ons naturally reside in the object they
agitate--our own body, if that be the felt seat of some pang, the stars,
if the pang can find no nearer resting-place. Only a long and still
unfinished education has taught men to separate emotions from things and
ideas from their objects. This education was needed because crude
experience is a chaos, and the qualities it jumbles together do not
march together in time. Reflection must accordingly separate them, if
knowledge (that is, ideas with eventual application and practical
transcendence) is to exist at all. In other words, action must be
adjusted to certain elements of experience and not to others, and those
chiefly regarded must have a certain interpretation put upon them by
trained apperception. The rest must be treated as moonshine and taken no
account of except perhaps in idle and poetic revery. In this way crude
experience grows reasonable and appearance becomes knowledge of reality.

The fundamental reason, then, why we attribute consciousness to natural
bodies is that those bodies, before they are conceived to be merely
material, are conceived to possess all the qualities which our own
consciousness possesses when we behold them. Such a supposition is far
from being a paradox, since only this principle justifies us to this day
in believing in whatever we may decide to believe in. The qualities
attributed to reality must be qualities found in experience, and if we
deny their presence in ourselves (_e.g._, in the case of omniscience),
that is only because the idea of self, like that of matter, has already
become special and the region of ideals (in which omniscience lies) has
been formed into a third sphere. But before the idea of self is well
constituted and before the category of ideals has been conceived at all,
every ingredient ultimately assigned to those two regions is attracted
into the perceptual vortex for which such qualities as pressure and
motion supply a nucleus. The moving image is therefore impregnated not
only with secondary qualities--colour, heat, etc.--but with qualities
which we may call tertiary, such as pain, fear, joy, malice,
feebleness, expectancy. Sometimes these tertiary qualities are
attributed to the object in their fulness and just as they are felt.
Thus the sun is not only bright and warm in the same way as he is round,
but by the same right he is also happy, arrogant, ever-young, and
all-seeing; for a suggestion of these tertiary qualities