Truth Is The Cry Of All, But

The Real Essence, The Internal Qualities, And Constitution Of Even The Meanest Object, Is Hid From Our View; Something There Is Inevery Drop Of Water, Every Grain Of Sand, Which It Is Beyond The Power Of Human Understanding To Fathom Or Comprehend. But It Is Evidentthat We Are Influenced By False Principles To That Degree As To Mistrust Our Senses, And Think We Know Nothing Of Those Things Which We Perfectly Comprehend.

Whenever I Attempt To Frame A Simple Idea Of Time, Abstracted From The Succession Of Ideas In My Mind, Which Flows Uniformly, And Is Participated By All Beings, I Am Lost And Embrangled In Inextricable Difficulties.

If We Admit A Thing So Extraordinary As The Creation Of This World, It Should Seem That We Admit Something Strange, And Odd, And New To Human Apprehension, Beyond Any Other Miracle Whatsoever.

Colour, Figure, Motion, Extension And The Like, Considered Only So Many Sensations In The Mind, Are Perfectly Known, There Being Nothing In Them Which Is Not Perceived. But If They Are Looked On As Notes Or Images, Referred To Things Or Archetypes Existing Without The Mind, Then Are We Involved All In Scepticism.

Nothing Can Be Plainer, Than That The Motions, Changes, Decays, And Dissolutions, Which We Hourly See Befall Natural Bodies (and Which Is What We Mean By The Course Of Nature), Cannot Possibly Affect An Active, Simple, Uncompounded Substance: Such A Being Therefore Is Indissoluble By The Force Of Nature, That Is To Say, The Soul Of Man Is Naturally Immortal.