Every desire, thought of as being known, is will; just as every desire, thought of as being unknown, is instinct.

We may have a desire we do not now know to hear Mozart. Looking at the desire, seeing it, and therefore knowing it, means that it is will. There are ever so many desires we haven’t looked at; and therefore, they are not will. We may have had a desire to know more about Robespierre; we find we have that desire now; we can say, therefore, with truth, we have a will to know more about Robespierre. We can go to a book, a dictionary of biography, perhaps, or a history of France, or a history of the French Revolution; but it is not the going to a book which makes the will.

It is true that some wills are weak compared to others. But just as a sick boy who doesn’t play is just as much a boy as a boy who plays a lot, so a will, faintly showing itself externally, is just as much a will, as will, as one which shows itself blatantly, or sensationally, or clearly.

We can change any feeling we have into instinct by seeing the feeling as leading to something, or going towards something. It is then desire, too. We can change any desire into will by knowing that we have it, by affirming its existence in ourselves. This means we can change any feeling into will by seeing it as making for something, that is, being a cause; and by knowing that we have this feeling.

For example, Mr. Jenkins is drinking wine, which he likes. He has a feeling, then, leading to his drinking more. He has, therefore, an instinct or desire to drink more wine. He can see this desire and can say, “No matter if the wine is costly, I want to keep on drinking it.” And he may think that despite his wife’s possible opposition, he wants to keep on drinking it. Here we would come to a will in the “energetic” sense of the word; for Mr. Theodore Jenkins is being seen as saying that despite opposition, he will drink the wine. This determination arose from a feeling that the wine was pleasant—for if the wine were not pleasant, it is likely Mr. Jenkins would not take the trouble to defy, by anticipation, Mrs. Jenkins and other representatives of opposition to his feeling.

It is still true, though, that there was a will in Mr. Jenkins to drink the wine, as soon as he knew that he felt like drinking the wine, or wanted to drink the wine. Or, if one prefers, there would be a will in the incompletely aware Theodore Jenkins if he came to know he wanted to drink the wine.

What works against will in a person is the presence of other will; just as what works against desire or instinct is the presence of other desire or instinct. There is possible symphony or civil war always in the human mind, in the self.