wax in general is clearer.

But what Wax is this that I only conceive by my mind? ’Tis the same which I see, which I touch, which I imagine, and in fine, the same which at first I judged it to be. But this is to be noted, that the perception thereof is not sight, the touch, or the imagination thereof; neither was it ever so, though at first it seem’d so. But the perception thereof is the inspection or beholding of the Mind only, which may be either imperfect and confused, as formerly it was; or clear and distinct, as now it is; the more or the less I consider the Composition of the Wax.

But what is this wax that I grasp through my mind alone? It is the same wax I see, touch, and imagine. In short, it is the same wax I first judged it to be. But note that the perception of the wax is not sight, touch, or imagination. Nor was it ever, though at first it seemed to be. Rather, the perception of the wax is the inspection or examination of the wax by the mind alone. This mental examination may be imperfect and confused, as it was before. Or it may be clear and distinct, as it is now. This depends on whether I consider the composition of the wax more or less closely.

In the interim, I cannot but admire how prone my mind is to erre; for though I revolve these things with my self silently, and without speaking, yet am I intangled in meer words, and am almost deceived by the usual way of expression; for we commonly say, that we see the Wax it self if it be present, and not, that we judge it present by its colour or shape; from whence I should immediately thus conclude, therefore the Wax is known by the sight of the eye, and not by the inspection of the mind only. Thus I should have concluded, had not I by chance look’d out of my window, and seen men passing by in the Street; which men I as usually say that I see, as I do now, that I see this Wax; and yet I see nothing but their Hair and Garments, which perhaps may cover only artificial Machines and movements, but I judge them to be men; so that what I thought I only saw with my eyes, I comprehend by my Judicative Faculty, which is my Soul. But it becomes not one, who desires to be wiser than the Vulgar, to draw matter of doubt from those ways of expression, which the Vulgar have invented.

Meanwhile, I cannot help marveling at how easily my mind goes wrong. Although I think these things over silently and without speaking, I still get caught up in mere words. I am almost deceived by ordinary ways of speaking. For we commonly say that we see the wax itself when it is present. We do not say that we judge it to be present by its color or shape. From this, I would immediately conclude that the wax is known through the sight of the eye. I would not think it known only through the examination of the mind. I would have reached this conclusion if I had not happened to look out my window. I saw men passing in the street. I usually say that I see these men, just as I now say that I see this wax. Yet I see nothing but their hair and clothing, which perhaps cover only artificial machines and mechanisms. But I judge them to be men. So what I thought I merely saw with my eyes, I understand through my power of judgment. This power is my soul. But someone who wants to be wiser than ordinary people should not find grounds for doubt in their everyday expressions.

Wherefore let us proceed and consider, whether I perceived more perfectly and evidently what the Wax was, when I first look’d on’t, and believed that I knew it by my outward senses, or at least by my common sense (as they call it) that is to say, by my imagination; or whether at present I better understand it, after I have more diligently enquired both what it is, and how it may be known. Surely it would be a foolish thing to make it matter of doubt to know which of these parts are true; What was there in my first perception that was distinct? What was there that seem’d not incident to every other Animal? But now when I distinguish the Wax from its outward adherents, and consider it as if it were naked, with it’s coverings pull’d off, then I cannot but really perceive it with my mind, though yet perhaps my judgment may erre.

So let us consider when I perceived the Wax more fully and clearly. Was it when I first saw the Wax and believed I knew it through my outward senses? Or at least through my common sense (as people call it), meaning through my imagination? Or do I now understand it better, after examining more carefully both what it is and how it can be known? Surely it would be foolish to doubt which of these alternatives is true. What was distinct in my first perception? What was there that any other animal could not also perceive? But now I distinguish the Wax from its outward features. I consider the Wax as if it were naked, stripped of its coverings. Then I cannot help truly perceiving the Wax with my mind, though perhaps my judgment may still be mistaken.

But what shall I now say as to my mind, or my self? (for as yet I admit nothing as belonging to me but a mind.) Why (shall I say?) should not I, who seem to perceive this Wax so distinctly, know my self not only more truly and more certainly, but more distinctly and evidently? For if I judge that this Wax exists, because I see this Wax; surely it will be much more evident, that I my self exist, because I see this Wax; for it may be that this that I see is not really Wax, also it may be that I have no eyes wherewith to see any thing; but it cannot be, when I see, or (which is the same thing) when I think that I see, that I who think should not exist. The same thing will follow if I judge that this Wax exists, because I touch, or imagine it, &c. And what has been said of Wax, may be apply’d to all other outward things.

But what shall I now say about my mind, or my self? (For now, I accept that nothing belongs to me except a mind.) Why should I, who seem to perceive this Wax so distinctly, not know my self better? Should I not know myself not only more truly and more certainly, but also more distinctly and clearly? For if I judge that this Wax exists because I see this Wax, something else must be much more evident. Surely I myself exist because I see this Wax. For what I see may not really be Wax. I may also have no eyes with which to see anything. But when I see, or (what amounts to the same thing) when I think that I see, I must exist. It cannot be that I who think do not exist. The same conclusion follows if I judge that this Wax exists because I touch or imagine it, and so on. And what I have said about Wax can be applied to all other external things.

Moreover, if the notion of Wax seems more distinct after it is made known to me, not only by my sight or touch, but by more and other causes; How much the more distinctly must I confess my self known unto my self, seeing that all sort of reasoning which furthers me in the perception of Wax, or any other Body, does also encrease the proofs of the nature of my Mind. But there are so many more things in the very Mind it self, by which the notion of it may be made more distinct, that those things which drawn from Body conduce to its knowledge are scarce to be mention’d.

Moreover, if my idea of Wax becomes more distinct through sight or touch and also through other causes, how much more clearly must I acknowledge that I know myself? For all reasoning that helps me in my perception of Wax, or any other Body, also strengthens the evidence about the nature of my Mind. But there are so many more things within the Mind itself that can make my idea of it more distinct. The insights drawn from Body that help me understand my mind are therefore hardly worth mentioning.

And now behold of my own accord am I come to the place I would be in; for seeing I have now discover’d that Bodies themselves are not properly perceived by our senses or imagination, but only by our understanding, and are not therefore perceived, because they are felt or seen, but because they are understood; it plainly appears to me, that nothing can possibly be perceived by me easier, or more evidently, than my Mind.

And now, of my own accord, I have reached the point I wanted to reach. For I have now discovered that bodies themselves are not properly perceived through our senses or imagination. Bodies are perceived only through our understanding. So bodies are not perceived because they are felt or seen, but because they are understood. It therefore seems clear to me that I cannot possibly perceive anything more easily, or more clearly, than my mind.

But because I cannot so soon shake off the Acquaintance of my former Opinion, I am willing to stop here, that this my new knowledge may be better fixt in my memory the longer I meditate thereon.

But because I cannot so quickly let go of my familiar old opinion, I am willing to pause here. That way, the longer I reflect on my new knowledge, the more firmly it may settle in my memory.