The World as Will and Idea, Vol. II — Arthur Schopenhauer, trans. Haldane & Kemp

*"Tis true your beard is curly, yet it will not draw you the bolt."

Kant's proposition, "The I think must accompany all our ideas," is insufficient; for the "I" is an unknown quantity, i.e., it is itself a secret. That which gives unity and connection to consciousness in that it runs through all its ideas, and is thus its substratum, its permanent supporter, cannot itself be conditioned by consciousness, therefore cannot be an idea. Eather it must be the prius of consciousness, and the root of the tree of which that is the fruit. This, I say, is the will. It alone is unchangeable and absolutely identical, and has brought33* FIRST BOOK. CHAPTER XV. forth consciousness for its own ends. Therefore it is also the will which gives it unity and holds together all its ideas and thoughts, accompanying them like a continuous harmony. Without it the intellect would no longer have the unity of consciousness, as a mirror in which now this and now that successively presents itself, or at the most only so much as a convex mirror whose rays unite in an imaginary point behind its surface. But the will alone is that which is permanent and unchangeable in consciousness. It is the will which holds together all thoughts and ideas as means to its ends, and tinges them with the colour of its own character, its mood, and its interests, commands the attention, and holds in its hand the train of motives whose influence ultimately sets memory and the association of ideas in activity ; at bottom it is the will that is spoken of whenever " I " appears in a judgment. Thus it is the true and final point of unity of consciousness, and the bond of all its functions and acts ; it does not itself, however, belong to the intellect, but is only itsjroot, soii^ce^and controller.

From the form of time and the single dimension of the series of ideas, on account of which, in order to take up one, the intellect must let all the others fall, there follows not only its distraction, but also its forgetfvlness. Most of what it lets fall it never takes up again ; especially since the taking up again is bound to the principle of sufficient reason, and thus demands an occasion which the association of thoughts and motivation have first to supply; an occasion, however, which may be the more remote and smaller in proportion as our sensibility for it is heightened by our interest in the subject. But memory, as I have already shown in the essay on the principle of sufficient reason, is not a store-house, but merely a faculty acquired by practice of calling up ideas at pleasure, which must therefore constantly be kept in practice by use; for otherwise it will gradually be lost. Accordingly the knowledge even of the learned

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man exists only virtualiter as an acquired facility in calling up certain ideas; actualiter, on the other hand, it also is confined to one idea, and is only conscious of this one at a time. Hence arises a strange contrast between what he knows potentid and what he knows ache ; that is, between his knowledge and what he thinks at any moment : the former is an immense and always somewhat chaotic mass, the latter is a single distinct thought.

The relation resembles that between the innumerable stars of the heavens and the limited field of vision of the telescope ; it appears in a striking manner when upon some occasion he wishes to call distinctly to his remembrance some particular circumstance in his knowledge, and time and trouble are required to produce it from that chaos.

Eapidity in doing this is a special gift, but is very dependent upon day and hour ; therefore memory sometimes refuses us its service, even in things which at another time it has readily at hand. This consideration calls us in our studies to strive more to attain to correct insight than to increase our learning, and to lay it to heart that the quality of knowledge is more important than its quantity.

The latter imparts to books only thickness, the former thoroughness and also style ; for it is an intensive quantity, while the other is merely extensive. It consists in the distinctness and completeness of the conceptions, together with the purity and accuracy of the knowledge of perception which forms their foundation ; therefore the whole of knowledge in all its parts is penetrated by it, and in proportion as it is so is valuable or trifling. With a small quantity, but of good quality, one achieves more than with a very large quantity of bad quality.