which　is　extremely　powerful；　and；　if　I　may　say　so；　malicious；　who　employs　all　his　powers　in　deceiving　me？　　Can　I　affirm　that　I　possess　the　least　of　all　those　things　which　I　have　just　said　pertain　to　the　nature　of　body？　　I　pause　to　consider；　I　revolve　all　these　things　in　my　mind；　and　I　find　none　of　which　I　can　say　that　it　pertains　to　me。　　It　would　be　tedious　to　stop　to　enumerate　them。　　Let　us　pass　to　the　attributes　of　soul　and　see　if　there　is　any　one　which　is　in　me？　What　of　nutrition　or　walking　＇the　first　mentioned＇？　　But　if　it　is　so　that　I　have　no　body　it　is　also　true　that　I　can　neither　walk　nor　take　nourishment。　　Another　attribute　is　sensation。　But　one　cannot　feel　without　body；　and　besides　I　have　thought　I　perceived　many　things　during　sleep　that　I　recognised　in　my　waking　moments　as　not　having　been　experienced　at　all。　　What　of　thinking？　　I　find　here　that　thought　is　an　attribute　that　belongs　to　me；　it　alone　cannot　be　separated　from　me。　　I　am；　I　exist；　that　is　certain。　　But　how　often？　　Just　when　I　think；　for　it　might　possibly　be　the　case　if　I　ceased　entirely　to　think；　that　I　should　likewise　cease　altogether　to　exist。　　I　do　not　now　admit　anything　which　is　not　necessarily　true：　　to　speak　accurately　I　am　not　more　than　a　thing　which　thinks；　that　is　to　say　a　mind　or　a　soul；　or　an　understanding；　or　a　reason；　which　are　terms　whose　significance　was　formerly　unknown　to　me。　I　am；　however；　a　real　thing　and　really　exist；　but　what　thing？　I　have　answered：　　a　thing　which　thinks。　　　　　　And　what　more？　　I　shall　exercise　my　imagination　＇in　order　to　see　if　I　am　not　something　more＇。　　I　am　not　a　collection　of　members　which　we　call　the　human　body：　　I　am　not　a　subtle　air　distributed　through　these　members；　I　am　not　a　wind；　a　fire；　a　vapour；　a　breath；　nor　anything　at　all　which　I　can　imagine　or　conceive；　because　I　have　assumed　that　all　these　were　nothing。　Without　changing　that　supposition　I　find　that　I　only　leave　myself　certain　of　the　fact　that　I　am　somewhat。　　But　perhaps　it　is　true　that　these　same　things　which　I　supposed　were　non…　existent　because　they　are　unknown　to　me；　are　really　not　different　from　the　self　which　I　know。　　I　am　not　sure　about　this；　I　shall　not　dispute　about　it　now；　I　can　only　give　judgment　on　things　that　are　known　to　me。　　I　know　that　I　exist；　and　I　inquire　what　I　am；　I　whom　I　know　to　exist。　　But　it　is　very　certain　that　the　knowledge　of　my　existence　taken　in　its　precise　significance　does　not　depend　on　things　whose　existence　is　not　yet　known　to　me；　consequently　it　does　not　depend　on　those　which　I　can　feign　in　imagination。　　And　indeed　the　very　term　feign　in　imagination10　proves　to　me　my　error；　for　I　really　do　this　if　I　image　myself　a　something；　since　to　imagine　is　nothing　else　than　to　contemplate　the　figure　or　image　of　a　corporeal　thing。　　But　I　already　know　for　certain　that　I　am；　and　that　it　may　be　that　all　these　images；　and；　speaking　generally；　all　things　that　relate　to　the　nature　of　body　are　nothing　but　dreams　＇and　chimeras＇。　　For　this　reason　I　see　clearly　that　I　have　as　little　reason　to　say；　〃I　shall　stimulate　my　imagination　in　order　to　know　more　distinctly　what　I　am；〃　than　if　I　were　to　say；　〃I　am　now　awake；　and　I　perceive　somewhat　that　is　real　and　true：　　but　because　I　do　not　yet　perceive　it　distinctly　enough；　I　shall　go　to　sleep　of　express　purpose；　so　that　my　dreams　may　represent　the　perception　with　greatest　truth　and　evidence。〃　　And；　thus；　I　know　for　certain　that　nothing　of　all　that　I　can　understand　by　means　of　my　imagination　belongs　to　this　knowledge　which　I　have　of　myself；　and　that　it　is　necessary　to　recall　the　mind　from　this　mode　of　thought　with　the　utmost　diligence　in　order　that　it　may　be　able　to　know　its　own　nature　with　perfect　distinctness。　　　　　　But　what　then　am　I？　　A　thing　which　thinks。　　What　is　a　thing　which　thinks？　　It　is　a　thing　which　doubts；　understands；　＇conceives＇；　affirms；　denies；　wills；　refuses；　which　also　imagines　and　feels。　　　　　　Certainly　it　is　no　small　matter　if　all　these　things　pertain　to　my　nature。　　But　why　should　they　not　so　pertain？　　Am　I　not　that　being　who　now　doubts　nearly　everything；　who　nevertheless　understands　certain　things；　who　affirms　that　one　only　is　true；　who　denies　all　the　others；　who　desires　to　know　more；　is　averse　from　being　deceived；　who　imagines　many　things；　sometimes　indeed　despite　his　will；　and　who　perceives　many　likewise；　as　by　the　intervention　of　the　bodily　organs？　　Is　there　nothing　in　all　this　which　is　as　true　as　it　is　certain　that　I　exist；　even　though　I　should　always　sleep　and　though　　he　who　has　given　me　being　employed　all　his　ingenuity　in　deceiving　me？　　Is　there　likewise　any　one　of　these　attributes　which　can　be　distinguished　from　my　thought；　or　which　might　be　said　to　be　separated　from　myself？　　For　it　is　so　evident　of　itself　that　it　is　I　who　doubts；　who　understands；　and　who　desires；　that　there　is　no　reason　here　to　add　anything　to　explain　it。　　And　I　have　certainly　the　power　of　imagining　likewise；　for　although　it　may　happen　（as　I　formerly　supposed）　that　none　of　the　things　which　I　imagine　are　true；　nevertheless　this　power　of　imagining　does　not　cease　to　be　really　in　use；　and　it　forms　part　of　my　thought。　　Finally；　I　am　the　same　who　feels；　that　is　to　say；　who　perceives　certain　things；　as　by　the　organs　of　sense；　since　it　truth　I　see　light；　I　hear　noise；　I　feel　heat。　　But　it　will　be　said　that　these　phenomena　are　false　and　that　I　am　dreaming。　Let　it　be　so；　still　it　is　at　least　quite　certain　that　it　seems　to　me　that　I　see　light；　that　I　hear　noise　and　that　I　feel　heat。　　That　cannot　be　false；　properly　speaking　it　is　what　is　in　me　called　feeling；11　and　used　in　this　precise　sense　that　is　no　other　thing　than　thinking。　　　　　　From　this　time　I　begin　to　know　what　I　am　with　a　little　more　clearness　and　distinction　than　before；　but　nevertheless　it　still　seems　to　me；　and　I　cannot　prevent　myself　from　thinking；　that　corporeal　things；　whose　images　are　framed　by　thought；　which　are　tested　by　the　senses；　are　much　more　distinctly　known　than　that　obscure　part　of　me　which　does　not　come　under　the　imagination。　　Although　really　it　is　very　strange　to　say　that　I　know　and　understand　more　distinctly　these　things　whose　existence　seems　to　me　dubious；　which　are　unknown　to　me；　and　which　do　not　belong　to　me；　than　others　of　the　truth　of　which　I　am　convinced；　which　are　known　to　me　and　which　pertain　to　my　real　nature；　in　a　word；　than　myself。　　But　I　see　clearly　how　the　case　stands：　　my　mind　loves　to　wander；　and　cannot　yet　suffer　itself　to　be　retained　within　the　just　limits　of　truth。　　Very　good；　let　us　once　more　give　it　the　freest　rein；　so　that；　when　afterwards　we　seize　the　proper　occasion　for　pulling　up；　it　may　the　more　easily　be　regulated　and　controlled。　　　　　　Let　us　begin　by　considering　the　commonest　matters；　those　which　we　believe　to　be　the　most　distinctly　comprehended；　to　wit；　the　bodies　which　we　touch　and　see；　not　indeed　bodies　in　general；　for　these　general　ideas　are　usually　a　little　more　confused；　but　let　us　consider　one　body　in　particular。　　Let　us　take；　for　example；　this　piece　of　wax：　　it　has　been　taken　quite　freshly　from　the　hive；　and　it　has　not　yet　lost　the　sweetness　of　the　honey　which　it　contains；　it　still　retains　somewhat　of　the　odour　of　the　flowers　from　which　it　has　been　culled；　its　colour；　its　figure；　its　size　are　apparent；　it　is　hard；　cold；　easily　handled；　and　if　you　strike　it　with　the　finger；　it　will　emit　a　sound。　　Finally　all　the　things　which　are　requisite　to　cause　us　distinctly　to　recognise　a　body；　are　met　with　in　it。　But　notice　that　while　I　speak　and　approach　the　fire　what　remained　of　the　taste　is　exhaled；　the　smell　evaporates；　the　colour　alters；　the　figure　is　destroyed；　the　size　increases；　it　becomes　liquid；　it　heats；　scarcely　can　one　handle　it；　and　when　one　strikes　it；　now　sound　is　emitted。　　Does　the　same　wax　remain　after　this　change？　　We　must　confess　that　it　remains；　none　would　judge　otherwise。　　What　then　did　I　know　so　distinctly　in　this　piece　of　wax？　　It　could　certainly　be　nothing　of　all　that　the　senses　brought　to　my　notice；　since　all　these　things　which　fall　under　taste；　smell；　sight；　touch；　and　hearing；　are　found　to　be　changed；　and　yet　the　same　wax　remains。　　　　　　Perhaps　it　was　what　I　now　think；　viz。　that　this　wax　was　not　that　sweetness　of　honey；　nor　that　agreeable　scent　of　flowers；　nor　that　particular　whiteness；　nor　that　figure；　nor　that　sound；　but　simply　a　body　which　a　little　while　before　appeared　tome　as　perceptible　under　these　forms；　and　which　is　now　perceptible　under　others。　　But　what；　precisely；　is　it　that　I　imagine　when　I　form　such　conceptions？　　Let　us　attentively　consider　this；　and；　abstracting　from　all　that　does　not　belong　to　the　wax；　let　us　see　what　remains。　　Certainly　nothing　remains　excepting　a　certain　extended　thing　which　is　flexible　and　movable。　　But　what　is　the　meaning　of　flexible　and　movable？　Is　it　not　that　I　imagine　that　this　piece　of　wax　being　round　is　capable　of　becoming　square　and　of　passing　from　a　square　to　a　triangular　figure？　　No；　certainly　it　is　not　that；　since　I　imagine　it　admits　of　an　infinitude　of　similar　changes；　and　I　nevertheless　do　not　know　how　to　compass　the　infinitude　by　my　imagination；　and　consequently　this　conception　which　I　have　of　the　wax　is　not　brought　about　by　the　faculty　of　imagination。　What　now　is　this　extension？　　Is　it　not　also　unknown？　　For　it　becomes　greater　when　the　wax　is　melted；　greate