What,
then, can be esteemed as true? Perhaps nothing at all, unless
that there is nothing in the world that is certain.
But how can I know there is not something different from
those things that I have just considered, of which one cannot
have the slightest doubt? Is there not some God, or some
other being by whatever name we call it, who puts these
reflections into my mind? That is not necessary, for is it
not possible that I am capable of producing them myself? I
myself, am I not at least something? But I have already
denied that I had senses and body. Yet I hesitate, for what
follows from that? Am I so dependent on body and senses that
I cannot exist without these? But I was persuaded that there
was nothing in all the world, that there was no heaven, no
earth, that there were no minds, nor any bodies: was I not
then likewise persuaded that I did not exist? Not at all; of
a surety I myself did exist since I persuaded myself of
something [or merely because I thought of something]. But
there is some deceiver or other, very powerful and very
cunning, who ever employs his ingenuity in deceiving me.
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