the thought? I By no means! Not even so much as this have thy principles left me.
Spirit. Possibly.
I. Necessarily;—for see: All that I know is my consciousness itself. All consciousness is either an immediate or a mediate consciousness. The first is self-consciousness; the second, consciousness of that which is not myself. What I call I, is therefore absolutely nothing more than a certain modification of consciousness, which is called I, just because it is immediate, returning into itself, and not directed outward. Since all other consciousness is possible only under the condition of this immediate consciousness, it is obvious that this consciousness which is called I must accompany all my other conceptions, be necessarily contained in them, although not always clearly perceived by me, and that in each moment of my consciousness I must refer everything to this I, and not to the particular thing out of myself thought of at the moment. In this way the I would at every moment vanish, and reappear; and for every new conception a new I would arise, and this I would never signify anything more than not the thing.
This scattered self-consciousness is now combined by thought,—by more thought, I say—and presented in the unity of a supposed capacity of thought. According to this supposition, all conceptions which are accompanied by the immediate consciousness already spoken of, must proceed from one and the same capacity, which inheres in one and the same entity; and thus there arises for me the notion of the identity and personality of my I, and of an efficient and real power in this person,—necessarily a mere fiction, since this
