This document is the table of contents for an introduction to philosophy reader from 2017-18. It lists 13 chapters covering major works and thinkers in the history of philosophy, including Plato, Aristotle, Descartes, Locke, Schopenhauer, James, Mill, Anselm of Canterbury, and Thomas Aquinas. The first entry provides an excerpt from Plato's "Allegory of the Cave," describing prisoners chained in a cave seeing only shadows on the wall and the process of being released and seeing true forms in the light outside the cave.

1. Introduction to
Philosophy
Reader
2017-18

2. Table of Contents
1. Plato. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Allegory of the Cave
2. Plato. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Republic:Book 9
3. Plato on Forms………………..The Republic:Book10
4. Aristotle. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Nicomachean Ethics
5. Aristotle. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Four Causes
6. Rene Descartes.. . . . . . . . . . First Meditation
7. John Locke ………………An Essay on Human Understanding
8. Arthur Schopenahauer. . . . . . On the Freedom of the Will
9. William James……………….“The Dilemma of Determinism”
10. Selectionfrom IEP on John Stuart Mill … “Freedom of Will”
11. St. Anselm of Canterbury ………………..Proslogion
12. St. Thomas Aquinas …………..SummaTheologica - Part 1
13. St. Thomas Aquinas. . . . . . . . Disputed Questions on Virtue

3. 1.
Plato’s
The Allegory of the Cave
And now, I said, let me show in a figure [of speech] how far our nature is enlightened or unenlightened:—Behold! Human
beings living in a underground den, which has a mouth open towards the light and reaching all along the den; here they
have been from their childhood, and have their legs and necks chained so that they cannot move, and can only see
before them, being prevented by the chains from turning round their heads. Above and behind them a fire is blazing at a
distance, and between the fire and the prisoners there is a raised way; and you will see, if you look, a low wall built along
the way, like the screen which marionette players have in front of them, over which they show the puppets.
I see.
And do you see, I said, men passing along the wall carrying all sorts of vessels, and statues and figures of animals made
of wood and stone and various materials, which appear over the wall? Some of them are talking, others silent.
You have shown me a strange image, and they are strange prisoners.
Like ourselves, I replied; and they see only their own shadows, or the shadows of one another, which the fire throws on
the opposite wall of the cave?
True, he said; how could they see anything but the shadows if they were never allowed to move their heads?
And of the objects which are being carried in like manner they would only see the shadows?
Yes, he said.
And if they were able to converse with one another, would they not suppose that they were naming what was actually
before them?
Very true.
And suppose further that the prison had an echo which came from the other side, would they not be sure to fancy when
one of the passers-by spoke that the voice which they heard came from the passing shadow?
No question, he replied.
To them, I said, the truth would be literally nothing but the shadows of the images.
That is certain.
And now look again, and see what will naturally follow if the prisoners are released and disabused of their error. At first,
when any of them is liberated and compelled suddenly to stand up and turn his neck round and walk and look towards the
light, he will suffer sharp pains; the glare will distress him, and he will be unable to see the realities of which in his former
state he had seen the shadows; and then conceive someone saying to him, that what he saw before was an illusion, but
that now, when he is approaching nearer to being and his eye is turned towards more real existence, he has a clearer

4. vision, what will be his reply? And you may further imagine that his instructor is pointing to the objects as they pass and
requiring him to name them,—will he not be perplexed? Will he not fancy that the shadows which he formerly saw are
truer than the objects which are now shown to him?
Far truer.
And if he is compelled to look straight at the light, will he not have a pain in his eyes which will make him turn away to take
refuge in the objects of vision which he can see, and which he will conceive to be in reality clearer than the things which
are now being shown to him?
True, he said.
And suppose once more, that he is reluctantly dragged up a steep and rugged ascent, and held fast until he’s forced into
the presence of the sun himself, is he not likely to be pained and irritated? When he approaches the light his eyes will be
dazzled, and he will not be able to see anything at all of what are now called realities.
Not all in a moment, he said.
He will require to grow accustomed to the sight of the upper world. And first he will see the shadows best, next the
reflections of men and other objects in the water, and then the objects themselves; then he will gaze upon the light of the
moon and the stars and the spangled heaven; and he will see the sky and the stars by night better than the sun or the
light of the sun by day?
Certainly.
Last of all he will be able to see the sun, and not mere reflections of him in the water, but he will see him in his own proper
place, and not in another; and he will contemplate him as he is.
Certainly.
He will then proceed to argue that this is he who gives the season and the years, and is the guardian of all that is in the
visible world, and in a certain way the cause of all things which he and his fellows have been accustomed to behold?
Clearly, he said, he would first see the sun and then reason about him.
And when he remembered his old habitation, and the wisdom of the den and his fellow-prisoners, do you not suppose that
he would felicitate himself on the change, and pity them?
Certainly, he would.
And if they were in the habit of conferring honors among themselves on those who were quickest to observe the passing
shadows and to remark which of them went before, and which followed after, and which were together; and who were
therefore best able to draw conclusions as to the future, do you think that he would care for such honors and glories, or
envy the possessors of them? Would he not say with Homer, “Better to be the poor servant of a poor master,” and to
endure anything, rather than think as they do and live after their manner?

5. Yes, he said, I think that he would rather suffer anything than entertain these false notions and live in this miserable
manner.
Imagine once more, I said, such an one coming suddenly out of the sun to be replaced in his old situation; would he not
be certain to have his eyes full of darkness?
To be sure, he said.
And if there were a contest, and he had to compete in measuring the shadows with the prisoners who had never moved
out of the den, while his sight was still weak, and before his eyes had become steady (and the time which would be
needed to acquire this new habit of sight might be very considerable) would he not be ridiculous? Men would say of him
that up he went and down he came without his eyes; and that it was better not even to think of ascending; and if any one
tried to loose another and lead him up to the light, let them only catch the offender, and they would put him t o death.
No question, he said.
This entire allegory, I said, you may now append, dear Glaucon, to the previous argument; the prison-house is the world
of sight, the light of the fire is the sun, and you will not misapprehend me if you interpret the journey upwards to be the
ascent of the soul into the intellectual world according to my poor belief, which, at your desire, I have expressed whether
rightly or wrongly God knows. But, whether true or false, my opinion is that in the world of knowledge the idea of good
appears last of all, and is seen only with an effort; and, when seen, is also inferred to be the universal author of all things
beautiful and right, parent of light and of the lord of light in this visible world, and the immediate source of reason and truth
in the intellectual; and that this is the power upon which he who would act rationally, either in public or private life must
have his eye fixed.
I agree, he said, as far as I am able to understand you.
Moreover, I said, you must not wonder that those who attain to this beatific vision are unwilling to descend to human
affairs; for their souls are ever hastening into the upper world where they desire to dwell; which desire of theirs is very
natural, if our allegory may be trusted.
Yes, very natural.
And is there anything surprising in one who passes from divine contemplations to the evil state of man, misbehaving
himself in a ridiculous manner; if, while his eyes are blinking and before he has become accustomed to the surrounding
darkness, he is compelled to fight in courts of law, or in other places, about the images or the shadows of images of
justice, and is endeavoring to meet the conceptions of those who have never yet seen absolute justice?
Anything but surprising, he replied.
Anyone who has common sense will remember that the bewilderments of the eyes are of two kinds, and arise from two
causes, either from coming out of the light or from going into the light, which is true of the mind’s eye, quite as much as of
the bodily eye; and he who remembers this when he sees any one whose vision is perplexed and weak, will not be too
ready to laugh; he will first ask whether that soul of man has come out of the brighter light, and is unable to see because

6. unaccustomed to the dark, or having turned from darkness to the day is dazzled by excess of light. And he will count the
one happy in his condition and state of being, and he will pity the other; or, if he have a mind to laugh at the soul which
comes from below into the light, there will be more reason in this than in the laugh which greets him who returns from
above out of the light into the den.
That, he said, is a very just distinction.
But then, if I am right, certain professors of education must be wrong when they say that they can put a knowledge into
the soul which was not there before, like sight into blind eyes.
They undoubtedly say this, he replied.
Whereas, our argument shows that the power and capacity of learning exists in the soul already; and that just as the eye
was unable to turn from darkness to light without the whole body, so too the instrument of knowledge can only by the
movement of the whole soul be turned from the world of becoming into that of being, and learn by degrees to endure the
sight of being, and of the brightest and best of being, or in other words, of the good.
Very true.
And must there not be some art which will effect conversion in the easiest and quickest manner; not implanting the faculty
of sight, for that exists already, but has been turned in the wrong direction, and is looking away from the truth?
Yes, he said, such an art may be presumed.
And whereas the other so-called virtues of the soul seem to be akin to bodily qualities, for even when they are not
originally innate they can be implanted later by habit and exercise, the virtue of wisdom more than anything else contains
a divine element which always remains, and by this conversion is rendered useful and profitable; or, on the other hand,
hurtful and useless. Did you never observe the narrow intelligence flashing from the keen eye of a clever rogue—how
eager he is, how clearly his paltry soul sees the way to his end; he is the reverse of blind, but his keen eyesight is forced
into the service of evil, and he is mischievous in proportion to his cleverness.
Very true, he said.
But what if there had been a circumcision of such natures in the days of their youth; and they had been severed from
those sensual pleasures, such as eating and drinking, which, like leaden weights, were attached to them at their birth, and
which drag them down and turn the vision of their souls upon the things that are below—if, I say, they had been released
from these impediments and turned in the opposite direction, the very same faculty in them would have seen the truth as
keenly as they see what their eyes are turned to now.
Very likely.
Yes, I said; and there is another thing which is likely, or rather a necessary inference from what has preceded, that neither
the uneducated and uninformed of the truth, nor yet those who never make an end of their education, will be able
ministers of State; not the former, because they have no single aim of duty which is the rule of all their actions, private as

7. well as public; nor the latter, because they will not act at all except upon compulsion, fancying that they are already
dwelling apart in the islands of the blest.
Very true, he replied.
Then, I said, the business of us who are the founders of the State will be to compel the best minds to attain that
knowledge which we have already shown to be the greatest of all—they must continue to ascend until they arrive at the
good; but when they have ascended and seen enough we must not allow them to do as they do now.
What do you mean?
I mean that they remain in the upper world: but this must not be allowed; they must be made to descend again among the
prisoners in the den, and partake of their labors and honors, whether they are worth having or not.
But is not this unjust? he said; ought we to give them a worse life, when they might have a better?
You have again forgotten, my friend, I said, the intention of the legislator, who did not aim at making any one class in the
State happy above the rest; the happiness was to be in the whole State, and he held the citizens together by persuasion
and necessity, making them benefactors of the State, and therefore benefactors of one another; to this end he created
them, not to please themselves, but to be his instruments in binding up the State.
True, he said, I had forgotten.
Observe, Glaucon, that there will be no injustice in compelling our philosophers to have a care and providence of others;
we shall explain to them that in other States, men of their class are not obliged to share in the toils of politics: and this is
reasonable, for they grow up at their own sweet will, and the government would rather not have them. Being self-taught,
they cannot be expected to show any gratitude for a culture which they have never received. But we have brought you
into the world to be rulers of the hive, kings of yourselves and of the other citizens, and have educated you far better and
more perfectly than they have been educated, and you are better able to share in the double duty. Wherefore each of you,
when his turn comes, must go down to the general underground abode, and get the habit of seeing in the dark. When you
have acquired the habit, you will see ten thousand times better than the inhabitants of the den, and you will know what the
several images are, and what they represent, because you have seen the beautiful and just and good in their truth. And
thus our State which is also yours will be a reality, and not a dream only, and will be administered in a spirit unlike that of
other States, in which men fight with one another about shadows only and are distracted in the struggle for power, which
in their eyes is a great good. Whereas the truth is that the State in which the rulers are most reluctant to govern is always
the best and most quietly governed, and the State in which they are most eager, the worst.
Quite true, he replied.
And will our pupils, when they hear this, refuse to take their turn at the toils of State, when they are allowed to spend the
greater part of their time with one another in the heavenly light?
Impossible, he answered; for they are just men, and the commands which we impose upon them are just; there can be no
doubt that every one of them will take office as a stern necessity, and not after the fashion of our present rulers of State.

8. Document Analysis from Salem Press
Plato,. "Plato’s “Allegory of the Cave”: The Full Text." Milestone Documents in World History. Ed. Brian Bonhomme
and Cathleen Boivin. Hackensack: Salem, 2010. n. pag. Salem Online. Web. 04 May. 2017.
<http://online.salempress.com>.

9. 2.
Plato
The Republic: Book 9
(Excerpt)
The second proof is derived from the nature of the soul: seeing that the individual soul, like the State, has been divided by
us into three principles, the division may, I think, furnish a new demonstration.
Of what nature?
It seems to me that to these three principles three pleasures correspond; also three desires and governing powers.
How do you mean? he said.
There is one principle with which, as we were saying, a man learns, another with which he is angry; the third, having many
forms, has no special name, but is denoted by the general term appetitive, from the extraordinary strength and
vehemence of the desires of eating and drinking and the other sensual appetites which are the main elements of it; also
money-loving, because such desires are generally satisfied by the help of money.
That is true, he said.
If we were to say that the loves and pleasures of this third part were concerned with gain, we should then be able to fall
back on a single notion; and might truly and intelligibly describe this part of the soul as loving gain or money.
I agree with you.
Again, is not the passionate element wholly set on ruling and conquering and getting fame?
True.
Suppose we call it the contentious or ambitious --would the term be suitable?
Extremely suitable.
On the other hand, every one sees that the principle of knowledge is wholly directed to the truth, and cares less than
either of the others for gain or fame.
Far less.
'Lover of wisdom,' 'lover of knowledge,' are titles which we may fitly apply to that part of the soul?
Certainly.
One principle prevails in the souls of one class of men, another in others, as may happen?
Yes.
Then we may begin by assuming that there are three classes of men--lovers of wisdom, lovers of honour, lovers of gain?
Exactly.
And there are three kinds of pleasure, which are their several objects?
Very true.
Now, if you examine the three classes of men, and ask of them in turn which of their lives is pleasantest, each will be
found praising his own and depreciating that of others: the money-maker will contrast the vanity of honour or of learning if
they bring no money with the solid advantages of gold and silver?
True, he said.
And the lover of honour --what will be his opinion? Will he not think that the pleasure of riches is vulgar, while the pleasure
of learning, if it brings no distinction, is all smoke and nonsense to him?

10. Very true.
And are we to suppose, I said, that the philosopher sets any value on other pleasures in comparison with the pleasure of
knowing the truth, and in that pursuit abiding, ever learning, not so far indeed from the heaven of pleasure? Does he not
call the other pleasures necessary, under the idea that if there were no necessity for them, he would rather not have
them?
There can be no doubt of that, he replied.
Since, then, the pleasures of each class and the life of each are in dispute, and the question is not which life is more or
less honourable, or better or worse, but which is the more pleasant or painless --how shall we know who speaks truly?
I cannot myself tell, he said.
Well, but what ought to be the criterion? Is any better than experience and wisdom and reason?
There cannot be a better, he said.
Then, I said, reflect. Of the three individuals, which has the greatest experience of all the pleasures which we
enumerated? Has the lover of gain, in learning the nature of essential truth, greater experience of the pleasure of
knowledge than the philosopher has of the pleasure of gain?
The philosopher, he replied, has greatly the advantage; for he has of necessity always known the taste of the other
pleasures from his childhood upwards: but the lover of gain in all his experience has not of necessity tas ted --or, I should
rather say, even had he desired, could hardly have tasted --the sweetness of learning and knowing truth.
Then the lover of wisdom has a great advantage over the lover of gain, for he has a double experience?
Yes, very great.
Again, has he greater experience of the pleasures of honour, or the lover of honour of the pleasures of wisdom?
Nay, he said, all three are honoured in proportion as they attain their object; for the rich man and the brave man and the
wise man alike have their crowd of admirers, and as they all receive honour they all have experience of the pleasures of
honour; but the delight which is to be found in the knowledge of true being is known to the philosopher only.
His experience, then, will enable him to judge better than any one?
Far better.
And he is the only one who has wisdom as well as experience?
Certainly.
Further, the very faculty which is the instrument of judgment is not possessed by the covetous or ambitious man, but only
by the philosopher?
What faculty?
Reason, with whom, as we were saying, the decision ought to rest.
Yes.
And reasoning is peculiarly his instrument?
Certainly.
If wealth and gain were the criterion, then the praise or blame of the lover of gain would surely be the most trustworthy?
Assuredly.
Or if honour or victory or courage, in that case the judgement of the ambitious or pugnacious would be the truest?
Clearly.
But since experience and wisdom and reason are the judges--

11. The only inference possible, he replied, is that pleasures which are approved by the lover of wisdom and reason are the
truest. And so we arrive at the result, that the pleasure of the intelligent part of the soul is the pleasantest of the three, and
that he of us in whom this is the ruling principle has the pleasantest life.
Unquestionably, he said, the wise man speaks with authority when he approves of his own life.
Plato. “The Republic.” Translated by Benjamin Jowett, The Internet Classics Archive , Daniel C. Stevenson, 2000,
classics.mit.edu/Plato/republic.10.ix.html. Accessed 5 July 2017.

12. 3.
The Republic: Book 10
PLATO’S FORMS
“Listen, then, or rather, answer my question.”
“Ask it,” he said.
“Could you tell me in general what imitation is? For neither do I myself quite apprehend what it would
be at.”
“It is likely, then,10” he said, “that I should apprehend!”
“It would be nothing strange,” said I, “since it often happens [596a] that the dimmer vision sees
things in advance of the keener.11”
“That is so,” he said; “but in your presence I could not even be eager to try to state anything that
appears to me, but do you yourself consider it. Shall we, then, start the inquiry at this point by our
customary procedure12? We are in the habit, I take it, of positing a single idea or form13 in the case of
the various multiplicities to which we give the same name. Do you not understand?”
“I do.”
“In the present case, then, let us take any multiplicity you please; [596b] for example, there are many
couches and tables.”
“Of course.”
“But these utensils imply, I suppose, only two ideas or forms, one of a couch and one of a table.”
“Yes.”
“And are we not also in the habit of saying that the craftsman who produces either of them fixes his
eyes14 on the idea or form, and so makes in the one case the couches and in the other the tables that
we use, and similarly of other things? For surely no craftsman makes the idea itself. How could he?”
“By no means.”
“And in what way,19
I ask you,” he said.
“But now consider [596c] what name you would give to this craftsman.”
“What one?”
“Him who makes all the things15 that all handicraftsmen severally produce.”
“A truly clever and wondrous man you tell of.”
“Ah, but wait,16 and you will say so indeed, for this same handicraftsman is not only able to make all
implements, but he produces all plants and animals, including himself,17 and thereto earth and
heaven and the gods and all things in heaven and in Hades under the earth.”
“A most marvellous sophist,18“ [596d] he said.

13. “Are you incredulous?” said I. “Tell me, do you deny altogether the possibility of such a craftsman, or
do you admit that in a sense there could be such a creator of all these things, and in another sense
not? Or do you not perceive that you yourself would be able to make all these things in a way?”
“There is no difficulty,” said I, “but it is something that the craftsman can make everywhere and
quickly. You could do it most quickly if you should choose to take a mirror and carry it about
everywhere. [596e] You will speedily produce the sun and all the things in the sky, and speedily the
earth and yourself and the other animals and implements and plants and all the objects of which we
just now spoke.”
“Yes,” he said, “the appearance of them, but not the reality and the truth.”
“Excellent,” said I, “and you come to the aid of the argument opportunely. For I take it that the painter
too belongs to this class of producers, does he not?”
“Of course.”
“But you will say, I suppose, that his creations are not real and true. And yet, after a fashion, the
painter20 too makes a couch, does he not?”
“Yes,” he said, “the appearance of one, he too.” [597a]
“What of the cabinet-maker? Were you not just now saying that he does not make the idea or form
which we say is the real couch, the couch in itself,21 but only some particular couch?”
“Yes, I was.”
“Then if he does not make that which really is, he could not be said to make real being but something
that resembles real being but is not that. But if anyone should say that being in the complete sense22
belongs to the work of the cabinet-maker or to that of any other handicraftsman, it seems that he
would say what is not true.”
“That would be the view,” he said, “of those who are versed23 in this kind of reasoning.” “We must not
be surprised, then, if this too is only a dim adumbration in comparison with reality.” [597b]
“No, we must not.”
“Shall we, then, use these very examples in our quest for the true nature of this imitator?”
“If you please,” he said.
“We get, then, these three couches, one, that in nature24 which, I take it, we would say that God
produces,25 or who else?”
“No one, I think.”
“And then there was one which the carpenter made.”
“Yes,” he said.
“And one which the painter. Is not that so?”
“So be it.”

14. “The painter, then, the cabinet-maker, and God, there are these three presiding over three kinds of
couches.”
“Yes,three.” [597c]
“Now God,whether because he so willed or because some compulsion was laid upon him26 not to
make more than one couch in nature, so wrought and created one only,27 the couch which really and
in itself is. But two or more such were never created by God and never will come into being.”
“How so?” he said.
“Because,” said I, “if he should make only two, there would again appear one of which they both
would possess the form or idea, and that would be the couch that really is in and of itself, and not the
other two.”
“Right,” he said.
“God, then, I take it, knowing this and wishing [597d] to be the real author of the couch that has real
being and not of some particular couch, nor yet a particular cabinet-maker, produced it in nature
unique.”
“So it seems.”
“Shall we, then, call him its true and natural begetter, or something of the kind?”
“That would certainly be right,” he said, “since it is by and in nature28 that he has made this and all
other things.”
“And what of the carpenter? Shall we not call him the creator of a couch?”
“Yes.”
“Shall we also say that the painter is the creator and maker of that sort of thing?”
“By no means.”
“What will you say he is in relation to the couch?” [597e]
“This,” said he, “seems to me the most reasonable designation for him, that he is the imitator of the
thing which those others produce.”
“Very good,” said I; “the producer of the product three removes29 from nature you call the imitator?”
“By all means,” he said.
“This, then, will apply to the maker of tragedies also, if he is an imitator and is in his nature three
removes from the king and the truth, as are all other imitators.”
“It would seem so.”
“We are in agreement, then, about the imitator. [598a] But tell me now this about the painter. Do you
think that what he tries to imitate is in each case that thing itself in nature or the works of the
craftsmen?”
“The works of the craftsmen,” he said.
“Is it the reality of them or the appearance? Define that further point.30”

15. “What do you mean?” he said.
“This: Does a couch differ from itself according as you view it from the side or the front or in any other
way? Or does it differ not at all in fact though it appears different, and so of other things?”
“That is the way of it,” he said: “it appears other but differs not at all.” [598b]
“Consider, then, this very point. To which is painting directed in every case, to the imitation of reality
as it is31 or of appearance as it appears? Is it an imitation of a phantasm or of the truth?”
“Of a phantasm,32” he said.
“Then the mimetic art is far removed33 from truth, and this, it seems, is the reason why it can produce
everything, because it touches or lays hold of only a small part of the object and that a phantom34; as,
for example, a painter, we say, will paint us a cobbler, a carpenter, and other craftsmen, [598c]
though he himself has no expertness in any of these arts,35 but nevertheless if he were a good
painter, by exhibiting at a distance his picture of a carpenter he would deceive children and foolish
men,36 and make them believe it to be a real carpenter.”

16. 4.
Aristotle’s
Nicomachean Ethics
http://classics.mit.edu/Aristotle/nicomachaen.html

17. 5.
Aristotle
Four Causes
http://classics.mit.edu/Aristotle/metaphysics.12.xii.html
Excerpts:
Book I: Part 1
"ALL men by nature desire to know. An indication of this is the delight
we take in our senses;for even apart from their usefulness they are
loved for themselves;and above all others the sense of sight. For
not only with a view to action, but even when we are not going to
do anything, we preferseeing (one might say) to everything else.
The reason is that this, most of all the senses,makes us know and
brings to light many differences betweenthings.
"By nature animals are born with the faculty of sensation, and from
sensation memory is produced in some of them, though not in others.
And therefore the formerare more intelligent and apt at learning
than those which cannot remember;those which are incapable of hearing
sounds are intelligent though they cannot be taught, e.g. the bee,
and any other race of animals that may be like it; and those which
besides memoryhave this sense of hearing can be taught.
"The animals other than man live by appearances and memories,and
have but little of connected experience;but the human race lives
also by art and reasonings.Now from memoryexperience is produced
in men; for the several memories of the same thing produce finally
the capacity for a single experience.And experience seemspretty
much like science and art, but really science and art come to men
through experience;for'experience made art', as Polus says, 'but

18. inexperience luck.' Now art arises when from many notions gained by
experience one universal judgementabout a class of objects is produced.
For to have a judgement that when Callias was ill of this disease
this did him good,and similarly in the case of Socrates and in many
individual cases,is a matter of experience;but to judge that it
has done good to all persons of a certain constitution, marked off
in one class, when they were ill of this disease,e.g. to phlegmatic
or bilious people when burning with fevers-this is a matter of art.
…
Part 3
"Evidently we have to acquire knowledge of the original causes (for
we say we know each thing only when we think we recognize its first
cause), and causes are spoken of in four senses.In one of these we
mean the substance, i.e. the essence (forthe 'why' is reducible finally
to the definition, and the ultimate 'why' is a cause and principle);
in another the matter or substratum, in a third the source of the
change, and in a fourth the cause opposedto this, the purpose and
the good (for this is the end of all generation and change). We have
studied these causes sufficientlyin our work on nature, but yet let
us call to our aid those who have attacked the investigation of being
and philosophized about reality before us. For obviously they too
speak of certain principles and causes; to go over their views, then,
will be of profit to the present inquiry, for we shall either find
another kind of cause, or be more convinced of the correctnessof
those which we now maintain.
…
Part 6
"Afterthe systems we have named came the philosophy of Plato, which
in mostrespects followed these thinkers, but had peculiarities that
distinguished it from the philosophy of the Italians. For, having

19. in his youth first become familiarwith Cratylus and with the Heraclitean
doctrines (that all sensible things are ever in a state of flux and
there is no knowledge about them), these views he held even in later
years. Socrates,however, was busying himself about ethical matters
and neglecting the world of nature as a whole but seeking the universal
in these ethical matters, and fixed thought for the first time on
definitions;Plato accepted his teaching, but held that the problem
applied not to sensible things but to entities of another kind-for
this reason, that the commondefinition could not be a definition
of any sensible thing, as they were always changing. Things of this
other sort, then, he called Ideas,and sensible things, he said, were
all named after these, and in virtue of a relation to these; for the
many existed by participation in the Ideas that have the same name
as they. Only the name 'participation' was new; for the Pythagoreans
say that things exist by 'imitation' of numbers, and Plato says they
exist by participation, changing the name. But what the participation
or the imitation of the Forms could be they left an open question.
…
"Plato, then, declared himself thus on the points in question; it
is evident from what has beensaid that he has used only two causes,
that of the essence and the material cause (for the Forms are the
causes of the essence of all other things, and the One is the cause
of the essence ofthe Forms);and it is evident what the underlying
matter is, of which the Forms are predicated in the case of sensible
things, and the One in the case of Forms, viz. that this is a dyad,
the great and the small. Further, he has assigned the cause of good
and that of evil to the elements,one to each of the two, as we say
some of his predecessors soughtto do, e.g. Empedoclesand Anaxagoras.
...

20. Book 5: Part 2 "
"'Cause' means (1) that from which, as immanent material, a thing
comes into being, e.g. the bronze is the cause of the statue and the
silver of the saucer, and so are the classes which include these.
(2) The form or pattern, i.e. the definition of the essence,and the
classes which include this (e.g. the ratio 2:1 and number in general
are causes of the octave), and the parts included in the definition.
(3) That from which the change or the resting from change first begins;
e.g. the adviser is a cause of the action, and the father a cause
of the child, and in general the maker a cause of the thing made and
the change-producing of the changing. (4) The end, i.e. that for the
sake of which a thing is; e.g. health is the cause of walking. For
'Why does one walk?' we say; 'that one may be healthy'; and in speaking
thus we think we have given the cause. The same is true of all the
means that intervene before the end, when something else has put the
process inmotion, as e.g. thinning or purging or drugs or instruments
intervene before health is reached; for all these are for the sake
of the end, though they differfrom one another in that some are instruments
and others are actions.
"These,then, are practically all the senses in which causes are spoken
of, and as they are spokenof in several senses it follows both that
there are several causes of the same thing, and in no accidental sense
(e.g. both the art of sculpture and the bronze are causes of the statue
not in respectof anything else but qua statue; not, however, in the
same way, but the one as matter and the other as source of the movement),
and that things can be causes of one another (e.g. exercise of good
condition, and the latter of exercise;not, however, in the same way,
but the one as end and the other as source of movement).-Again, the
same thing is the cause of contraries; for that which when present

21. causes a particular thing, we sometimescharge, when absent, with
the contrary, e.g. we impute the shipwreck to the absence of the steersman,
whose presence was the cause of safety; and both-the presence and
the privation-are causes as sources of movement.
"All the causes now mentioned fall under four senses which are the
most obvious.For the letters are the cause of syllables, and the
material is the cause of manufactured things, and fire and earth and
all such things are the causes of bodies,and the parts are causes
of the whole, and the hypotheses are causes of the conclusion,in
the sense that they are that out of which these respectivelyare made;
but of these some are cause as the substratum (e.g. the parts), others
as the essence (the whole, the synthesis, and the form). The seamen,
the physician, the adviser, and in general the agent, are all sources
of change or of rest. The remainder are causes as the end and the
good of the other things; for that for the sake of which other things
are tends to be the bestand the end of the other things; let us take
it as making no difference whether we call it good or apparent good.

22. 6.
Rene Descartes
First and Second Meditation
First Meditation:
On what can be called into doubt
Some years ago I was struck by how many false things I had believed, and by how doubtful was the structure of beliefs
that I had based on them. I realized that if I wanted to establish anything in the sciences that was stable and likely to las t, I
needed—just once in my life—to demolish everything completely and start again from the foundations. It looked like an
enormous task, and I decided to wait until I was old enough to be sure that there was nothing to be gained from putting it
off any longer. I have now delayed it for so long that I have no excuse for going on planning to do it rather than getting to
work. So today I have set all my worries aside and arranged for myself a clear stretch of free time. I am here quite alone,
and at last I will devote myself, sincerely and without holding back, to demolishing my opinions.
I can do this without showing that all my beliefs are false, which is probably more than I could ever manage. My
reason tells me that as well as withholding assent from propositions that are obviously •false, I should also withhold it from
ones that are •not completely certain and indubitable. So all I need, for the purpose of rejecting all my opinions, is to find
in each of them at least some reason for doubt. I can do this without going through them one by one, which would take
forever: once the foundations of a building have been undermined, the rest collapses of its own accord; so I will go
straight for the basic principles on which all my former beliefs rested.
Whatever I have accepted until now as most true has come to me through my senses. But occasionally I have
found that they have deceived me, and it is unwise to trust completely those who have deceived us even once. [The next
paragraph presents a series of considerations back and forth. It is set out here as a discussion between two people, but
that isn’t how Descartes presented it.]
Hopeful: Yet although the senses sometimes deceive us about objects that are very small or distant, that doesn’t
apply to my belief that I am here, sitting by the fire, wearing a winter dressing-gown, holding this piece of paper in my
hands, and so on. It seems to be quite impossible to doubt beliefs like these, which come from the senses. Another
example: how can I doubt that these hands or this whole body are mine? To doubt such things I would have to liken
myself to brain-damaged madmen who are convinced they are kings when really they are paupers, or say they are
dressed in purple when they are naked, or that they are pumpkins, or made of glass. Such people are insane, and I would
be thought equally mad if I modelled myself on them.
Doubtful (sarcastically): What a brilliant piece of reasoning! As if I were not a man who sleeps at night and often
has all the same experiences while asleep as madmen do when awake—indeed sometimes even more improbable ones.
Often in my dreams I am convinced of just such familiar events— that I am sitting by the fire in my dressing-gown—when
in fact I am lying undressed in bed!
Hopeful: Yet right now my eyes are certainly wide open when I look at this piece of paper; I shake my head and it
isn’t asleep; when I rub one hand against the other, I do it deliberately and know what I am doing. This wouldn’t all happen
with such clarity to someone asleep.
Doubtful: Indeed! As if I didn’t remember other occasions when I have been tricked by exactly similar thoughts
while asleep! As I think about this more carefully, I realize that there is never any reliable way of distinguishing being

23. awake from being asleep. This discovery makes me feel dizzy, [joke:] which itself reinforces the notion that I may be
asleep!
Suppose then that I am dreaming—it isn’t true that I, with my eyes open, am moving my head and stretching out
my hands. Suppose, indeed that I don’t even have hands or any body at all. Still, it has to be admitted that the visions that
come in sleep are like paintings: they must have been made as copies of real things; so at least these general kinds of
things— eyes, head, hands and the body as a whole—must be real and not imaginary. For even when painters try to
depict sirens and satyrs with the most extraordinary bodies, they simply jumble up the limbs of different kinds of real
animals, rather than inventing natures that are entirely new. If they do succeed in thinking up something completely
fictitious and unreal—not remotely like anything ever seen before—at least the colours used in the picture must be real.
Similarly, although these general kinds of things— eyes, head, hands and so on—could be imaginary, there is no denying
that certain even simpler and more universal kinds of things are real. These are the elements out of which we make all our
mental images of things—the true and also the false ones.
These simpler and more universal kinds include body, and extension; the shape of extended things; their quantity,
size and number; the places things can be in, the time through which they can last, and so on.
So it seems reasonable to conclude that physics, astronomy, medicine, and all other sciences dealing with things
that have complex structures are doubtful; while arithmetic, geometry and other studies of the simplest and most general
things—whether they really exist in nature or not—contain something certain and indubitable. For whether I am awake or
asleep, two plus three makes five, and a square has only four sides. It seems impossible to suspect that such obvious
truths might be false.
However, I have for many years been sure that there is an all-powerful God who made me to be the sort of
creature that I am. How do I know that he hasn’t brought it about that there is no earth, no sky, nothing that takes up
space, no shape, no size, no place, while making sure that all these things appear to me to exist? Anyway, I sometimes
think that others go wrong even when they think they have the most perfect knowledge; so how do I know that I myself
don’t go wrong every time I add two and three or count the sides of a square? Well, ·you might say·, God would not let me
be deceived like that, because he is said to be supremely good. But, ·I reply·, if God’s goodness would stop him from
letting me be deceived •all the time, you would expect it to stop him from allowing me to be deceived even •occasionally;
yet clearly I sometimes am deceived.
Some people would deny the existence of such a powerful God rather than believe that everything else is
uncertain. Let us grant them—for purposes of argument—that there is no God, and theology is fiction. On their view, then,
I am a product of fate or chance or a long chain of causes and effects. But the less powerful they make my original cause,
the more likely it is that I am so imperfect as to be deceived all the time—because deception and error seem to be
imperfections. Having no answer to these arguments, I am driven back to the position that doubts can properly be raised
about any of my former beliefs. I don’t reach this conclusion in a flippant or casual manner, but on the basis of powerful
and well thought-out reasons. So in future, if I want to discover any certainty, I must withhold my assent from these former
beliefs just as carefully as I withhold it from obvious falsehoods.
It isn’t enough merely to have noticed this, though; I must make an effort to remember it. My old familiar opinions
keep coming back, and against my will they capture my belief. It is as though they had a right to a place in my belief-
system as a result of long occupation and the law of custom. These habitual opinions of mine are indeed highly probable;
although they are in a sense doubtful, as I have shown, it is more reasonable to believe than to deny them. But if I go on
viewing them in that light I shall never get out of the habit of confidently assenting to them. To conquer that habit,
therefore, I had better switch right around and pretend (for a while) that these former opinions of mine are utterly false and
imaginary. I shall do this until I have something to counter-balance the weight of old opinion, and the distorting influence of

24. habit no longer prevents me from judging correctly. However far I go in my distrustful attitude, no actual harm will come of
it, because my project won’t affect how I •act, but only how I •go about acquiring knowledge.
So I shall suppose that some malicious, powerful, cunning demon has done all he can to deceive me—rather than
this being done by God, who is supremely good and the source of truth. I shall think that the sky, the air, the earth,
colours, shapes, sounds and all external things are merely dreams that the demon has contrived as traps for my
judgment. I shall consider myself as having no hands or eyes, or flesh, or blood or senses, but as having falsely believed
that I had all these things. I shall stubbornly persist in this train of thought; and even if I can’t learn any truth, I shall at least
do what I can do, which is to be on my guard against accepting any falsehoods, so that the deceiver—however powerful
and cunning he may be—will be unable to affect me in the slightest. This will be hard work, though, and a kind of laziness
pulls me back into my old ways. Like a prisoner who dreams that he is free, starts to suspect that it is merely a dream, and
wants to go on dreaming rather than waking up, so I am content to slide back into my old opinions; I fear being shaken out
of them because I am afraid that my peaceful sleep may be followed by hard labour when I wake, and that I shall have to
struggle not in the light but in the imprisoning darkness of the problems I have raised.
Second Meditation
OF THE NATURE OF THE HUMAN MIND; AND THAT IT IS MORE EASILY KNOWN THAN THE BODY.
1. The Meditation of yesterday has filled my mind with so many doubts, that it is no longer in my power to forget
them. Nor do I see, meanwhile, any principle on which they can be resolved; and, just as if I had fallen all of a
sudden into very deep water, I am so greatly disconcerted as to be unable either to plant my feet firmly on the
bottom or sustain myself by swimming on the surface. I will, nevertheless, make an effort, and try anew the same
path on which I had entered yesterday, that is, proceed by casting aside all that admits of the slightest doubt, not
less than if I had discovered it to be absolutely false; and I will continue always in this track until I shall find
something that is certain, or at least, if I can do nothing more, until I shall know with certainty that there is nothing
certain. Archimedes, that he might transport the entire globe from the place it occupied to another, demanded only a
point that was firm and immovable; so, also, I shall be entitled to entertain the highest expectations, if I am fortunate
enough to discover only one thing that is certain and indubitable.
2. I suppose, accordingly, that all the things which I see are false (fictitious); I believe that none of those objects
which my fallacious memory represents ever existed; I suppose that I possess no senses; I believe that body, figure,
extension, motion, and place are merely fictions of my mind. What is there, then, that can be esteemed true ?
Perhaps this only, that there is absolutely nothing certain.
3. But how do I know that there is not something different altogether from the objects I have now enumera ted, of
which it is impossible to entertain the slightest doubt? Is there not a God, or some being, by whatever name I may
designate him, who causes these thoughts to arise in my mind ? But why suppose such a being, for it may be I
myself am capable of producing them? Am I, then, at least not something? But I before denied that I possessed
senses or a body; I hesitate, however, for what follows from that? Am I so dependent on the body and the senses
that without these I cannot exist? But I had the persuasion that there was absolutely nothing in the world, that there
was no sky and no earth, neither minds nor bodies; was I not, therefore, at the same time, persuaded that I did not
exist? Far from it; I assuredly existed, since I was persuaded. But there is I know not what being, who is possessed
at once of the highest power and the deepest cunning, who is constantly employing all his ingenuity in deceiving me.
Doubtless, then, I exist, since I am deceived; and, let him deceive me as he may, he can never bring it about that I

25. am nothing, so long as I shall be conscious that I am something. So that it must, in fine, be maintained, all things
being maturely and carefully considered, that this proposition (pronunciatum) I am, I exist, is necessarily true each
time it is expressed by me, or conceived in my mind.
4. But I do not yet know with sufficient clearness what I am, though assured that I am; and hence, in the next place, I
must take care, lest perchance I inconsiderately substitute some other object in room of what is properly myself, and
thus wander from truth, even in that knowledge (cognition) which I hold to be of all others the most certain and
evident. For this reason, I will now consider anew what I formerly believed myself to be, before I entered on the
present train of thought; and of my previous opinion I will retrench all that can in the least be invalidated by the
grounds of doubt I have adduced, in order that there may at length remain nothing but what is certain and
indubitable.
5. What then did I formerly think I was ? Undoubtedly I judged that I was a man. But what is a man ? Shall I say a
rational animal ? Assuredly not; for it would be necessary forthwith to inquire into what is meant by animal, and what
by rational, and thus, from a single question, I should insensibly glide into others, and these more difficult than the
first; nor do I now possess enough of leisure to warrant me in wasting my time amid subtleties of this sort. I prefer
here to attend to the thoughts that sprung up of themselves in my mind, and were inspired by my own nature alone,
when I applied myself to the consideration of what I was. In the first place, then, I thought that I possessed a
countenance, hands, arms, and all the fabric of members that appears in a corpse, and which I called by the name
of body. It further occurred to me that I was nourished, that I walked, perceived, and thought, and all those actions I
referred to the soul; but what the soul itself was I either did not stay to consider, or, if I did, I imagined that it was
something extremely rare and subtile, like wind, or flame, or ether, spread through my grosser parts. As regarded
the body, I did not even doubt of its nature, but thought I distinctly knew it, and if I had wished to describe it
according to the notions I then entertained, I should have explained myself in this manner: By body I understand all
that can be terminated by a certain figure; that can be comprised in a certain place, and so fill a certain space as
therefrom to exclude every other body; that can be perceived either by touch, sight, hearing, taste, or smell; that can
be moved in different ways, not indeed of itself, but by something foreign to it by which it is touched [and from which
it receives the impression]; for the power of self-motion, as likewise that of perceiving and thinking, I held as by no
means pertaining to the nature of body; on the contrary, I was somewhat astonished to find such faculties existing in
some bodies.
6. But [as to myself, what can I now say that I am], since I suppose there exists an extremely powerful, and, if I may
so speak, malignant being, whose whole endeavors are directed toward deceiving me ? Can I affirm that I possess
any one of all those attributes of which I have lately spoken as belonging to the nature of body ? After attentively
considering them in my own mind, I find none of them that can properly be said to belong to myself. To recount them
were idle and tedious. Let us pass, then, to the attributes of the soul. The first mentioned were the powe rs of
nutrition and walking; but, if it be true that I have no body, it is true likewise that I am capable neither of walking nor
of being nourished. Perception is another attribute of the soul; but perception too is impossible without the body;
besides, I have frequently, during sleep, believed that I perceived objects which I afterward observed I did not in
reality perceive. Thinking is another attribute of the soul; and here I discover what properly belongs to myself. This
alone is inseparable from me. I am—I exist: this is certain; but how often? As often as I think; for perhaps it would
even happen, if I should wholly cease to think, that I should at the same time altogether cease to be. I now admit

26. nothing that is not necessarily true. I am therefore, precisely speaking, only a thinking thing, that is, a mind (mens
sive animus), understanding, or reason, terms whose signification was before unknown to me. I am, however, a real
thing, and really existent; but what thing? The answer was, a thinking thing.

27. 7.
John Locke
An Essay Concerning Human Understanding
Chapter 3: Other Considerations Concerning Innate Principles
1. Principles not innate, unless their Ideas be innate
Had those who would persuade us that there are innate principles not taken them together in gross,
but considered separately the parts out of which those propositions are made, they would not,
perhaps, have been so forward to believe they were innate. Since, if the IDEAS which made up those
truths were not, it was impossible that the PROPOSITIONS made up of them should be innate, or our
knowledge of them be born with us. For, if the ideas be not innate, there was a time when the mind
was without those principles; and then they will not be innate, but be derived from some other
original. For, where the ideas themselves are not, there can be no knowledge, no assent, no mental
or verbal propositions about them.
2. Ideas, especially those belonging to Principles, not born with children
If we will attentively consider new-born children, we shall have little reason to think that they bring
many ideas into the world with them. For, bating perhaps some faint ideas of hunger, and thirst, and
warmth, and some pains, which they may have felt in the womb, there is not the least appearance of
any settled ideas at all in them; especially of IDEAS ANSWERING THE TERMS WHICH MAKE UP
THOSE UNIVERSAL PROPOSITIONS THAT ARE ESTEEMED INNATE PRINCIPLES. One may
perceive how, by degrees, afterwards, ideas come into their minds; and that they get no more, nor
other, than what experience, and the observation of things that come in their way, furnish them with;
which might be enough to satisfy us that they are not original characters stamped on the mind.
3. Impossibility and Identity not innate ideas
“It is impossible for the same thing to be, and not to be,” is certainly (if there be any such) an innate
PRINCIPLE. But can any one think, or will any one say, that “impossibility” and “identity” are two
innate IDEAS? Are they such as all mankind have, and bring into the world with them? And are they
those which are the first in children, and antecedent to all acquired ones? If they are innate, they must
needs be so. Hath a child an idea of impossibility and identity, before it has of white or black, sweet or
bitter? And is it from the knowledge of this principle that it concludes, that wormwood rubbed on the
nipple hath not the same taste that it used to receive from thence? Is it the actual knowledge of
IMPOSSIBILE EST IDEM ESSE, ET NON ESSE, that makes a child distinguish between its mother
and a stranger; or that makes it fond of the one and flee the other? Or does the mind regulate itself

28. and its assent by ideas that it never yet had? Or the understanding draw conclusions from principles
which it never yet knew or understood? The names IMPOSSIBILITY and IDENTITY stand for two
ideas, so far from being innate, or born with us, that I think it requires great care and attention to form
them right in our understandings. They are so far from being brought into the world with us, so remote
from the thoughts of infancy and childhood, that I believe, upon examination it will be found that many
grown men want them.
4. Identity, an Idea not innate.
If IDENTITY (to instance that alone) be a native impression, and consequently so clear and obvious
to us that we must needs know it even from our cradles, I would gladly be resolved by any one of
seven, or seventy years old, whether a man, being a creature consisting of soul and body, be the
same man when his body is changed? Whether Euphorbus and Pythagoras, having had the same
soul, were the same men, though they lived several ages asunder? Nay, whether the cock too, which
had the same soul, were not the same, with both of them? Whereby, perhaps, it will appear that our
idea of SAMENESS is not so settled and clear as to deserve to be thought innate in us. For if those
innate ideas are not clear and distinct, so as to be universally known and naturally agreed on, they
cannot be subjects of universal and undoubted truths, but will be the unavoidable occasion of
perpetual uncertainty. For, I suppose every one’s idea of identity will not be the same that Pythagoras
and thousands of his followers have. And which then shall be true? Which innate? Or are there two
different ideas of identity, both innate?
5. What makes the same man?
Nor let any one think that the questions I have here proposed about the identity of man are bare
empty speculations; which, if they were, would be enough to show, that there was in the
understandings of men no innate idea of identity. He that shall with a little attention reflect on the
resurrection, and consider that divine justice will bring to judgment, at the last day, the very same
persons, to be happy or miserable in the other, who did well or ill in this life, will find it perhaps not
easy to resolve with himself, what makes the same man, or wherein identity consists; and will not be
forward to think he, and every one, even children themselves, have naturally a clear idea of it.
…
23. Difference of Men’s Discoveries depends upon the different Application of their Faculties.
To conclude: some ideas forwardly offer themselves to all men’s understanding; and some sorts of
truths result from any ideas, as soon as the mind puts them into propositions: other truths require a
train of ideas placed in order, a due comparing of them, and deductions made with attention, before

29. they can be discovered and assented to. Some of the first sort, because of their general and easy
reception, have been mistaken for innate: but the truth is, ideas and notions are no more born with us
than arts and sciences; though some of them indeed offer themselves to our faculties more readily
than others; and therefore are more generally received: though that too be according as the organs of
our bodies and powers of our minds happen to be employed; God having fitted men with faculties and
means to discover, receive, and retain truths, according as they are employed. The great difference
that is to be found in the notions of mankind is, from the different use they put their faculties to. Whilst
some (and those the most) taking things upon trust, misemploy their power of assent, by lazily
enslaving their minds to the dictates and dominion of others, in doctrines which it is their duty
carefully to examine, and not blindly, with an implicit faith, to swallow; others, employing their
thoughts only about some few things, grow acquainted sufficiently with them, attain great degrees of
knowledge in them, and are ignorant of all other, having never let their thoughts loose in the search of
other inquiries. Thus, that the three angles of a triangle are quite equal to two right ones is a truth as
certain as anything can be, and I think more evident than many of those propositions that go for
principles; and yet there are millions, however expert in other things, who know not this at all,
because they never set their thoughts on work about such angles. And he that certainly knows this
proposition may yet be utterly ignorant of the truth of other propositions, in mathematics itself, which
are as clear and evident as this; because, in his search of those mathematical truths, he stopped his
thoughts short and went not so far. The same may happen concerning the notions we have of the
being of a Deity. For, though there be no truth which a man may more evidently make out to himself
than the existence of a God, yet he that shall content himself with things as he finds them in this
world, as they minister to his pleasures and passions, and not make inquiry a little further into their
causes, ends, and admirable contrivances, and pursue the thoughts thereof with diligence and
attention, may live long without any notion of such a Being. And if any person hath by talk put such a
notion into his head, he may perhaps believe it; but if he hath never examined it, his knowledge of it
will be no perfecter than his, who having been told, that the three angles of a triangle are equal to two
right ones, takes it upon trust, without examining the demonstration; and may yield his assent as a
probable opinion, but hath no knowledge of the truth of it; which yet his faculties, if carefully
employed, were able to make clear and evident to him. But this only, by the by, to show how much
OUR KNOWLEDGE DEPENDS UPON THE RIGHT USE OF THOSE POWERS NATURE HATH
BESTOWED UPON US, and how little upon SUCH INNATE PRINCIPLES AS ARE IN VAIN
SUPPOSED TO BE IN ALL MANKIND FOR THEIR DIRECTION; which all men could not but know if
they were there, or else they would be there to no purpose. And which since all men do not know, nor
can distinguish from other adventitious truths, we may well conclude there are no such.

30. 24. Men must think and know for themselves.
What censure doubting thus of innate principles may deserve from men, who will be apt to call it
pulling up the old foundations of knowledge and certainty, I cannot tell;—I persuade myself at least
that the way I have pursued, being conformable to truth, lays those foundations surer. This I am
certain, I have not made it my business either to quit or follow any authority in the ensuing Discourse.
Truth has been my only aim; and wherever that has appeared to lead, my thoughts have impartially
followed, without minding whether the footsteps of any other lay that way or not. Not that I want a due
respect to other men’s opinions; but, after all, the greatest reverence is due to truth: and I hope it will
not be thought arrogance to say, that perhaps we should make greater progress in the discovery of
rational and contemplative knowledge, if we sought it in the fountain, IN THE CONSIDERATION OF
THINGS THEMSELVES; and made use rather of our own thoughts than other men’s to find it. For I
think we may as rationally hope to see with other men’s eyes, as to know by other men’s
understandings. So much as we ourselves consider and comprehend of truth and reason, so much
we possess of real and true knowledge. The floating of other men’s opinions in our brains, makes us
not one jot the more knowing, though they happen to be true. What in them was science, is in us but
opiniatrety; whilst we give up our assent only to reverend names, and do not, as they did, employ our
own reason to understand those truths which gave them reputation. Aristotle was certainly a knowing
man, but nobody ever thought him so because he blindly embraced, and confidently vented the
opinions of another. And if the taking up of another’s principles, without examining them, made not
him a philosopher, I suppose it will hardly make anybody else so. In the sciences, every one has so
much as he really knows and comprehends. What he believes only, and takes upon trust, are but
shreds; which, however well in the whole piece, make no considerable addition to his stock who
gathers them. Such borrowed wealth, like fairy money, though it were gold in the hand from which he
received it, will be but leaves and dust when it comes to use.
8.
Arthur Schopenahauer
On the Freedom of the Will

31. AccessPDF at
http://assets.cambridge.org/97805215/71418/sample/9780521571418web.pdf

32. 9
William James
“The Dilemma of Determinism”
Accessvia Rutgers University
http://www.rci.rutgers.edu/~stich/104_Master_File/104_Readings/James/James_DILE
MMA_OF_DETERMINISM.pdf
10

33. Selection from the Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy
“John Stuart Mill: Freedom of Will”
By Michael Schefczyk
http://www.iep.utm.edu/mill-eth/#H12
11.
St. Anselm of Canterbury - Proslogion
Emphasis on Chapters 2 and 3

34. https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Proslogion
12.
St. Thomas Aquinas
Summa Theologica - Excerpt from First Part, Article 3
Accessvia New Advent
http://www.newadvent.org/summa/1002.htm

35. 13.
St. Thomas Aquinas
Disputed Questions on Virtue
Accessvia Gutenberg
http://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/18755/pg18755-images.html
http://www.gutenberg.org/files/22295/22295-h/22295-h.htm