Not I, quoth my uncle.
--But you have some ideas, said my father, of what you talk about?--
No more than my horse, replied my uncle _Toby_.
Gracious heaven! cried my father, looking upwards, and clasping his two hands together----there is a worth in thy honest ignorance, brother _Toby_----'twere almost a pity to exchange it for a knowledge. --But I'll tell thee.----
To understand what _time_ is aright, without which we never can comprehend _infinity_, insomuch as one is a portion of the other----we ought seriously to sit down and consider what idea it is we have of _duration_, so as to give a satisfactory account how we came by it. ----What is that to anybody? quoth my uncle _Toby_. [3.3]_For if you will turn your eyes inwards upon your mind_, continued my father, _and observe attentively, you will perceive, brother, that whilst you and I are talking together, and thinking, and smoking our pipes, or whilst we receive successively ideas in our minds, we know that we do exist, and so we estimate the existence, or the continuation of the existence of ourselves, or anything else, commensurate to the succession of any ideas in our minds, the duration of ourselves, or any such other thing co-existing with our thinking----and so according to that preconceived_ ------You puzzle me to death, cried my uncle _Toby_.

'Not I,' quoth my uncle.
'But you have some idea of what you talk about?'
'No more than my horse,' replied my uncle Toby.
'Gracious heaven!' cried my father, 'there is a worth in thy honest ignorance, brother Toby - 'twere almost a pity to exchange it for knowledge. - But I'll tell thee. To understand what time is, without which we never can comprehend infinity, - we ought seriously to sit down and consider what idea we have of duration, and how we came by it.'
'Why?'
'If you will turn your eyes inwards upon your mind,' continued my father, 'you will perceive, brother, that whilst we are talking, and thinking, and smoking our pipes, we know that we exist, and so we estimate the existence, or the continuation of the existence of ourselves, or anything else, commensurate to the succession of any ideas in our minds, the duration of ourselves, or any such other thing co-existing with our thinking - and so according to that preconceived-'
'You puzzle me to death,' cried my uncle Toby.
