IV

But a second stage succeeds, the stage of desire. Indeed, though I
call it a second, it is really but a special aspect of the first; for
the ideal which I form always represents some improvement in myself.
An ideal which did not promise to better me in some way would be no
ideal at all. It would be quite inoperative. I never rise from my
chair except with the hope of being better off. Without this, I should
sit forever. But I feel uneasiness in my present position, and
conceive the possibility of not being constrained; or I think of some
needful work which remains unexecuted as long as I sit here, and that
work undone I perceive will leave my life less satisfactory than it
might be. And this imagined betterment must always be in some sense my
own. If it is a picture of the gains of some one else quite
unconnected with myself, it will not start my action.

But it will be objected that we do often act unselfishly and in behalf
of other persons. Indeed we do. Perhaps our impulses are more largely
derived from others than from ourselves, yet from desire our own share
is never quite eliminated. I give to the poor. But it is because I
hate poverty; or because I am attracted by the face, the story, or the
supposed character of him who receives; or because I am unable to
separate my interests from those of humanity everywhere. In some
subtle form the I-element enters. Leave it out, and the action would
lose its value and become mechanical. What I did would be no
expression of self-conscious me. And such undoubtedly is the case with
much of our conduct. The reflex actions, described in the last