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what I am writing.
At length I say to myself "Whew! This room is stuffy."
That is a mental formulation.
How could the feeling get transformed into something so utterly unlike it, as the sense of a mental formula?
Only by some continuous process.
Not by successive inferences, since every inference requires a mentalformula for its premiss.
However, I do formulate that thought and begin to reson about it.
It cocerned me that when rooms are stuffy they need airing.
To air a room, a window should be opened.
Then I want the window opened.
Here I recall an old maxim that if you want anything done, one may as to do it yourself.
But of I am to open the window, I must stand near it.
Then I must go to it.
Then I must rise from my chair.
Then I must bend forward and drawback my feet.
Here the inferences become so minute and crowded that in my review of them, I can no longer distinguish them.
There is an interval concerning which I can give no account, and after it, I am actually rising + moving towards the window.
Now, how is it that the sense of a mental formula has been converted into something so utterly different as a living volition?
The difficulty is so