something never to see and never to dare to conceive. when it all feels much to clear understand your coasting on the surface of a much more complex set of circumstances. fear only a life without fear. and feel comfortable that this is not all there is. would you believe this is being created in a liqour store in ft lauderdale. or would you agree that it would have never occured if i had stopped at tallent liqours instead? a young fellow cuts fish on a set of crates that brought the liqour that drove him to cut fish in a drunken daze to begin with. a greasy, creasy face posing questions such as "does the center hold" while i conjure up a particular philosophy of why i should educate the individual rather than assist him in carpentry. some philosophers imagine every moment we are intimately conscious of what we call our SELF and that we feel its existance and are certain, without any physical evidence, both of its perfect identity and simplicity. but for my part, when i ponder about the "thing" that i call MYSELF, I always relive in my thougths the perceptions of heat or cold, light or shade, love or hatred, pain or pleasure. I cen never catch myself at any time without a perception. I may even go as far as to say that all who exist are nothing but a series of perceptions, which succeed each other with an inconceivable rapidity and are in a perpetual flux and movement. Our eyes cannot be in motion without varying our perceptions. our thought is still more variable thna our sight and all our other sneses and perceptions contribute to this change And there is no quality in us that stas certain and constant. even perhaps for a moment.