But what have I just said? That very refined and metaphysical reflections have little or no influence on us? I can scarcely refrain from retracting ·even· this opinion, and condemning it on the basis of my present feeling and experience. The intense view of all these contradictions and imperfections in human reason has so heated my brain that I am ready to reject all belief and reasoning, and can’t see any opinion ·as true, or· even as more probable or likely than another.
Where am I?
What am I?
What has caused me to exist, and to what condition shall I return ·after death·?
Whose favour shall I court, and whose anger must Idread?
What beings surround me?
Which ones can I influence, and which have any influence on me?
I am bemused by all these questions, and begin to fancy myself in the most deplorable condition imaginable— surrounded by the deepest darkness, and utterly deprived of the use of every skill of body and mind.