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            <h2 id="FS.iii-p0.1">TREATISE ON THE PASSIONS (QQ[22]-48)</h2>
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               <h3 id="FS_Q22-p0.1">OF THE SUBJECT OF THE SOUL'S PASSIONS (THREE ARTICLES)</h3>
               <p id="FS_Q22-p1"></p>
               <p id="FS_Q22-p2"> We must now consider the passions of the soul: first, in general; secondly, in particular. Taking them in general, there
                  are four things to be considered: (1) Their subject: (2) The difference between them: (3) Their mutual relationship: (4) Their
                  malice and goodness.
               </p>
               <p id="FS_Q22-p3"> Under the first head there are three points of inquiry:</p>
               <p id="FS_Q22-p4"> (1) Whether there is any passion in the soul?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q22-p5"> (2) Whether passion is in the appetitive rather than in the apprehensive part?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q22-p6"> (3) Whether passion is in the sensitive appetite rather than in the intellectual appetite, which is called the will?</p>
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                  <h4 id="FS_Q22_A1-p0.1">Whether any passion is in the soul?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q22_A1-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q22_A1-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that there is no passion in the soul. Because passivity belongs to matter. But the soul is not composed of
                     matter and form, as stated in the 
                     <a id="FS_Q22_A1-p2.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FP_Q75_A5.html">FP, Q[75], A[5]</a>. Therefore there is no passion in the soul.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q22_A1-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, passion is movement, as is stated in Phys. iii, 3. But the soul is not moved, as is proved in De Anima i, 3. Therefore
                     passion is not in the soul.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q22_A1-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, passion is the road to corruption; since "every passion, when increased, alters the substance," as is stated in
                     Topic. vi, 6. But the soul is incorruptible. Therefore no passion is in the soul.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q22_A1-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> The Apostle says (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q22_A1-p5.1" href="./asv.html#Rom.7.5" target="asv">Rom. 7:5</a>): "When we were in the flesh, the passions of sins which were by the law, did the work in our members." Now sins are, properly
                     speaking, in the soul. Therefore passions also, which are described as being "of sins," are in the soul.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q22_A1-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> The word "passive" is used in three ways. First, in a general way, according as whatever receives something is passive, although
                     nothing is taken from it: thus we may say that the air is passive when it is lit up. But this is to be perfected rather than
                     to be passive. Secondly, the word "passive" is employed in its proper sense, when something is received, while something else
                     is taken away: and this happens in two ways. For sometimes that which is lost is
                     unsuitable to the thing: thus when an animal's body is healed, and loses sickness. At other times the contrary occurs: thus
                     to ail is to be passive; because the ailment is received and health is lost. And here we have passion in its most proper acceptation.
                     For a thing is said to be passive from its being drawn to the agent: and when a thing recedes from what is suitable to it,
                     then especially does it appear to be drawn to something else. Moreover in De Generat. i, 3 it is stated that when a
                     more excellent thing is generated from a less excellent, we have generation simply, and corruption in a particular respect:
                     whereas the reverse is the case, when from a more excellent thing, a less excellent is generated. In these three ways it happens
                     that passions are in the soul. For in the sense of mere reception, we speak of "feeling and understanding as being a kind
                     of passion" (De Anima i, 5). But passion, accompanied by the loss of something, is only in respect of a bodily
                     transmutation; wherefore passion properly so called cannot be in the soul, save accidentally, in so far, to wit, as the "composite"
                     is passive. But here again we find a difference; because when this transmutation is for the worse, it has more of the nature
                     of a passion, than when it is for the better: hence sorrow is more properly a passion than joy.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q22_A1-p7">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> It belongs to matter to be passive in such a way as to lose something and to be transmuted: hence this happens only in those
                     things that are composed of matter and form. But passivity, as implying mere reception, need not be in matter, but can be
                     in anything that is in potentiality. Now, though the soul is not composed of matter and form, yet it has something of potentiality,
                     in respect of which it is competent to receive or to be passive, according
                     as the act of understanding is a kind of passion, as stated in De Anima iii, 4.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q22_A1-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> Although it does not belong to the soul in itself to be passive and to be moved, yet it belongs accidentally as stated in
                     De Anima i, 3.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q22_A1-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> This argument is true of passion accompanied by transmutation to something worse. And passion, in this sense, is not found
                     in the soul, except accidentally: but the composite, which is corruptible, admits of it by reason of its own nature.
                  </p>
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                  <h4 id="FS_Q22_A2-p0.1">Whether passion is in the appetitive rather than in the apprehensive part?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q22_A2-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q22_A2-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that passion is in the apprehensive part of the soul rather than in the appetitive. Because that which is first
                     in any genus, seems to rank first among all things that are in that genus, and to be their cause, as is stated in Metaph.
                     ii, 1. Now passion is found to be in the apprehensive, before being in the appetitive part: for the appetitive part is not
                     affected unless there be a previous passion in the apprehensive part. Therefore passion is in
                     the apprehensive part more than in the appetitive.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q22_A2-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, what is more active is less passive; for action is contrary to passion. Now the appetitive part is more active than
                     the apprehensive part. Therefore it seems that passion is more in the apprehensive part.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q22_A2-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, just as the sensitive appetite is the power of a corporeal organ, so is the power of sensitive apprehension. But
                     passion in the soul occurs, properly speaking, in respect of a bodily transmutation. Therefore passion is not more in the
                     sensitive appetitive than in the sensitive apprehensive part.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q22_A2-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> Augustine says (De Civ. Dei ix, 4) that "the movement of the soul, which the Greeks called {pathe}, are styled by some of
                     our writers, Cicero [*Those things which the Greeks call {pathe}, we prefer to call disturbances rather than diseases (Tusc.
                     iv. 5)] for instance, disturbances; by some, affections or emotions; while others rendering the Greek more accurately, call
                     them passions." From this it is evident that the passions of the soul are the same as
                     affections. But affections manifestly belong to the appetitive, and not to the apprehensive part. Therefore the passions are
                     in the appetitive rather than in the apprehensive part.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q22_A2-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> As we have already stated 
                     <a id="FS_Q22_A2-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q22_A1.html">(A[1])</a> the word "passion" implies that the patient is drawn to that which belongs to the agent. Now the soul is drawn to a thing
                     by the appetitive power rather than by the apprehensive power: because the soul has, through its appetitive power, an order
                     to things as they are in themselves: hence the Philosopher says (Metaph. vi, 4) that "good and evil," i.e. the objects of
                     the appetitive power, "are in things
                     themselves." On the other hand the apprehensive power is not drawn to a thing, as it is in itself; but knows it by reason
                     of an "intention" of the thing, which "intention" it has in itself, or receives in its own way. Hence we find it stated (Metaph.
                     vi, 4) that "the true and the false," which pertain to knowledge, "are not in things, but in the mind." Consequently it is
                     evident that the nature of passion is consistent with the appetitive, rather than with the apprehensive part.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q22_A2-p7">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> In things relating to perfection the case is the opposite, in comparison to things that pertain to defect. Because in things
                     relating to perfection, intensity is in proportion to the approach to one first principle; to which the nearer a thing approaches,
                     the more intense it is. Thus the intensity of a thing possessed of light depends on its approach to something endowed with
                     light in a supreme degree, to which the nearer a thing approaches the more
                     light it possesses. But in things that relate to defect, intensity depends, not on approach to something supreme, but in receding
                     from that which is perfect; because therein consists the very notion of privation and defect. Wherefore the less a thing recedes
                     from that which stands first, the less intense it is: and the result is that at first we always find some small defect, which
                     afterwards increases as it goes on. Now passion pertains to defect, because it belongs to a thing according as it
                     is in potentiality. Wherefore in those things that approach to the Supreme Perfection, i.e. to God, there is but little potentiality
                     and passion: while in other things, consequently, there is more. Hence also, in the supreme, i.e. the apprehensive, power
                     of the soul, passion is found less than in the other powers.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q22_A2-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> The appetitive power is said to be more active, because it is, more than the apprehensive power, the principle of the exterior
                     action: and this for the same reason that it is more passive, namely, its being related to things as existing in themselves:
                     since it is through the external action that we come into contact with things.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q22_A2-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> As stated in the 
                     <a id="FS_Q22_A2-p9.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FP_Q78_A3.html">FP, Q[78], A[3]</a> the organs of the soul can be changed in two ways. First, by a spiritual change, in respect of which the organ receives an
                     "intention" of the object. And this is essential to the act of the sensitive apprehension: thus is the eye changed by the
                     object visible, not by being colored, but by receiving an intention of color. But the organs are receptive of another and
                     natural change, which affects
                     their natural disposition; for instance, when they become hot or cold, or undergo some similar change. And whereas this kind
                     of change is accidental to the act of the sensitive apprehension; for instance, if the eye be wearied through gazing intently
                     at something or be overcome by the intensity of the object: on the other hand, it is essential to the act of the sensitive
                     appetite; wherefore the material element in the definitions of the movements of the appetitive part, is the natural change
                     of
                     the organ; for instance, "anger is" said to be "a kindling of the blood about the heart." Hence it is evident that the notion
                     of passion is more consistent with the act of the sensitive appetite, than with that of the sensitive apprehension, although
                     both are actions of a corporeal organ.
                  </p>
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                  <h4 id="FS_Q22_A3-p0.1">Whether passion is in the sensitive appetite rather than in the intellectual appetite, which is called the will?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q22_A3-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q22_A3-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that passion is not more in the sensitive than in the intellectual appetite. For Dionysius declares (Div. Nom.
                     ii) Hierotheus "to be taught by a kind of yet more Godlike instruction; not only by learning Divine things, but also by suffering
                     [patiens] them." But the sensitive appetite cannot "suffer" Divine things, since its object is the sensible good. Therefore
                     passion is in the intellectual appetite, just as it is also in the sensitive
                     appetite.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q22_A3-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, the more powerful the active force, the more intense the passion. But the object of the intellectual appetite, which
                     is the universal good, is a more powerful active force than the object of the sensitive appetite, which is a particular good.
                     Therefore passion is more consistent with the intellectual than with the sensitive appetite.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q22_A3-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, joy and love are said to be passions. But these are to be found in the intellectual and not only in the sensitive
                     appetite: else they would not be ascribed by the Scriptures to God and the angels. Therefore the passions are not more in
                     the sensitive than in the intellectual appetite.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q22_A3-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> Damascene says (De Fide Orth. ii, 22), while describing the animal passions: "Passion is a movement of the sensitive appetite
                     when we imagine good or evil: in other words, passion is a movement of the irrational soul, when we think of good or evil."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q22_A3-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> As stated above 
                     <a id="FS_Q22_A3-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q22_A1.html">(A[1])</a> passion is properly to be found where there is corporeal transmutation. This corporeal transmutation is found in the act
                     of the sensitive appetite, and is not only spiritual, as in the sensitive apprehension, but also natural. Now there is no
                     need for corporeal transmutation in the act of the intellectual appetite: because this appetite is not exercised by means
                     of a corporeal organ. It is therefore evident
                     that passion is more properly in the act of the sensitive appetite, than in that of the intellectual appetite; and this is
                     again evident from the definitions of Damascene quoted above.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q22_A3-p7">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> By "suffering" Divine things is meant being well affected towards them, and united to them by love: and this takes place
                     without any alteration in the body.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q22_A3-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> Intensity of passion depends not only on the power of the agent, but also on the passibility of the patient: because things
                     that are disposed to passion, suffer much even from petty agents. Therefore although the object of the intellectual appetite
                     has greater activity than the object of the sensitive appetite, yet the sensitive appetite is more passive.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q22_A3-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> When love and joy and the like are ascribed to God or the angels, or to man in respect of his intellectual appetite, they
                     signify simple acts of the will having like effects, but without passion. Hence Augustine says (De Civ. Dei ix, 5): "The holy
                     angels feel no anger while they punish . . . no fellow-feeling with misery while they relieve the unhappy: and yet ordinary
                     human speech is wont to ascribe to them also these passions by name, because,
                     although they have none of our weakness, their acts bear a certain resemblance to ours."
                  </p>
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               <h3 id="FS_Q23-p0.1">HOW THE PASSIONS DIFFER FROM ONE ANOTHER (FOUR ARTICLES)</h3>
               <p id="FS_Q23-p1"></p>
               <p id="FS_Q23-p2"> We must now consider how the passions differ from one another: and under this head there are four points of inquiry:</p>
               <p id="FS_Q23-p3"> (1) Whether the passions of the concupiscible part are different from those of the irascible part?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q23-p4"> (2) Whether the contrariety of passions in the irascible part is based on the contrariety of good and evil?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q23-p5"> (3) Whether there is any passion that has no contrary?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q23-p6"> (4) Whether, in the same power, there are any passions, differing in species, but not contrary to one another?</p>
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                  <a href="summa.FS_Q23.html"></a>
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                  <h4 id="FS_Q23_A1-p0.1">Whether the passions of the concupiscible part are different from those of the irascible part?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q23_A1-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q23_A1-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that the same passions are in the irascible and concupiscible parts. For the Philosopher says (Ethic. ii, 5)
                     that the passions of the soul are those emotions "which are followed by joy or sorrow." But joy and sorrow are in the concupiscible
                     part. Therefore all the passions are in the concupiscible part, and not some in the irascible, others in the concupiscible
                     part.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q23_A1-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, on the words of
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q23_A1-p3.1" href="./asv.html#Matt.13.33" target="asv"> Mat. 13:33, </a> "The kingdom of heaven is like to leaven," etc., Jerome's gloss says: "We should have prudence in the reason; hatred of vice
                     in the irascible faculty; desire of virtue, in the concupiscible part." But hatred is in the concupiscible faculty, as also
                     is love, of which it is the contrary, as is stated in Topic. ii, 7. Therefore the same passion is in the concupiscible and
                     irascible faculties.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q23_A1-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, passions and actions differ specifically according to their objects. But the objects of the irascible and concupiscible
                     passions are the same, viz. good and evil. Therefore the same passions are in the irascible and concupiscible faculties.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q23_A1-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> The acts of the different powers differ in species; for instance, to see, and to hear. But the irascible and the concupiscible
                     are two powers into which the sensitive appetite is divided, as stated in the 
                     <a id="FS_Q23_A1-p5.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FP_Q81_A2.html">FP, Q[81], A[2]</a>. Therefore, since the passions are movements of the sensitive appetite, as stated above (Q[22], A[3]), the passions of the
                     irascible faculty are specifically distinct from those of the concupiscible part.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q23_A1-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> The passions of the irascible part differ in species from those of the concupiscible faculty. For since different powers
                     have different objects, as stated in the 
                     <a id="FS_Q23_A1-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FP_Q77_A3.html">FP, Q[77], A[3]</a>, the passions of different powers must of necessity be referred to different objects. Much more, therefore, do the passions
                     of different faculties differ in species; since a greater difference in the object is required to diversify the species of
                     the powers,
                     than to diversify the species of passions or actions. For just as in the physical order, diversity of genus arises from diversity
                     in the potentiality of matter, while diversity of species arises from diversity of form in the same matter; so in the acts
                     of the soul, those that belong to different powers, differ not only in species but also in genus, while acts and passions
                     regarding different specific objects, included under the one common object of a single power, differ as the species of that
                     genus.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q23_A1-p7"> In order, therefore, to discern which passions are in the irascible, and which in the concupiscible, we must take the object
                     of each of these powers. For we have stated in the 
                     <a id="FS_Q23_A1-p7.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FP_Q81_A2.html">FP, Q[81], A[2]</a>, that the object of the concupiscible power is sensible good or evil, simply apprehended as such, which causes pleasure or
                     pain. But, since the soul must, of necessity, experience difficulty or struggle at times, in acquiring some such good, or
                     in avoiding some such
                     evil, in so far as such good or evil is more than our animal nature can easily acquire or avoid; therefore this very good
                     or evil, inasmuch as it is of an arduous or difficult nature, is the object of the irascible faculty. Therefore whatever passions
                     regard good or evil absolutely, belong to the concupiscible power; for instance, joy, sorrow, love, hatred, and such like:
                     whereas those passions which regard good or bad as arduous, through being difficult to obtain or avoid, belong to the
                     irascible faculty; such are daring, fear, hope and the like.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q23_A1-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> As stated in the 
                     <a id="FS_Q23_A1-p8.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FP_Q81_A2.html">FP, Q[81], A[2]</a>, the irascible faculty is bestowed on animals, in order to remove the obstacles that hinder the concupiscible power from
                     tending towards its object, either by making some good difficult to obtain, or by making some evil hard to avoid. The result
                     is that all the irascible passions terminate in the concupiscible passions: and thus it is that even the passions which are
                     in the irascible faculty
                     are followed by joy and sadness which are in the concupiscible faculty.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q23_A1-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> Jerome ascribes hatred of vice to the irascible faculty, not by reason of hatred, which is properly a concupiscible passion;
                     but on account of the struggle, which belongs to the irascible power.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q23_A1-p10">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> Good, inasmuch as it is delightful, moves the concupiscible power. But if it prove difficult to obtain, from this very fact
                     it has a certain contrariety to the concupiscible power: and hence the need of another power tending to that good. The same
                     applies to evil. And this power is the irascible faculty. Consequently the concupiscible passions are specifically different
                     from the irascible passions.
                  </p>
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                  <h4 id="FS_Q23_A2-p0.1">Whether the contrariety of the irascible passions is based on the contrariety of good and evil?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q23_A2-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q23_A2-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that the contrariety of the irascible passions is based on no other contrariety than that of good and evil.
                     For the irascible passions are ordained to the concupiscible passions, as stated above (A[1], ad 1). But the contrariety of
                     the concupiscible passions is no other than that of good and evil; take, for instance, love and hatred, joy and sorrow. Therefore
                     the same applies to the irascible passions.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q23_A2-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, passions differ according to their objects; just as movements differ according to their termini. But there is no
                     other contrariety of movements, except that of the termini, as is stated in Phys. v, 3. Therefore there is no other contrariety
                     of passions, save that of the objects. Now the object of the appetite is good or evil. Therefore in no appetitive power can
                     there be contrariety of passions other than that of good and evil.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q23_A2-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, "every passion of the soul is by way of approach and withdrawal," as Avicenna declares in his sixth book of Physics.
                     Now approach results from the apprehension of good; withdrawal, from the apprehension of evil: since just as "good is what
                     all desire" (Ethic. i, 1), so evil is what all shun. Therefore, in the passions of the soul, there can be no other contrariety
                     than that of good and evil.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q23_A2-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> Fear and daring are contrary to one another, as stated in Ethic. iii, 7. But fear and daring do not differ in respect of
                     good and evil: because each regards some kind of evil. Therefore not every contrariety of the irascible passions is that of
                     good and evil.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q23_A2-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> Passion is a kind of movement, as stated in Phys. iii, 3. Therefore contrariety of passions is based on contrariety of movements
                     or changes. Now there is a twofold contrariety in changes and movements, as stated in Phys. v, 5. One is according to approach
                     and withdrawal in respect of the same term: and this contrariety belongs properly to changes, i.e. to generation, which is
                     a change "to being," and to corruption, which is a change "from being." The other
                     contrariety is according to opposition of termini, and belongs properly to movements: thus whitening, which is movement from
                     black to white, is contrary to blackening, which is movement from white to black.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q23_A2-p7"> Accordingly there is a twofold contrariety in the passions of the soul: one, according to contrariety of objects, i.e. of
                     good and evil; the other, according to approach and withdrawal in respect of the same term. In the concupiscible passions
                     the former contrariety alone is to be found; viz. that which is based on the objects: whereas in the irascible passions, we
                     find both forms of contrariety. The reason of this is that the object of the concupiscible faculty, as stated above
                     
                     <a id="FS_Q23_A2-p7.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q23_A1.html">(A[1])</a>, is sensible good or evil considered absolutely. Now good, as such, cannot be a term wherefrom, but only a term whereto,
                     since nothing shuns good as such; on the contrary, all things desire it. In like manner, nothing desires evil, as such; but
                     all things shun it: wherefore evil cannot have the aspect of a term whereto, but only of a term wherefrom. Accordingly every
                     concupiscible passion in respect of good, tends to it, as love, desire and joy; while every
                     concupiscible passion in respect of evil, tends from it, as hatred, avoidance or dislike, and sorrow. Wherefore, in the concupiscible
                     passions, there can be no contrariety of approach and withdrawal in respect of the same object.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q23_A2-p8"> On the other hand, the object of the irascible faculty is sensible good or evil, considered not absolutely, but under the
                     aspect of difficulty or arduousness. Now the good which is difficult or arduous, considered as good, is of such a nature as
                     to produce in us a tendency to it, which tendency pertains to the passion of "hope"; whereas, considered as arduous or difficult,
                     it makes us turn from it; and this pertains to the passion of "despair." In like manner the arduous evil,
                     considered as an evil, has the aspect of something to be shunned; and this belongs to the passion of "fear": but it also contains
                     a reason for tending to it, as attempting something arduous, whereby to escape being subject to evil; and this tendency is
                     called "daring." Consequently, in the irascible passions we find contrariety in respect of good and evil (as between hope
                     and fear): and also contrariety according to approach and withdrawal in respect of the same term (as between daring and
                     fear).
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q23_A2-p9"> From what has been said the replies to the objections are evident.</p>
                  <p id="FS_Q23_A2-p10"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q23_A2-p11"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q23_A1.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q23_A3.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q23_A3" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q23_A2.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q23_A4.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q23_A3-p0.1">Whether any passion of the soul has no contrariety?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q23_A3-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q23_A3-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that every passion of the soul has a contrary. For every passion of the soul is either in the irascible or
                     in the concupiscible faculty, as stated above 
                     <a id="FS_Q23_A3-p2.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q23_A1.html">(A[1])</a>. But both kinds of passion have their respective modes of contrariety. Therefore every passion of the soul has its contrary.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q23_A3-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, every passion of the soul has either good or evil for its object; for these are the common objects of the appetitive
                     part. But a passion having good for its object, is contrary to a passion having evil for its object. Therefore every passion
                     has a contrary.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q23_A3-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, every passion of the soul is in respect of approach or withdrawal, as stated above 
                     <a id="FS_Q23_A3-p4.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q23_A2.html">(A[2])</a>. But every approach has a corresponding contrary withdrawal, and vice versa. Therefore every passion of the soul has a contrary.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q23_A3-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> Anger is a passion of the soul. But no passion is set down as being contrary to anger, as stated in Ethic. iv, 5. Therefore
                     not every passion has a contrary.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q23_A3-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> The passion of anger is peculiar in this, that it cannot have a contrary, either according to approach and withdrawal, or
                     according to the contrariety of good and evil. For anger is caused by a difficult evil already present: and when such an evil
                     is present, the appetite must needs either succumb, so that it does not go beyond the limits of "sadness," which is a concupiscible
                     passion; or else it has a movement of attack on the hurtful evil, which movement
                     is that of "anger." But it cannot have a movement of withdrawal: because the evil is supposed to be already present or past.
                     Thus no passion is contrary to anger according to contrariety of approach and withdrawal.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q23_A3-p7"> In like manner neither can there be according to contrariety of good and evil. Because the opposite of present evil is good
                     obtained, which can be no longer have the aspect of arduousness or difficulty. Nor, when once good is obtained, does there
                     remain any other movement, except the appetite's repose in the good obtained; which repose belongs to joy, which is a passion
                     of the concupiscible faculty.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q23_A3-p8"> Accordingly no movement of the soul can be contrary to the movement of anger, and nothing else than cessation from its movement
                     is contrary thereto; thus the Philosopher says (Rhet. ii, 3) that "calm is contrary to anger," by opposition not of contrariety
                     but of negation or privation.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q23_A3-p9"> From what has been said the replies to the objections are evident.</p>
                  <p id="FS_Q23_A3-p10"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q23_A3-p11"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q23_A2.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q23_A4.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q23_A4" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q23_A3.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q24.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q23_A4-p0.1">Whether in the same power, there are any passions, specifically different, but not contrary to one another?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q23_A4-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q23_A4-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that there cannot be, in the same power, specifically different passions that are not contrary to one another.
                     For the passions of the soul differ according to their objects. Now the objects of the soul's passions are good and evil;
                     and on this distinction is based the contrariety of the passions. Therefore no passions of the same power, that are not contrary
                     to one another, differ specifically.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q23_A4-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, difference of species implies a difference of form. But every difference of form is in respect of some contrariety,
                     as stated in Metaph. x, 8. Therefore passions of the same power, that are not contrary to one another, do not differ specifically.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q23_A4-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, since every passion of the soul consists in approach or withdrawal in respect of good or evil, it seems that every
                     difference in the passions of the soul must needs arise from the difference of good and evil; or from the difference of approach
                     and withdrawal; or from degrees in approach or withdrawal. Now the first two differences cause contrariety in the passions
                     of the soul, as stated above 
                     <a id="FS_Q23_A4-p4.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q23_A2.html">(A[2])</a>: whereas the third
                     difference does not diversify the species; else the species of the soul's passions would be infinite. Therefore it is not
                     possible for passions of the same power to differ in species, without being contrary to one another.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q23_A4-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> Love and joy differ in species, and are in the concupiscible power; and yet they are not contrary to one another; rather,
                     in fact, one causes the other. Therefore in the same power there are passions that differ in species without being contrary
                     to one another.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q23_A4-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> Passions differ in accordance with their active causes, which, in the case of the passions of the soul, are their objects.
                     Now, the difference in active causes may be considered in two ways: first, from the point of view of their species or nature,
                     as fire differs from water; secondly, from the point of view of the difference in their active power. In the passions of the
                     soul we can treat the difference of their active or motive causes in respect of their
                     motive power, as if they were natural agents. For every mover, in a fashion, either draws the patient to itself, or repels
                     it from itself. Now in drawing it to itself, it does three things in the patient. Because, in the first place, it gives the
                     patient an inclination or aptitude to tend to the mover: thus a light body, which is above, bestows lightness on the body
                     generated, so that it has an inclination or aptitude to be above. Secondly, if the generated body be outside its proper place,
                     the
                     mover gives it movement towards that place. Thirdly, it makes it to rest, when it shall have come to its proper place: since
                     to the same cause are due, both rest in a place, and the movement to that place. The same applies to the cause of repulsion.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q23_A4-p7"> Now, in the movements of the appetitive faculty, good has, as it were, a force of attraction, while evil has a force of repulsion.
                     In the first place, therefore, good causes, in the appetitive power, a certain inclination, aptitude or connaturalness in
                     respect of good: and this belongs to the passion of "love": the corresponding contrary of which is "hatred" in respect of
                     evil. Secondly, if the good be not yet possessed, it causes in the appetite a movement towards the
                     attainment of the good beloved: and this belongs to the passion of "desire" or "concupiscence": and contrary to it, in respect
                     of evil, is the passion of "aversion" or "dislike." Thirdly, when the good is obtained, it causes the appetite to rest, as
                     it were, in the good obtained: and this belongs to the passion of "delight" or "joy"; the contrary of which, in respect of
                     evil, is "sorrow" or "sadness."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q23_A4-p8"> On the other hand, in the irascible passions, the aptitude, or inclination to seek good, or to shun evil, is presupposed
                     as arising from the concupiscible faculty, which regards good or evil absolutely. And in respect of good not yet obtained,
                     we have "hope" and "despair." In respect of evil not yet present we have "fear" and "daring." But in respect of good obtained
                     there is no irascible passion: because it is no longer considered in the light of something arduous, as stated
                     above 
                     <a id="FS_Q23_A4-p8.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q23_A3.html">(A[3])</a>. But evil already present gives rise to the passion of "anger."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q23_A4-p9"> Accordingly it is clear that in the concupiscible faculty there are three couples of passions; viz. love and hatred, desire
                     and aversion, joy and sadness. In like manner there are three groups in the irascible faculty; viz. hope and despair, fear
                     and daring, and anger which has not contrary passion.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q23_A4-p10"> Consequently there are altogether eleven passions differing specifically; six in the concupiscible faculty, and five in the
                     irascible; and under these all the passions of the soul are contained.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q23_A4-p11"> From this the replies to the objections are evident.</p>
                  <p id="FS_Q23_A4-p12"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q23_A4-p13"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q23_A3.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q24.html"></a>
               </div>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q22_A3.html"></a>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q23_A1.html"></a>
            </div>
            <div id="FS_Q24" class="div3">
               <a href="summa.FS_Q23_A4.html"></a>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q24_A1.html"></a>
               <h3 id="FS_Q24-p0.1">OF GOOD AND EVIL IN THE PASSIONS OF THE SOUL (FOUR ARTICLES)</h3>
               <p id="FS_Q24-p1"></p>
               <p id="FS_Q24-p2"> We must now consider good and evil in the passions of the soul: and under this head there are four points of inquiry:</p>
               <p id="FS_Q24-p3"> (1) Whether moral good and evil can be found in the passions of the soul?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q24-p4"> (2) Whether every passion of the soul is morally evil?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q24-p5"> (3) Whether every passion increases or decreases the goodness of malice of an act?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q24-p6"> (4) Whether any passion is good or evil specifically?</p>
               <div id="FS_Q24_A1" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q24.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q24_A2.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q24_A1-p0.1">Whether moral good and evil can be found in the passions of the soul?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q24_A1-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q24_A1-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that no passion of the soul is morally good or evil. For moral good and evil are proper to man: since "morals
                     are properly predicated of man," as Ambrose says (Super Luc. Prolog.). But passions are not proper to man, for he has them
                     in common with other animals. Therefore no passion of the soul is morally good or evil.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q24_A1-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, the good or evil of man consists in "being in accord, or in disaccord with reason," as Dionysius says (Div. Nom.
                     iv). Now the passions of the soul are not in the reason, but in the sensitive appetite, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q24_A1-p3.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q22_A3.html">Q[22], A[3]</a>). Therefore they have no connection with human, i.e. moral, good or evil.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q24_A1-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, the Philosopher says (Ethic. ii, 5) that "we are neither praised nor blamed for our passions." But we are praised
                     and blamed for moral good and evil. Therefore the passions are not morally good or evil.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q24_A1-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> Augustine says (De Civ. Dei xiv, 7) while speaking of the passions of the soul: "They are evil if our love is evil; good
                     if our love is good."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q24_A1-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> We may consider the passions of the soul in two ways: first, in themselves; secondly, as being subject to the command of
                     the reason and will. If then the passions be considered in themselves, to wit, as movements of the irrational appetite, thus
                     there is no moral good or evil in them, since this depends on the reason, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q24_A1-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q18_A5.html">Q[18] , A[5]</a>). If, however, they be considered as subject to the command of the reason and will,
                     then moral good and evil are in them. Because the sensitive appetite is nearer than the outward members to the reason and
                     will; and yet the movements and actions of the outward members are morally good or evil, inasmuch as they are voluntary. Much
                     more, therefore, may the passions, in so far as they are voluntary, be called morally good or evil. And they are said to be
                     voluntary, either from being commanded by the will, or from not being checked by the will.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q24_A1-p7">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> These passions, considered in themselves, are common to man and other animals: but, as commanded by the reason, they are
                     proper to man.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q24_A1-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> Even the lower appetitive powers are called rational, in so far as "they partake of reason in some sort" (Ethic. i, 13).
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q24_A1-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> The Philosopher says that we are neither praised nor blamed for our passions considered absolutely; but he does not exclude
                     their becoming worthy of praise or blame, in so far as they are subordinate to reason. Hence he continues: "For the man who
                     fears or is angry, is not praised . . . or blamed, but the man who is angry in a certain way, i.e. according to, or against
                     reason."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q24_A1-p10"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q24_A1-p11"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q24.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q24_A2.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q24_A2" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q24_A1.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q24_A3.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q24_A2-p0.1">Whether every passion of the soul is evil morally?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q24_A2-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q24_A2-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that all the passions of the soul are morally evil. For Augustine says (De Civ. Dei ix, 4) that "some call
                     the soul's passions diseases or disturbances of the soul" [*Those things which the Greeks call {pathe}, we prefer to call
                     disturbances rather than diseases (Tusc. iv. 5)]. But every disease or disturbance of the soul is morally evil. Therefore
                     every passion of the soul is evil morally.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q24_A2-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, Damascene says (De Fide Orth. ii, 22) that "movement in accord with nature is an action, but movement contrary to
                     nature is passion." But in movements of the soul, what is against nature is sinful and morally evil: hence he says elsewhere
                     (De Fide Orth. ii, 4) that "the devil turned from that which is in accord with nature to that which is against nature." Therefore
                     these passions are morally evil.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q24_A2-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, whatever leads to sin, has an aspect of evil. But these passions lead to sin: wherefore they are called "the passions
                     of sins" (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q24_A2-p4.1" href="./asv.html#Rom.7.5" target="asv">Rom. 7:5</a>). Therefore it seems that they are morally evil.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q24_A2-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> Augustine says (De Civ. Dei xiv, 9) that "all these emotions are right in those whose love is rightly placed . . . For they
                     fear to sin, they desire to persevere; they grieve for sin, they rejoice in good works."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q24_A2-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> On this question the opinion of the Stoics differed from that of the Peripatetics: for the Stoics held that all passions
                     are evil, while the Peripatetics maintained that moderate passions are good. This difference, although it appears great in
                     words, is nevertheless, in reality, none at all, or but little, if we consider the intent of either school. For the Stoics
                     did not discern between sense and intellect; and consequently neither between the intellectual
                     and sensitive appetite. Hence they did not discriminate the passions of the soul from the movements of the will, in so far
                     as the passions of the soul are in the sensitive appetite, while the simple movements of the will are in the intellectual
                     appetite: but every rational movement of the appetitive part they call will, while they called passion, a movement that exceeds
                     the limits of reason. Wherefore Cicero, following their opinion (De Tusc. Quaest. iii, 4) calls all passions "diseases of
                     the
                     soul": whence he argues that "those who are diseased are unsound; and those who are unsound are wanting in sense." Hence we
                     speak of those who are wanting in sense of being "unsound."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q24_A2-p7"> On the other hand, the Peripatetics give the name of "passions" to all the movements of the sensitive appetite. Wherefore
                     they esteem them good, when they are controlled by reason; and evil when they are not controlled by reason. Hence it is evident
                     that Cicero was wrong in disapproving (De Tusc. Quaest. iii, 4) of the Peripatetic theory of a mean in the passions, when
                     he says that "every evil, though moderate, should be shunned; for, just as a body, though it be moderately
                     ailing, is not sound; so, this mean in the diseases or passions of the soul, is not sound." For passions are not called "diseases"
                     or "disturbances" of the soul, save when they are not controlled by reason.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q24_A2-p8"> Hence the reply to the First Objection is evident.</p>
                  <p id="FS_Q24_A2-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> In every passion there is an increase or decrease in the natural movement of the heart, according as the heart is moved more
                     or less intensely by contraction and dilatation; and hence it derives the character of passion. But there is no need for passion
                     to deviate always from the order of natural reason.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q24_A2-p10">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> The passions of the soul, in so far as they are contrary to the order of reason, incline us to sin: but in so far as they
                     are controlled by reason, they pertain to virtue.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q24_A2-p11"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q24_A2-p12"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q24_A1.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q24_A3.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q24_A3" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q24_A2.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q24_A4.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q24_A3-p0.1">Whether passion increases or decreases the goodness or malice of an act?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q24_A3-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q24_A3-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that every passion decreases the goodness of a moral action. For anything that hinders the judgment of reason,
                     on which depends the goodness of a moral act, consequently decreases the goodness of the moral act. But every passion hinders
                     the judgment of reason: for Sallust says (Catilin.): "All those that take counsel about matters of doubt, should be free from
                     hatred, anger, friendship and pity." Therefore passion decreases the goodness of a
                     moral act.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q24_A3-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, the more a man's action is like to God, the better it is: hence the Apostle says (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q24_A3-p3.1" href="./asv.html#Eph.5.1" target="asv">Eph. 5:1</a>): "Be ye followers of God, as most dear children." But "God and the holy angels feel no anger when they punish . . . no fellow-feeling
                     with misery when they relieve the unhappy," as Augustine says (De Civ. Dei ix, 5). Therefore it is better to do such like
                     deeds without than with a passion of the soul.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q24_A3-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, just as moral evil depends on its relation to reason, so also does moral good. But moral evil is lessened by passion:
                     for he sins less, who sins from passion, than he who sins deliberately. Therefore he does a better deed, who does well without
                     passion, than he who does with passion.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q24_A3-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> Augustine says (De Civ. Dei ix, 5) that "the passion of pity is obedient to reason, when pity is bestowed without violating
                     right, as when the poor are relieved, or the penitent forgiven." But nothing that is obedient to reason lessens the moral
                     good. Therefore a passion of the soul does not lessen moral good.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q24_A3-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> As the Stoics held that every passion of the soul is evil, they consequently held that every passion of the soul lessens
                     the goodness of an act; since the admixture of evil either destroys good altogether, or makes it to be less good. And this
                     is true indeed, if by passions we understand none but the inordinate movements of the sensitive appetite, considered as disturbances
                     or ailments. But if we give the name of passions to all the movements of the
                     sensitive appetite, then it belongs to the perfection of man's good that his passions be moderated by reason. For since man's
                     good is founded on reason as its root, that good will be all the more perfect, according as it extends to more things pertaining
                     to man. Wherefore no one questions the fact that it belongs to the perfection of moral good, that the actions of the outward
                     members be controlled by the law of reason. Hence, since the sensitive appetite can obey reason, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q24_A3-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q17_A7.html">Q[17], A[7]</a>), it belongs to the perfection of moral or human good, that the passions themselves also should be controlled by reason.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q24_A3-p7"> Accordingly just as it is better that man should both will good and do it in his external act; so also does it belong to
                     the perfection of moral good, that man should be moved unto good, not only in respect of his will, but also in respect of
                     his sensitive appetite; according to
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q24_A3-p7.1" href="./asv.html#Ps.83.3" target="asv"> Ps. 83:3</a>: "My heart and my flesh have rejoiced in the living God": where by "heart" we are to understand the intellectual appetite,
                     and by "flesh" the sensitive appetite.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q24_A3-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> The passions of the soul may stand in a twofold relation to the judgment of reason. First, antecedently: and thus, since
                     they obscure the judgment of reason, on which the goodness of the moral act depends, they diminish the goodness of the act;
                     for it is more praiseworthy to do a work of charity from the judgment of reason than from the mere passion of pity. In the
                     second place, consequently: and this in two ways. First, by way of redundance: because,
                     to wit, when the higher part of the soul is intensely moved to anything, the lower part also follows that movement: and thus
                     the passion that results in consequence, in the sensitive appetite, is a sign of the intensity of the will, and so indicates
                     greater moral goodness. Secondly, by way of choice; when, to wit, a man, by the judgment of his reason, chooses to be affected
                     by a passion in order to work more promptly with the co-operation of the sensitive appetite. And thus a passion of the
                     soul increases the goodness of an action.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q24_A3-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> In God and the angels there is no sensitive appetite, nor again bodily members: and so in them good does not depend on the
                     right ordering of passions or of bodily actions, as it does in us.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q24_A3-p10">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> A passion that tends to evil, and precedes the judgment of reason, diminishes sin; but if it be consequent in either of the
                     ways mentioned above (Reply OBJ 1), it aggravates the sin, or else it is a sign of its being more grievous.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q24_A3-p11"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q24_A3-p12"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q24_A2.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q24_A4.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q24_A4" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q24_A3.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q25.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q24_A4-p0.1">Whether any passion is good or evil in its species?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q24_A4-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q24_A4-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that no passion of the soul is good or evil morally according to its species. Because moral good and evil depend
                     on reason. But the passions are in the sensitive appetite; so that accordance with reason is accidental to them. Since, therefore,
                     nothing accidental belongs to a thing's species, it seems that no passion is good or evil according to its species.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q24_A4-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, acts and passions take their species from their object. If, therefore, any passion were good or evil, according
                     to its species, it would follow that those passions the object of which is good, are specifically good, such as love, desire
                     and joy: and that those passions, the object of which is evil, are specifically evil, as hatred, fear and sadness. But this
                     is clearly false. Therefore no passion is good or evil according to its species.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q24_A4-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, there is no species of passion that is not to be found in other animals. But moral good is in man alone. Therefore
                     no passion of the soul is good or evil according to its species.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q24_A4-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> Augustine says (De Civ. Dei ix, 5) that "pity is a kind of virtue." Moreover, the Philosopher says (Ethic. ii, 7) that modesty
                     is a praiseworthy passion. Therefore some passions are good or evil according to their species.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q24_A4-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> We ought, seemingly, to apply to passions what has been said in regard to acts (
                     <a id="FS_Q24_A4-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q18_A5.html">Q[18], AA[5]</a>,6;
                     <a id="FS_Q24_A4-p6.2" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q20_A1.html"> Q[20], A[1]</a>)---viz. that the species of a passion, as the species of an act, can be considered from two points of view. First, according
                     to its natural genus; and thus moral good and evil have no connection with the species of an act or passion. Secondly, according
                     to its moral genus, inasmuch as it is voluntary
                     and controlled by reason. In this way moral good and evil can belong to the species of a passion, in so far as the object
                     to which a passion tends, is, of itself, in harmony or in discord with reason: as is clear in the case of "shame" which is
                     base fear; and of "envy" which is sorrow for another's good: for thus passions belong to the same species as the external
                     act.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q24_A4-p7">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> This argument considers the passions in their natural species, in so far as the sensitive appetite is considered in itself.
                     But in so far as the sensitive appetite obeys reason, good and evil of reason are no longer accidentally in the passions of
                     the appetite, but essentially.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q24_A4-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> Passions having a tendency to good, are themselves good, if they tend to that which is truly good, and in like manner, if
                     they turn away from that which is truly evil. On the other hand, those passions which consist in aversion from good, and a
                     tendency to evil, are themselves evil.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q24_A4-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> In irrational animals the sensitive appetite does not obey reason. Nevertheless, in so far as they are led by a kind of estimative
                     power, which is subject to a higher, i.e. the Divine reason, there is a certain likeness of moral good in them, in regard
                     to the soul's passions.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q24_A4-p10"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q24_A4-p11"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q24_A3.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q25.html"></a>
               </div>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q23_A4.html"></a>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q24_A1.html"></a>
            </div>
            <div id="FS_Q25" class="div3">
               <a href="summa.FS_Q24_A4.html"></a>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q25_A1.html"></a>
               <h3 id="FS_Q25-p0.1">OF THE ORDER OF THE PASSIONS TO ONE ANOTHER (FOUR ARTICLES)</h3>
               <p id="FS_Q25-p1"></p>
               <p id="FS_Q25-p2"> We must now consider the order of the passions to one another: and under this head there are four points of inquiry:</p>
               <p id="FS_Q25-p3"> (1) The relation of the irascible passions to the concupiscible passions;</p>
               <p id="FS_Q25-p4"> (2) The relation of the concupiscible passions to one another;</p>
               <p id="FS_Q25-p5"> (3) The relation of the irascible passions to one another;</p>
               <p id="FS_Q25-p6"> (4) The four principal passions.</p>
               <div id="FS_Q25_A1" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q25.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q25_A2.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q25_A1-p0.1">Whether the irascible passions precede the concupiscible passions, or vice versa?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q25_A1-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q25_A1-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that the irascible passions precede the concupiscible passions. For the order of the passions is that of their
                     objects. But the object of the irascible faculty is the difficult good, which seems to be the highest good. Therefore the
                     irascible passions seem to precede the concupiscible passions.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q25_A1-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, the mover precedes that which is moved. But the irascible faculty is compared to the concupiscible, as mover to
                     that which is moved: since it is given to animals, for the purposed of removing the obstacles that hinder the concupiscible
                     faculty from enjoying its object, as stated above (Q[23], A[1], ad 1; 
                     <a id="FS_Q25_A1-p3.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FP_Q81_A2.html">FP, Q[81], A[2]</a> ). Now "that which removes an obstacle, is a kind of mover" (Phys. viii, 4). Therefore the irascible
                     passions precede the concupiscible passions.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q25_A1-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, joy and sadness are concupiscible passions. But joy and sadness succeed to the irascible passions: for the Philosopher
                     says (Ethic. iv, 5) that"retaliation causes anger to cease, because it produces pleasure instead of the previous pain." Therefore
                     the concupiscible passions follow the irascible passions.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q25_A1-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> The concupiscible passions regard the absolute good, while the irascible passions regard a restricted, viz. the difficult,
                     good. Since, therefore, the absolute good precedes the restricted good, it seems that the concupiscible passions precede the
                     irascible.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q25_A1-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> In the concupiscible passions there is more diversity than in the passions of the irascible faculty. For in the former we
                     find something relating to movement---e.g. desire; and something belonging to repose, e.g. joy and sadness. But in the irascible
                     passions there is nothing pertaining to repose, and only that which belongs to movement. The reason of this is that when we
                     find rest in a thing, we no longer look upon it as something difficult or arduous;
                     whereas such is the object of the irascible faculty.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q25_A1-p7"> Now since rest is the end of movement, it is first in the order of intention, but last in the order of execution. If, therefore,
                     we compare the passions of the irascible faculty with those concupiscible passions that denote rest in good, it is evident
                     that in the order of execution, the irascible passions take precedence of such like passions of the concupiscible faculty:
                     thus hope precedes joy, and hence causes it, according to the Apostle (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q25_A1-p7.1" href="./asv.html#Rom.12.12" target="asv">Rom. 12:12</a>):
                     "Rejoicing in hope." But the concupiscible passion which denotes rest in evil, viz. sadness, comes between two irascible passions:
                     because it follows fear; since we become sad when we are confronted by the evil that we feared: while it precedes the movement
                     of anger; since the movement of self-vindication, that results from sadness, is the movement of anger. And because it is looked
                     upon as a good thing to pay back the evil done to us; when the angry man has achieved this he rejoices. Thus it
                     is evident that every passion of the irascible faculty terminates in a concupiscible passion denoting rest, viz. either in
                     joy or in sadness.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q25_A1-p8"> But if we compare the irascible passions to those concupiscible passions that denote movement, then it is clear that the
                     latter take precedence: because the passions of the irascible faculty add something to those of the concupiscible faculty;
                     just as the object of the irascible adds the aspect of arduousness or difficulty to the object of the concupiscible faculty.
                     Thus hope adds to desire a certain effort, and a certain raising of the spirits to the realization of the arduous
                     good. In like manner fear adds to aversion or detestation a certain lowness of spirits, on account of difficulty in shunning
                     the evil.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q25_A1-p9"> Accordingly the passions of the irascible faculty stand between those concupiscible passions that denote movement towards
                     good or evil, and those concupiscible passions that denote rest in good or evil. And it is therefore evident that the irascible
                     passions both arise from and terminate in the passions of the concupiscible faculty.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q25_A1-p10">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> This argument would prove, if the formal object of the concupiscible faculty were something contrary to the arduous, just
                     as the formal object of the irascible faculty is that which is arduous. But because the object of the concupiscible faculty
                     is good absolutely, it naturally precedes the object of the irascible, as the common precedes the proper.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q25_A1-p11">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> The remover of an obstacle is not a direct but an accidental mover: and here we are speaking of passions as directly related
                     to one another. Moreover, the irascible passion removes the obstacle that hinders the concupiscible from resting in its object.
                     Wherefore it only follows that the irascible passions precede those concupiscible passions that connote rest. The third object
                     leads to the same conclusion.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q25_A1-p12"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q25_A1-p13"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q25.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q25_A2.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q25_A2" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q25_A1.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q25_A3.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q25_A2-p0.1">Whether love is the first of the concupiscible passions?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q25_A2-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q25_A2-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that love is not the first of the concupiscible passions. For the concupiscible faculty is so called from concupiscence,
                     which is the same passion as desire. But "things are named from their chief characteristic" (De Anima ii, 4). Therefore desire
                     takes precedence of love.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q25_A2-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, love implies a certain union; since it is a "uniting and binding force," as Dionysius says (Div. Nom. iv). But concupiscence
                     or desire is a movement towards union with the thing coveted or desired. Therefore desire precedes love.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q25_A2-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, the cause precedes its effect. But pleasure is sometimes the cause of love: since some love on account of pleasure
                     (Ethic. viii, 3,4). Therefore pleasure precedes love; and consequently love is not the first of the concupiscible passions.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q25_A2-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> Augustine says (De Civ. Dei xiv, 7,9) that all the passions are caused by love: since "love yearning for the beloved object,
                     is desire; and, having and enjoying it, is joy." Therefore love is the first of the concupiscible passions.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q25_A2-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> Good and evil are the object of the concupiscible faculty. Now good naturally precedes evil; since evil is privation of good.
                     Wherefore all the passions, the object of which is good, are naturally before those, the object of which is evil---that is
                     to say, each precedes its contrary passion: because the quest of a good is the reason for shunning the opposite evil.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q25_A2-p7"> Now good has the aspect of an end, and the end is indeed first in the order of intention, but last in the order of execution.
                     Consequently the order of the concupiscible passions can be considered either in the order of intention or in the order of
                     execution. In the order of execution, the first place belongs to that which takes place first in the thing that tends to the
                     end. Now it is evident that whatever tends to an end, has, in the first place, an aptitude or proportion to
                     that end, for nothing tends to a disproportionate end; secondly, it is moved to that end; thirdly, it rests in the end, after
                     having attained it. And this very aptitude or proportion of the appetite to good is love, which is complacency in good; while
                     movement towards good is desire or concupiscence; and rest in good is joy or pleasure. Accordingly in this order, love precedes
                     desire, and desire precedes pleasure. But in the order of intention, it is the reverse: because the pleasure intended
                     causes desire and love. For pleasure is the enjoyment of the good, which enjoyment is, in a way, the end, just as the good
                     itself is, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q25_A2-p7.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q11_A3.html">Q[11], A[3]</a>, ad 3).
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q25_A2-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> We name a thing as we understand it, for "words are signs of thoughts," as the Philosopher states (Peri Herm. i, 1). Now
                     in most cases we know a cause by its effect. But the effect of love, when the beloved object is possessed, is pleasure: when
                     it is not possessed, it is desire or concupiscence: and, as Augustine says (De Trin. x, 12), "we are more sensible to love,
                     when we lack that which we love." Consequently of all the concupiscible passions,
                     concupiscence is felt most; and for this reason the power is named after it.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q25_A2-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> The union of lover and beloved is twofold. There is real union, consisting in the conjunction of one with the other. This
                     union belongs to joy or pleasure, which follows desire. There is also an affective union, consisting in an aptitude or proportion,
                     in so far as one thing, from the very fact of its having an aptitude for and an inclination to another, partakes of it: and
                     love betokens such a union. This union precedes the movement of desire.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q25_A2-p10">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> Pleasure causes love, in so far as it precedes love in the order of intention.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q25_A2-p11"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q25_A2-p12"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q25_A1.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q25_A3.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q25_A3" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q25_A2.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q25_A4.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q25_A3-p0.1">Whether hope is the first of the irascible passions?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q25_A3-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q25_A3-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that hope is not the first of the irascible passions. Because the irascible faculty is denominated from anger.
                     Since, therefore, "things are names from their chief characteristic" (cf. A[2], OBJ[1]), it seems that anger precedes and
                     surpasses hope.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q25_A3-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, the object of the irascible faculty is something arduous. Now it seems more arduous to strive to overcome a contrary
                     evil that threatens soon to overtake us, which pertains to daring; or an evil actually present, which pertains to anger; than
                     to strive simply to obtain some good. Again, it seems more arduous to strive to overcome a present evil, than a future evil.
                     Therefore anger seems to be a stronger passion than daring, and daring, than hope. And
                     consequently it seems that hope does not precede them.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q25_A3-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, when a thing is moved towards an end, the movement of withdrawal precedes the movement of approach. But fear and
                     despair imply withdrawal from something; while daring and hope imply approach towards something. Therefore fear and despair
                     precede hope and daring.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q25_A3-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> The nearer a thing is to the first, the more it precedes others. But hope is nearer to love, which is the first of the passions.
                     Therefore hope is the first of the passions in the irascible faculty.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q25_A3-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> As stated above 
                     <a id="FS_Q25_A3-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q25_A1.html">(A[1])</a> all irascible passions imply movement towards something. Now this movement of the irascible faculty towards something may
                     be due to two causes: one is the mere aptitude or proportion to the end; and this pertains to love or hatred, those whose
                     object is good, or evil; and this belongs to sadness or joy. As a matter of fact, the presence of good produces no passion
                     in the irascible, as stated above (Q[23],
                     AA[3],4); but the presence of evil gives rise to the passion of anger.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q25_A3-p7"> Since then in order of generation or execution, proportion or aptitude to the end precedes the achievement of the end; it
                     follows that, of all the irascible passions, anger is the last in the order of generation. And among the other passions of
                     the irascible faculty, which imply a movement arising from love of good or hatred of evil, those whose object is good, viz.
                     hope and despair, must naturally precede those whose object is evil, viz. daring and fear: yet so that hope
                     precedes despair; since hope is a movement towards good as such, which is essentially attractive, so that hope tends to good
                     directly; whereas despair is a movement away from good, a movement which is consistent with good, not as such, but in respect
                     of something else, wherefore its tendency from good is accidental, as it were. In like manner fear, through being a movement
                     from evil, precedes daring. And that hope and despair naturally precede fear and daring is evident from this---that as the
                     desire of good is the reason for avoiding evil, so hope and despair are the reason for fear and daring: because daring arises
                     from the hope of victory, and fear arises from the despair of overcoming. Lastly, anger arises from daring: for no one is
                     angry while seeking vengeance, unless he dare to avenge himself, as Avicenna observes in the sixth book of his Physics. Accordingly,
                     it is evident that hope is the first of all the irascible passions.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q25_A3-p8"> And if we wish to know the order of all the passions in the way of generation, love and hatred are first; desire and aversion,
                     second; hope and despair, third; fear and daring, fourth; anger, fifth; sixth and last, joy and sadness, which follow from
                     all the passions, as stated in Ethic. ii, 5: yet so that love precedes hatred; desire precedes aversion; hope precedes despair;
                     fear precedes daring; and joy precedes sadness, as may be gathered from what has been stated above.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q25_A3-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> Because anger arises from the other passions, as an effect from the causes that precede it, it is from anger, as being more
                     manifest than the other passions, that the power takes its name.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q25_A3-p10">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> It is not the arduousness but the good that is the reason for approach or desire. Consequently hope, which regards good more
                     directly, takes precedence: although at times daring or even anger regards something more arduous.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q25_A3-p11">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> The movement of the appetite is essentially and directly towards the good as towards its proper object; its movement from
                     evil results from this. For the movement of the appetitive part is in proportion, not to natural movement, but to the intention
                     of nature, which intends the end before intending the removal of a contrary, which removal is desired only for the sake of
                     obtaining the end.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q25_A3-p12"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q25_A3-p13"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q25_A2.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q25_A4.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q25_A4" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q25_A3.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q26.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q25_A4-p0.1">Whether these are the four principal passions: joy, sadness, hope and fear?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q25_A4-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q25_A4-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that joy, sadness, hope and fear are not the four principal passions. For Augustine (De Civ. Dei xiv, 3,[7]
                     sqq.) omits hope and puts desire in its place.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q25_A4-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, there is a twofold order in the passions of the soul: the order of intention, and the order of execution or generation.
                     The principal passions should therefore be taken, either in the order of intention; and thus joy and sadness, which are the
                     final passions, will be the principal passions; or in the order of execution or generation, and thus love will be the principal
                     passion. Therefore joy and sadness, hope and fear should in no way be called the
                     four principal passions.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q25_A4-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, just as daring is caused by hope, so fear is caused by despair. Either, therefore, hope and despair should be reckoned
                     as principal passions, since they cause others: or hope and daring, from being akin to one another.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q25_A4-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> Boethius (De Consol. i) in enumerating the four principal passions, says:
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q25_A4-p6"> "Banish joys: banish fears:</p>
                  <p id="FS_Q25_A4-p7"> Away with hope: away with tears."</p>
                  <p id="FS_Q25_A4-p8">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> These four are commonly called the principal passions. Two of them, viz. joy and sadness, are said to be principal because
                     in them all the other passions have their completion and end; wherefore they arise from all the other passions, as is stated
                     in Ethic. ii, 5. Fear and hope are principal passions, not because they complete the others simply, but because they complete
                     them as regards the movement of the appetite towards something: for in respect of good,
                     movement begins in love, goes forward to desire, and ends in hope; while in respect of evil, it begins in hatred, goes on
                     to aversion, and ends in fear. Hence it is customary to distinguish these four passions in relation to the present and the
                     future: for movement regards the future, while rest is in something present: so that joy relates to present good, sadness
                     relates to present evil; hope regards future good, and fear, future evil.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q25_A4-p9"> As to the other passions that regard good or evil, present or future, they all culminate in these four. For this reason some
                     have said that these four are the principal passions, because they are general passions; and this is true, provided that by
                     hope and fear we understand the appetite's common tendency to desire or shun something.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q25_A4-p10">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> Augustine puts desire or covetousness in place of hope, in so far as they seem to regard the same object, viz. some future
                     good.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q25_A4-p11">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> These are called principal passions, in the order of intention and completion. And though fear and hope are not the last
                     passions simply, yet they are the last of those passions that tend towards something as future. Nor can the argument be pressed
                     any further except in the case of anger: yet neither can anger be reckoned a principal passion, because it is an effect of
                     daring, which cannot be a principal passion, as we shall state further on (Reply
                     OBJ 3).
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q25_A4-p12">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> Despair implies movement away from good; and this is, as it were, accidental: and daring implies movement towards evil; and
                     this too is accidental. Consequently these cannot be principal passions; because that which is accidental cannot be said to
                     be principal. And so neither can anger be called a principal passion, because it arises from daring.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q25_A4-p13"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q25_A4-p14"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q25_A3.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q26.html"></a>
               </div>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q24_A4.html"></a>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q25_A1.html"></a>
            </div>
            <div id="FS_Q26" class="div3">
               <a href="summa.FS_Q25_A4.html"></a>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q26_A1.html"></a>
               <h3 id="FS_Q26-p0.1">OF THE PASSIONS OF THE SOUL IN PARTICULAR: AND FIRST, OF LOVE (FOUR ARTICLES)</h3>
               <p id="FS_Q26-p1"></p>
               <p id="FS_Q26-p2"> We have now to consider the soul's passions in particular, and (1) the passions of the concupiscible faculty; (2) the passions
                  of the irascible faculty.
               </p>
               <p id="FS_Q26-p3"> The first of these considerations will be threefold: since we shall consider (1) Love and hatred; (2) Desire and aversion;
                  (3) Pleasure and sadness.
               </p>
               <p id="FS_Q26-p4"> Concerning love, three points must be considered: (1) Love itself; (2) The cause of love; (3) The effects of love. Under
                  the first head there are four points of inquiry:
               </p>
               <p id="FS_Q26-p5"> (1) Whether love is in the concupiscible power?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q26-p6"> (2) Whether love is a passion?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q26-p7"> (3) Whether love is the same as dilection?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q26-p8"> (4) Whether love is properly divided into love of friendship, and love of concupiscence?</p>
               <div id="FS_Q26_A1" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q26.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q26_A2.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q26_A1-p0.1">Whether love is in the concupiscible power?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q26_A1-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q26_A1-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that love is not in the concupiscible power. For it is written (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q26_A1-p2.1" href="./asv.html#Wis.8.2" target="asv">Wis. 8:2</a>): "Her," namely wisdom, "have I loved, and have sought her out from my youth." But the concupiscible power, being a part
                     of the sensitive appetite, cannot tend to wisdom, which is not apprehended by the senses. Therefore love is not in the concupiscible
                     power.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q26_A1-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, love seems to be identified with every passion: for Augustine says (De Civ. Dei xiv, 7): "Love, yearning for the
                     object beloved, is desire; having and enjoying it, is joy; fleeing what is contrary to it, is fear; and feeling what is contrary
                     to it, is sadness." But not every passion is in the concupiscible power; indeed, fear, which is mentioned in this passage,
                     is in the irascible power. Therefore we must not say absolutely that love is in the
                     concupiscible power.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q26_A1-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, Dionysius (Div. Nom. iv) mentions a "natural love." But natural love seems to pertain rather to the natural powers,
                     which belong to the vegetal soul. Therefore love is not simply in the concupiscible power.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q26_A1-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> The Philosopher says (Topic. ii, 7) that "love is in the concupiscible power."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q26_A1-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> Love is something pertaining to the appetite; since good is the object of both. Wherefore love differs according to the difference
                     of appetites. For there is an appetite which arises from an apprehension existing, not in the subject of the appetite, but
                     in some other: and this is called the "natural appetite." Because natural things seek what is suitable to them according to
                     their nature, by reason of an apprehension which is not in them, but in the Author
                     of their nature, as stated in the 
                     <a id="FS_Q26_A1-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FP_Q6_A1.html">FP, Q[6], A[1]</a>, ad 2; 
                     <a id="FS_Q26_A1-p6.2" shape="rect" href="summa.FP_Q103_A1.html">FP, Q[103], A[1]</a>, ad 1,3. And there is another appetite arising from an apprehension in the subject of the appetite, but from necessity and
                     not from free-will. Such is, in irrational animals, the "sensitive appetite," which, however, in man, has a certain share
                     of liberty, in so far as it obeys reason. Again, there is another appetite following freely from an apprehension in the subject
                     of
                     the appetite. And this is the rational or intellectual appetite, which is called the "will."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q26_A1-p7"> Now in each of these appetites, the name "love" is given to the principle movement towards the end loved. In the natural
                     appetite the principle of this movement is the appetitive subject's connaturalness with the thing to which it tends, and may
                     be called "natural love": thus the connaturalness of a heavy body for the centre, is by reason of its weight and may be called
                     "natural love." In like manner the aptitude of the sensitive appetite or of the will to some good, that is to
                     say, its very complacency in good is called "sensitive love," or "intellectual" or "rational love." So that sensitive love
                     is in the sensitive appetite, just as intellectual love is in the intellectual appetite. And it belongs to the concupiscible
                     power, because it regards good absolutely, and not under the aspect of difficulty, which is the object of the irascible faculty.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q26_A1-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> The words quoted refer to intellectual or rational love.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q26_A1-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> Love is spoken of as being fear, joy, desire and sadness, not essentially but causally.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q26_A1-p10">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> Natural love is not only in the powers of the vegetal soul, but in all the soul's powers, and also in all the parts of the
                     body, and universally in all things: because, as Dionysius says (Div. Nom. iv), "Beauty and goodness are beloved by all things";
                     since each single thing has a connaturalness with that which is naturally suitable to it.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q26_A1-p11"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q26_A1-p12"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q26.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q26_A2.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q26_A2" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q26_A1.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q26_A3.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q26_A2-p0.1">Whether love is a passion?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q26_A2-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q26_A2-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that love is not a passion. For no power is a passion. But every love is a power, as Dionysius says (Div. Nom.
                     iv). Therefore love is not a passion.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q26_A2-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, love is a kind of union or bond, as Augustine says (De Trin. viii, 10). But a union or bond is not a passion, but
                     rather a relation. Therefore love is not a passion.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q26_A2-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, Damascene says (De Fide Orth. ii, 22) that passion is a movement. But love does not imply the movement of the appetite;
                     for this is desire, of which movement love is the principle. Therefore love is not a passion.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q26_A2-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> The Philosopher says (Ethic. viii, 5) that "love is a passion."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q26_A2-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> Passion is the effect of the agent on the patient. Now a natural agent produces a twofold effect on the patient: for in the
                     first place it gives it the form; and secondly it gives it the movement that results from the form. Thus the generator gives
                     the generated body both weight and the movement resulting from weight: so that weight, from being the principle of movement
                     to the place, which is connatural to that body by reason of its weight, can, in a way, be
                     called "natural love." In the same way the appetible object gives the appetite, first, a certain adaptation to itself, which
                     consists in complacency in that object; and from this follows movement towards the appetible object. For "the appetitive movement
                     is circular," as stated in De Anima iii, 10; because the appetible object moves the appetite, introducing itself, as it were,
                     into its intention; while the appetite moves towards the realization of the appetible object, so that the movement
                     ends where it began. Accordingly, the first change wrought in the appetite by the appetible object is called "love," and is
                     nothing else than complacency in that object; and from this complacency results a movement towards that same object, and this
                     movement is "desire"; and lastly, there is rest which is "joy." Since, therefore, love consists in a change wrought in the
                     appetite by the appetible object, it is evident that love is a passion: properly so called, according as it is in the
                     concupiscible faculty; in a wider and extended sense, according as it is in the will.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q26_A2-p7">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> Since power denotes a principle of movement or action, Dionysius calls love a power, in so far as it is a principle of movement
                     in the appetite.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q26_A2-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> Union belongs to love in so far as by reason of the complacency of the appetite, the lover stands in relation to that which
                     he loves, as though it were himself or part of himself. Hence it is clear that love is not the very relation of union, but
                     that union is a result of love. Hence, too, Dionysius says that "love is a unitive force" (Div. Nom. iv), and the Philosopher
                     says (Polit. ii, 1) that union is the work of love.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q26_A2-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> Although love does not denote the movement of the appetite in tending towards the appetible object, yet it denotes that movement
                     whereby the appetite is changed by the appetible object, so as to have complacency therein.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q26_A2-p10"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q26_A2-p11"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q26_A1.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q26_A3.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q26_A3" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q26_A2.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q26_A4.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q26_A3-p0.1">Whether love is the same as dilection?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q26_A3-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q26_A3-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that love is the same as dilection. For Dionysius says (Div. Nom. iv) that love is to dilection, "as four is
                     to twice two, and as a rectilinear figure is to one composed of straight lines." But these have the same meaning. Therefore
                     love and dilection denote the same thing.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q26_A3-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, the movements of the appetite differ by reason of their objects. But the objects of dilection and love are the same.
                     Therefore these are the same.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q26_A3-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, if dilection and love differ, it seems that it is chiefly in the fact that "dilection refers to good things, love
                     to evil things, as some have maintained," according to Augustine (De Civ. Dei xiv, 7). But they do not differ thus; because
                     as Augustine says (De Civ. Dei xiv, 7) the holy Scripture uses both words in reference to either good or bad things. Therefore
                     love and dilection do not differ: thus indeed Augustine concludes (De Civ. Dei xiv, 7)
                     that "it is not one thing to speak of love, and another to speak of dilection."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q26_A3-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> Dionysius says (Div. Nom. iv) that "some holy men have held that love means something more Godlike than dilection does."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q26_A3-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> We find four words referring in a way, to the same thing: viz. love, dilection, charity and friendship. They differ, however,
                     in this, that "friendship," according to the Philosopher (Ethic. viii, 5), "is like a habit," whereas "love" and "dilection"
                     are expressed by way of act or passion; and "charity" can be taken either way.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q26_A3-p7"> Moreover these three express act in different ways. For love has a wider signification than the others, since every dilection
                     or charity is love, but not vice versa. Because dilection implies, in addition to love, a choice [electionem] made beforehand,
                     as the very word denotes: and therefore dilection is not in the concupiscible power, but only in the will, and only in the
                     rational nature. Charity denotes, in addition to love, a certain perfection of love, in so far as that
                     which is loved is held to be of great price, as the word itself implies [*Referring to the Latin "carus" (dear)].
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q26_A3-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> Dionysius is speaking of love and dilection, in so far as they are in the intellectual appetite; for thus love is the same
                     as dilection.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q26_A3-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> The object of love is more general than the object of dilection: because love extends to more than dilection does, as stated
                     above.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q26_A3-p10">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> Love and dilection differ, not in respect of good and evil, but as stated. Yet in the intellectual faculty love is the same
                     as dilection. And it is in this sense that Augustine speaks of love in the passage quoted: hence a little further on he adds
                     that "a right will is well-directed love, and a wrong will is ill-directed love." However, the fact that love, which is concupiscible
                     passion, inclines many to evil, is the reason why some assigned the
                     difference spoken of.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q26_A3-p11">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 4:</b> The reason why some held that, even when applied to the will itself, the word "love" signifies something more Godlike than
                     "dilection," was because love denotes a passion, especially in so far as it is in the sensitive appetite; whereas dilection
                     presupposes the judgment of reason. But it is possible for man to tend to God by love, being as it were passively drawn by
                     Him, more than he can possibly be drawn thereto by his reason, which pertains to the
                     nature of dilection, as stated above. And consequently love is more Godlike than dilection.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q26_A3-p12"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q26_A3-p13"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q26_A2.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q26_A4.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q26_A4" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q26_A3.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q27.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q26_A4-p0.1">Whether love is properly divided into love of friendship and love of concupiscence?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q26_A4-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q26_A4-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that love is not properly divided into love of friendship and love of concupiscence. For "love is a passion,
                     while friendship is a habit," according to the Philosopher (Ethic. viii, 5). But habit cannot be the member of a division
                     of passions. Therefore love is not properly divided into love of concupiscence and love of friendship.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q26_A4-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, a thing cannot be divided by another member of the same division; for man is not a member of the same division as
                     "animal." But concupiscence is a member of the same division as love, as a passion distinct from love. Therefore concupiscence
                     is not a division of love.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q26_A4-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, according to the Philosopher (Ethic. viii, 3) friendship is threefold, that which is founded on "usefulness," that
                     which is founded on "pleasure," and that which is founded on "goodness." But useful and pleasant friendship are not without
                     concupiscence. Therefore concupiscence should not be contrasted with friendship.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q26_A4-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> We are said to love certain things, because we desire them: thus "a man is said to love wine, on account of its sweetness
                     which he desires"; as stated in Topic. ii, 3. But we have no friendship for wine and suchlike things, as stated in Ethic.
                     viii, 2. Therefore love of concupiscence is distinct from love of friendship.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q26_A4-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> As the Philosopher says (Rhet. ii, 4), "to love is to wish good to someone." Hence the movement of love has a twofold tendency:
                     towards the good which a man wishes to someone (to himself or to another) and towards that to which he wishes some good. Accordingly,
                     man has love of concupiscence towards the good that he wishes to another, and love of friendship towards him to whom he wishes
                     good.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q26_A4-p7"> Now the members of this division are related as primary and secondary: since that which is loved with the love of friendship
                     is loved simply and for itself; whereas that which is loved with the love of concupiscence, is loved, not simply and for itself,
                     but for something else. For just as that which has existence, is a being simply, while that which exists in another is a relative
                     being; so, because good is convertible with being, the good, which itself has goodness, is good
                     simply; but that which is another's good, is a relative good. Consequently the love with which a thing is loved, that it may
                     have some good, is love simply; while the love, with which a thing is loved, that it may be another's good, is relative love.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q26_A4-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> Love is not divided into friendship and concupiscence, but into love of friendship, and love of concupiscence. For a friend
                     is, properly speaking, one to whom we wish good: while we are said to desire, what we wish for ourselves.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q26_A4-p9"> Hence the Reply to the Second Objection.</p>
                  <p id="FS_Q26_A4-p10">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> When friendship is based on usefulness or pleasure, a man does indeed wish his friend some good: and in this respect the
                     character of friendship is preserved. But since he refers this good further to his own pleasure or use, the result is that
                     friendship of the useful or pleasant, in so far as it is connected with love of concupiscence, loses the character to true
                     friendship.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q26_A4-p11"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q26_A4-p12"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q26_A3.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q27.html"></a>
               </div>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q25_A4.html"></a>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q26_A1.html"></a>
            </div>
            <div id="FS_Q27" class="div3">
               <a href="summa.FS_Q26_A4.html"></a>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q27_A1.html"></a>
               <h3 id="FS_Q27-p0.1">OF THE CAUSE OF LOVE (FOUR ARTICLES)</h3>
               <p id="FS_Q27-p1"></p>
               <p id="FS_Q27-p2"> We must now consider the cause of love: and under this head there are four points of inquiry:</p>
               <p id="FS_Q27-p3"> (1) Whether good is the only cause of love?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q27-p4"> (2) Whether knowledge is a cause of love?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q27-p5"> (3) Whether likeness is a cause of love?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q27-p6"> (4) Whether any other passion of the soul is a cause of love?</p>
               <div id="FS_Q27_A1" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q27.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q27_A2.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q27_A1-p0.1">Whether good is the only cause of love?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q27_A1-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q27_A1-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that good is not the only cause of love. For good does not cause love, except because it is loved. But it happens
                     that evil also is loved, according to
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q27_A1-p2.1" href="./asv.html#Ps.10.6" target="asv"> Ps. 10:6</a>: "He that loveth iniquity, hateth his own soul": else, every love would be good. Therefore good is not the only cause of
                     love.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q27_A1-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, the Philosopher says (Rhet. ii, 4) that "we love those who acknowledge their evils." Therefore it seems that evil
                     is the cause of love.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q27_A1-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, Dionysius says (Div. Nom. iv) that not "the good" only but also "the beautiful is beloved by all."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q27_A1-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> Augustine says (De Trin. viii, 3): "Assuredly the good alone is beloved." Therefore good alone is the cause of love.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q27_A1-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> As stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q27_A1-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q26_A1.html">Q[26], A[1]</a>), Love belongs to the appetitive power which is a passive faculty. Wherefore its object stands in relation to it as the cause
                     of its movement or act. Therefore the cause of love must needs be love's object. Now the proper object of love is the good;
                     because, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q27_A1-p6.2" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q26_A1.html">Q[26], AA[1]</a>,2), love implies a certain connaturalness or complacency of the lover for the thing beloved,
                     and to everything, that thing is a good, which is akin and proportionate to it. It follows, therefore, that good is the proper
                     cause of love.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q27_A1-p7">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> Evil is never loved except under the aspect of good, that is to say, in so far as it is good in some respect, and is considered
                     as being good simply. And thus a certain love is evil, in so far as it tends to that which is not simply a true good. It is
                     in this way that man "loves iniquity," inasmuch as, by means of iniquity, some good is gained; pleasure, for instance, or
                     money, or such like.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q27_A1-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> Those who acknowledge their evils, are beloved, not for their evils, but because they acknowledge them, for it is a good
                     thing to acknowledge one's faults, in so far as it excludes insincerity or hypocrisy.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q27_A1-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> The beautiful is the same as the good, and they differ in aspect only. For since good is what all seek, the notion of good
                     is that which calms the desire; while the notion of the beautiful is that which calms the desire, by being seen or known.
                     Consequently those senses chiefly regard the beautiful, which are the most cognitive, viz. sight and hearing, as ministering
                     to reason; for we speak of beautiful sights and beautiful sounds. But in reference to
                     the other objects of the other senses, we do not use the expression "beautiful," for we do not speak of beautiful tastes,
                     and beautiful odors. Thus it is evident that beauty adds to goodness a relation to the cognitive faculty: so that "good" means
                     that which simply pleases the appetite; while the "beautiful" is something pleasant to apprehend.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q27_A1-p10"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q27_A1-p11"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q27.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q27_A2.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q27_A2" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q27_A1.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q27_A3.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q27_A2-p0.1">Whether knowledge is a cause of love?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q27_A2-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q27_A2-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that knowledge is not a cause of love. For it is due to love that a thing is sought. But some things are sought
                     without being known, for instance, the sciences; for since "to have them is the same as to know them," as Augustine says (QQ[83],
                     qu. 35), if we knew them we should have them, and should not seek them. Therefore knowledge is not the cause of love.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q27_A2-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, to love what we know not seems like loving something more than we know it. But some things are loved more than they
                     are known: thus in this life God can be loved in Himself, but cannot be known in Himself. Therefore knowledge is not the cause
                     of love.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q27_A2-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, if knowledge were the cause of love, there would be no love, where there is no knowledge. But in all things there
                     is love, as Dionysius says (Div. Nom. iv); whereas there is not knowledge in all things. Therefore knowledge is not the cause
                     of love.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q27_A2-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> Augustine proves (De Trin. x, 1,2) that "none can love what he does not know."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q27_A2-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> As stated above 
                     <a id="FS_Q27_A2-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q27_A1.html">(A[1])</a>, good is the cause of love, as being its object. But good is not the object of the appetite, except as apprehended. And therefore
                     love demands some apprehension of the good that is loved. For this reason the Philosopher (Ethic. ix, 5,12) says that bodily
                     sight is the beginning of sensitive love: and in like manner the contemplation of spiritual beauty or goodness is the beginning
                     of spiritual love. Accordingly
                     knowledge is the cause of love for the same reason as good is, which can be loved only if known.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q27_A2-p7">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> He who seeks science, is not entirely without knowledge thereof: but knows something about it already in some respect, either
                     in a general way, or in some one of its effects, or from having heard it commended, as Augustine says (De Trin. x, 1,2). But
                     to have it is not to know it thus, but to know it perfectly.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q27_A2-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> Something is required for the perfection of knowledge, that is not requisite for the perfection of love. For knowledge belongs
                     to the reason, whose function it is to distinguish things which in reality are united, and to unite together, after a fashion,
                     things that are distinct, by comparing one with another. Consequently the perfection of knowledge requires that man should
                     know distinctly all that is in a thing, such as its parts, powers, and
                     properties. On the other hand, love is in the appetitive power, which regards a thing as it is in itself: wherefore it suffices,
                     for the perfection of love, that a thing be loved according as it is known in itself. Hence it is, therefore, that a thing
                     is loved more than it is known; since it can be loved perfectly, even without being perfectly known. This is most evident
                     in regard to the sciences, which some love through having a certain general knowledge of them: for instance, they know that
                     rhetoric is a science that enables man to persuade others; and this is what they love in rhetoric. The same applies to the
                     love of God.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q27_A2-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> Even natural love, which is in all things, is caused by a kind of knowledge, not indeed existing in natural things themselves,
                     but in Him Who created their nature, as stated above (Q[26], A[1]; cf. 
                     <a id="FS_Q27_A2-p9.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FP_Q6_A1.html">FP, Q[6], A[1]</a>, ad 2).
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q27_A2-p10"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q27_A2-p11"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q27_A1.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q27_A3.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q27_A3" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q27_A2.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q27_A4.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q27_A3-p0.1">Whether likeness is a cause of love?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q27_A3-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q27_A3-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that likeness is not a cause of love. For the same thing is not the cause of contraries. But likeness is the
                     cause of hatred; for it is written (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q27_A3-p2.1" href="./asv.html#Prov.13.10" target="asv">Prov. 13:10</a>) that "among the proud there are always contentions"; and the Philosopher says (Ethic. viii, 1) that "potters quarrel with
                     one another." Therefore likeness is not a cause of love.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q27_A3-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, Augustine says (Confess. iv, 14) that "a man loves in another that which he would not be himself: thus he loves
                     an actor, but would not himself be an actor." But it would not be so, if likeness were the proper cause of love; for in that
                     case a man would love in another, that which he possesses himself, or would like to possess. Therefore likeness is not a cause
                     of love.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q27_A3-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, everyone loves that which he needs, even if he have it not: thus a sick man loves health, and a poor man loves riches.
                     But in so far as he needs them and lacks them, he is unlike them. Therefore not only likeness but also unlikeness is a cause
                     of love.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q27_A3-p5">
                     <b>Objection 4:</b> Further, the Philosopher says (Rhet. ii, 4) that "we love those who bestow money and health on us; and also those who retain
                     their friendship for the dead." But all are not such. Therefore likeness is not a cause of love.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q27_A3-p6">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> It is written (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q27_A3-p6.1" href="./asv.html#Sir.13.19" target="asv">Ecclus. 13:19</a>): "Every beast loveth its like."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q27_A3-p7">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> Likeness, properly speaking, is a cause of love. But it must be observed that likeness between things is twofold. One kind
                     of likeness arises from each thing having the same quality actually: for example, two things possessing the quality of whiteness
                     are said to be alike. Another kind of likeness arises from one thing having potentially and by way of inclination, a quality
                     which the other has actually: thus we may say that a heavy body existing outside its
                     proper place is like another heavy body that exists in its proper place: or again, according as potentiality bears a resemblance
                     to its act; since act is contained, in a manner, in the potentiality itself.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q27_A3-p8"> Accordingly the first kind of likeness causes love of friendship or well-being. For the very fact that two men are alike,
                     having, as it were, one form, makes them to be, in a manner, one in that form: thus two men are one thing in the species of
                     humanity, and two white men are one thing in whiteness. Hence the affections of one tend to the other, as being one with him;
                     and he wishes good to him as to himself. But the second kind of likeness causes love of concupiscence, or
                     friendship founded on usefulness or pleasure: because whatever is in potentiality, as such, has the desire for its act; and
                     it takes pleasure in its realization, if it be a sentient and cognitive being.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q27_A3-p9"> Now it has been stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q27_A3-p9.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q26_A4.html">Q[26], A[4]</a>), that in the love of concupiscence, the lover, properly speaking, loves himself, in willing the good that he desires. But
                     a man loves himself more than another: because he is one with himself substantially, whereas with another he is one only in
                     the likeness of some form. Consequently, if this other's likeness to him arising from the participation of a form, hinders
                     him from gaining the good that he loves, he
                     becomes hateful to him, not for being like him, but for hindering him from gaining his own good. This is why "potters quarrel
                     among themselves," because they hinder one another's gain: and why "there are contentions among the proud," because they hinder
                     one another in attaining the position they covet.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q27_A3-p10"> Hence the Reply to the First Objection is evident.</p>
                  <p id="FS_Q27_A3-p11">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> Even when a man loves in another what he loves not in himself, there is a certain likeness of proportion: because as the
                     latter is to that which is loved in him, so is the former to that which he loves in himself: for instance, if a good singer
                     love a good writer, we can see a likeness of proportion, inasmuch as each one has that which is becoming to him in respect
                     of his art.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q27_A3-p12">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> He that loves what he needs, bears a likeness to what he loves, as potentiality bears a likeness to its act, as stated above.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q27_A3-p13">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 4:</b> According to the same likeness of potentiality to its act, the illiberal man loves the man who is liberal, in so far as he
                     expects from him something which he desires. The same applies to the man who is constant in his friendship as compared to
                     one who is inconstant. For in either case friendship seems to be based on usefulness. We might also say that although not
                     all men have these virtues in the complete habit, yet they have them according to
                     certain seminal principles in the reason, in force of which principles the man who is not virtuous loves the virtuous man,
                     as being in conformity with his own natural reason.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q27_A3-p14"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q27_A3-p15"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q27_A2.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q27_A4.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q27_A4" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q27_A3.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q28.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q27_A4-p0.1">Whether any other passion of the soul is a cause of love?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q27_A4-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q27_A4-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that some other passion can be the cause of love. For the Philosopher (Ethic. viii, 3) says that some are loved
                     for the sake of the pleasure they give. But pleasure is a passion. Therefore another passion is a cause of love.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q27_A4-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, desire is a passion. But we love some because we desire to receive something from them: as happens in every friendship
                     based on usefulness. Therefore another passion is a cause of love.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q27_A4-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, Augustine says (De Trin. x, 1): "When we have no hope of getting a thing, we love it but half-heartedly or not at
                     all, even if we see how beautiful it is." Therefore hope too is a cause of love.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q27_A4-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> All the other emotions of the soul are caused by love, as Augustine says (De Civ. Dei xiv, 7,9).
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q27_A4-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> There is no other passion of the soul that does not presuppose love of some kind. The reason is that every other passion
                     of the soul implies either movement towards something, or rest in something. Now every movement towards something, or rest
                     in something, arises from some kinship or aptness to that thing; and in this does love consist. Therefore it is not possible
                     for any other passion of the soul to be universally the cause of every love. But it may
                     happen that some other passion is the cause of some particular love: just as one good is the cause of another.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q27_A4-p7">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> When a man loves a thing for the pleasure it affords, his love is indeed caused by pleasure; but that very pleasure is caused,
                     in its turn, by another preceding love; for none takes pleasure save in that which is loved in some way.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q27_A4-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> Desire for a thing always presupposes love for that thing. But desire of one thing can be the cause of another thing's being
                     loved; thus he that desires money, for this reason loves him from whom he receives it.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q27_A4-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> Hope causes or increases love; both by reason of pleasure, because it causes pleasure; and by reason of desire, because hope
                     strengthens desire, since we do not desire so intensely that which we have no hope of receiving. Nevertheless hope itself
                     is of a good that is loved.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q27_A4-p10"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q27_A4-p11"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q27_A3.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q28.html"></a>
               </div>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q26_A4.html"></a>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q27_A1.html"></a>
            </div>
            <div id="FS_Q28" class="div3">
               <a href="summa.FS_Q27_A4.html"></a>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q28_A1.html"></a>
               <h3 id="FS_Q28-p0.1">OF THE EFFECTS OF LOVE (SIX ARTICLES)</h3>
               <p id="FS_Q28-p1"></p>
               <p id="FS_Q28-p2"> We now have to consider the effects of love: under which head there are six points of inquiry:</p>
               <p id="FS_Q28-p3"> (1) Whether union is an effect of love?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q28-p4"> (2) Whether mutual indwelling is an effect of love?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q28-p5"> (3) Whether ecstasy is an effect of love?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q28-p6"> (4) Whether zeal is an effect of love?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q28-p7"> (5) Whether love is a passion that is hurtful to the lover?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q28-p8"> (6) Whether love is cause of all that the lover does?</p>
               <div id="FS_Q28_A1" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q28.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q28_A2.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q28_A1-p0.1">Whether union is an effect of love?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A1-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A1-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that union is not an effect of love. For absence is incompatible with union. But love is compatible with absence;
                     for the Apostle says (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q28_A1-p2.1" href="./asv.html#Gal.4.18" target="asv">Gal. 4:18</a>): "Be zealous for that which is good in a good thing always" (speaking of himself, according to a gloss), "and not only when
                     I am present with you." Therefore union is not an effect of love.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A1-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, every union is either according to essence, thus form is united to matter, accident to subject, and a part to the
                     whole, or to another part in order to make up the whole: or according to likeness, in genus, species, or accident. But love
                     does not cause union of essence; else love could not be between things essentially distinct. On the other hand, love does
                     not cause union of likeness, but rather is caused by it, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q28_A1-p3.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q27_A3.html">Q[27], A[3]</a>). Therefore union is not an effect of love.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A1-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, the sense in act is the sensible in act, and the intellect in act is the thing actually understood. But the lover
                     in act is not the beloved in act. Therefore union is the effect of knowledge rather than of love.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A1-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> Dionysius says (Div. Nom. iv) that every love is a "unitive love."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A1-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> The union of lover and beloved is twofold. The first is real union; for instance, when the beloved is present with the lover.
                     The second is union of affection: and this union must be considered in relation to the preceding apprehension; since movement
                     of the appetite follows apprehension. Now love being twofold, viz. love of concupiscence and love of friendship; each of these
                     arises from a kind of apprehension of the oneness of the thing loved with the
                     lover. For when we love a thing, by desiring it, we apprehend it as belonging to our well-being. In like manner when a man
                     loves another with the love of friendship, he wills good to him, just as he wills good to himself: wherefore he apprehends
                     him as his other self, in so far, to wit, as he wills good to him as to himself. Hence a friend is called a man's "other self"
                     (Ethic. ix, 4), and Augustine says (Confess. iv, 6), "Well did one say to his friend: Thou half of my soul."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A1-p7"> The first of these unions is caused "effectively" by love; because love moves man to desire and seek the presence of the
                     beloved, as of something suitable and belonging to him. The second union is caused "formally" by love; because love itself
                     is this union or bond. In this sense Augustine says (De Trin. viii, 10) that "love is a vital principle uniting, or seeking
                     to unite two together, the lover, to wit, and the beloved." For in describing it as "uniting" he refers to the
                     union of affection, without which there is no love: and in saying that "it seeks to unite," he refers to real union.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A1-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> This argument is true of real union. That is necessary to pleasure as being its cause; desire implies the real absence of
                     the beloved: but love remains whether the beloved be absent or present.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A1-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> Union has a threefold relation to love. There is union which causes love; and this is substantial union, as regards the love
                     with which one loves oneself; while as regards the love wherewith one loves other things, it is the union of likeness, as
                     stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q28_A1-p9.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q27_A3.html">Q[27], A[3]</a>). There is also a union which is essentially love itself. This union is according to a bond of affection, and is likened
                     to substantial union, inasmuch as
                     the lover stands to the object of his love, as to himself, if it be love of friendship; as to something belonging to himself,
                     if it be love of concupiscence. Again there is a union, which is the effect of love. This is real union, which the lover seeks
                     with the object of his love. Moreover this union is in keeping with the demands of love: for as the Philosopher relates (Polit.
                     ii, 1), "Aristophanes stated that lovers would wish to be united both into one," but since "this would result in
                     either one or both being destroyed," they seek a suitable and becoming union---to live together, speak together, and be united
                     together in other like things.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A1-p10">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> Knowledge is perfected by the thing known being united, through its likeness, to the knower. But the effect of love is that
                     the thing itself which is loved, is, in a way, united to the lover, as stated above. Consequently the union caused by love
                     is closer than that which is caused by knowledge.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A1-p11"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A1-p12"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q28.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q28_A2.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q28_A2" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q28_A1.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q28_A3.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q28_A2-p0.1">Whether mutual indwelling is an effect of love?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A2-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A2-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that love does not cause mutual indwelling, so that the lover be in the beloved and vice versa. For that which
                     is in another is contained in it. But the same cannot be container and contents. Therefore love cannot cause mutual indwelling,
                     so that the lover be in the beloved and vice versa.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A2-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, nothing can penetrate within a whole, except by means of a division of the whole. But it is the function of the
                     reason, not of the appetite where love resides, to divide things that are really united. Therefore mutual indwelling is not
                     an effect of love.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A2-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, if love involves the lover being in the beloved and vice versa, it follows that the beloved is united to the lover,
                     in the same way as the lover is united to the beloved. But the union itself is love, as stated above 
                     <a id="FS_Q28_A2-p4.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q28_A1.html">(A[1])</a>. Therefore it follows that the lover is always loved by the object of his love; which is evidently false. Therefore mutual
                     indwelling is not an effect of love.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A2-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> It is written (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q28_A2-p5.1" href="./asv.html#iJohn.4.16" target="asv">1 Jn. 4:16</a>): "He that abideth in charity abideth in God, and God in him." Now charity is the love of God. Therefore, for the same reason,
                     every love makes the beloved to be in the lover, and vice versa.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A2-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> This effect of mutual indwelling may be understood as referring both to the apprehensive and to the appetitive power. Because,
                     as to the apprehensive power, the beloved is said to be in the lover, inasmuch as the beloved abides in the apprehension of
                     the lover, according to
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q28_A2-p6.1" href="./asv.html#Phil.1.7" target="asv"> Phil. 1:7, </a> "For that I have you in my heart": while the lover is said to be in the beloved, according to apprehension, inasmuch as the
                     lover is not satisfied with a
                     superficial apprehension of the beloved, but strives to gain an intimate knowledge of everything pertaining to the beloved,
                     so as to penetrate into his very soul. Thus it is written concerning the Holy Ghost, Who is God's Love, that He "searcheth
                     all things, yea the deep things of God" (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q28_A2-p6.2" href="./asv.html#iCor.2.10" target="asv">1 Cor. 2:10</a>).
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A2-p7"> As the appetitive power, the object loved is said to be in the lover, inasmuch as it is in his affections, by a kind of complacency:
                     causing him either to take pleasure in it, or in its good, when present; or, in the absence of the object loved, by his longing,
                     to tend towards it with the love of concupiscence, or towards the good that he wills to the beloved, with the love of friendship:
                     not indeed from any extrinsic cause (as when we desire one thing on account of another, or
                     wish good to another on account of something else), but because the complacency in the beloved is rooted in the lover's heart.
                     For this reason we speak of love as being "intimate"; and "of the bowels of charity." On the other hand, the lover is in the
                     beloved, by the love of concupiscence and by the love of friendship, but not in the same way. For the love of concupiscence
                     is not satisfied with any external or superficial possession or enjoyment of the beloved; but seeks to possess the beloved
                     perfectly, by penetrating into his heart, as it were. Whereas, in the love of friendship, the lover is in the beloved, inasmuch
                     as he reckons what is good or evil to his friend, as being so to himself; and his friend's will as his own, so that it seems
                     as though he felt the good or suffered the evil in the person of his friend. Hence it is proper to friends "to desire the
                     same things, and to grieve and rejoice at the same," as the Philosopher says (Ethic. ix, 3 and Rhet. ii, 4). Consequently
                     in
                     so far as he reckons what affects his friend as affecting himself, the lover seems to be in the beloved, as though he were
                     become one with him: but in so far as, on the other hand, he wills and acts for his friend's sake as for his own sake, looking
                     on his friend as identified with himself, thus the beloved is in the lover.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A2-p8"> In yet a third way, mutual indwelling in the love of friendship can be understood in regard to reciprocal love: inasmuch
                     as friends return love for love, and both desire and do good things for one another.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A2-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> The beloved is contained in the lover, by being impressed on his heart and thus becoming the object of his complacency. On
                     the other hand, the lover is contained in the beloved, inasmuch as the lover penetrates, so to speak, into the beloved. For
                     nothing hinders a thing from being both container and contents in different ways: just as a genus is contained in its species,
                     and vice versa.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A2-p10">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> The apprehension of the reason precedes the movement of love. Consequently, just as the reason divides, so does the movement
                     of love penetrate into the beloved, as was explained above.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A2-p11">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> This argument is true of the third kind of mutual indwelling, which is not to be found in every kind of love.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A2-p12"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A2-p13"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q28_A1.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q28_A3.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q28_A3" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q28_A2.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q28_A4.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q28_A3-p0.1">Whether ecstasy is an effect of love?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A3-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A3-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that ecstasy is not an effect of love. For ecstasy seems to imply loss of reason. But love does not always
                     result in loss of reason: for lovers are masters of themselves at times. Therefore love does not cause ecstasy.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A3-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, the lover desires the beloved to be united to him. Therefore he draws the beloved to himself, rather than betakes
                     himself into the beloved, going forth out from himself as it were.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A3-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, love unites the beloved to the lover, as stated above 
                     <a id="FS_Q28_A3-p4.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q28_A1.html">(A[1])</a>. If, therefore, the lover goes out from himself, in order to betake himself into the beloved, it follows that the lover always
                     loves the beloved more than himself: which is evidently false. Therefore ecstasy is not an effect of love.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A3-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> Dionysius says (Div. Nom. iv) that "the Divine love produces ecstasy," and that "God Himself suffered ecstasy through love."
                     Since therefore according to the same author (Div. Nom. iv), every love is a participated likeness of the Divine Love, it
                     seems that every love causes ecstasy.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A3-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> To suffer ecstasy means to be placed outside oneself. This happens as to the apprehensive power and as to the appetitive
                     power. As to the apprehensive power, a man is said to be placed outside himself, when he is placed outside the knowledge proper
                     to him. This may be due to his being raised to a higher knowledge; thus, a man is said to suffer ecstasy, inasmuch as he is
                     placed outside the connatural apprehension of his sense and reason, when he is raised up
                     so as to comprehend things that surpass sense and reason: or it may be due to his being cast down into a state of debasement;
                     thus a man may be said to suffer ecstasy, when he is overcome by violent passion or madness. As to the appetitive power, a
                     man is said to suffer ecstasy, when that power is borne towards something else, so that it goes forth out from itself, as
                     it were.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A3-p7"> The first of these ecstasies is caused by love dispositively in so far, namely, as love makes the lover dwell on the beloved,
                     as stated above 
                     <a id="FS_Q28_A3-p7.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q28_A2.html">(A[2])</a>, and to dwell intently on one thing draws the mind from other things. The second ecstasy is caused by love directly; by love
                     of friendship, simply; by love of concupiscence not simply but in a restricted sense. Because in love of concupiscence, the
                     lover is carried out of himself, in a certain sense; in so
                     far, namely, as not being satisfied with enjoying the good that he has, he seeks to enjoy something outside himself. But since
                     he seeks to have this extrinsic good for himself, he does not go out from himself simply, and this movement remains finally
                     within him. On the other hand, in the love of friendship, a man's affection goes out from itself simply; because he wishes
                     and does good to his friend, by caring and providing for him, for his sake.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A3-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> This argument is true of the first kind of ecstasy.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A3-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> This argument applies to love of concupiscence, which, as stated above, does not cause ecstasy simply.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A3-p10">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> He who loves, goes out from himself, in so far as he wills the good of his friend and works for it. Yet he does not will
                     the good of his friend more than his own good: and so it does not follow that he loves another more than himself.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A3-p11"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A3-p12"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q28_A2.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q28_A4.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q28_A4" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q28_A3.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q28_A5.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q28_A4-p0.1">Whether zeal is an effect of love?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A4-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A4-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that zeal is not an effect of love. For zeal is a beginning of contention; wherefore it is written (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q28_A4-p2.1" href="./asv.html#iCor.3.3" target="asv">1 Cor. 3:3</a>): "Whereas there is among you zeal [Douay: 'envying'] and contention," etc. But contention is incompatible with love. Therefore
                     zeal is not an effect of love.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A4-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, the object of love is the good, which communicates itself to others. But zeal is opposed to communication; since
                     it seems an effect of zeal, that a man refuses to share the object of his love with another: thus husbands are said to be
                     jealous of [zelare] their wives, because they will not share them with others. Therefore zeal is not an effect of love.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A4-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, there is no zeal without hatred, as neither is there without love: for it is written (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q28_A4-p4.1" href="./asv.html#Ps.72.3" target="asv">Ps. 72:3</a>): "I had a zeal on occasion of the wicked." Therefore it should not be set down as an effect of love any more than of hatred.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A4-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> Dionysius says (Div. Nom. iv): "God is said to be a zealot, on account of his great love for all things."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A4-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> Zeal, whatever way we take it, arises from the intensity of love. For it is evident that the more intensely a power tends
                     to anything, the more vigorously it withstands opposition or resistance. Since therefore love is "a movement towards the object
                     loved," as Augustine says (QQ. 83, qu. 35), an intense love seeks to remove everything that opposes it.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A4-p7"> But this happens in different ways according to love of concupiscence, and love of friendship. For in love of concupiscence
                     he who desires something intensely, is moved against all that hinders his gaining or quietly enjoying the object of his love.
                     It is thus that husbands are said to be jealous of their wives, lest association with others prove a hindrance to their exclusive
                     individual rights. In like manner those who seek to excel, are moved against those who seem to excel,
                     as though these were a hindrance to their excelling. And this is the zeal of envy, of which it is written (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q28_A4-p7.1" href="./asv.html#Ps.36.1" target="asv">Ps. 36:1</a>): "Be not emulous of evil doers, nor envy [zelaveris] them that work iniquity."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A4-p8"> On the other hand, love of friendship seeks the friend's good: wherefore, when it is intense, it causes a man to be moved
                     against everything that opposes the friend's good. In this respect, a man is said to be zealous on behalf of his friend, when
                     he makes a point of repelling whatever may be said or done against the friend's good. In this way, too, a man is said to be
                     zealous on God's behalf, when he endeavors, to the best of his means, to repel whatever is contrary to the
                     honor or will of God; according to 
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q28_A4-p8.1" href="./asv.html#." target="asv">3 Kings 19:14</a>: "With zeal I have been zealous for the Lord of hosts." Again on the words of
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q28_A4-p8.2" href="./asv.html#John.2.17" target="asv"> Jn. 2:17</a>: "The zeal of Thy house hath eaten me up," a gloss says that "a man is eaten up with a good zeal, who strives to remedy whatever
                     evil he perceives; and if he cannot, bears with it and laments it."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A4-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> The Apostle is speaking in this passage of the zeal of envy; which is indeed the cause of contention, not against the object
                     of love, but for it, and against that which is opposed to it.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A4-p10">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> Good is loved inasmuch as it can be communicated to the lover. Consequently whatever hinders the perfection of this communication,
                     becomes hateful. Thus zeal arises from love of good. But through defect of goodness, it happens that certain small goods cannot,
                     in their entirety, be possessed by many at the same time: and from the love of such things arises the zeal of envy. But it
                     does not arise, properly speaking, in the case of those things which, in
                     their entirety, can be possessed by many: for no one envies another the knowledge of truth, which can be known entirely by
                     many; except perhaps one may envy another his superiority in the knowledge of it.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A4-p11">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> The very fact that a man hates whatever is opposed to the object of his love, is the effect of love. Hence zeal is set down
                     as an effect of love rather than of hatred.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A4-p12"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A4-p13"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q28_A3.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q28_A5.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q28_A5" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q28_A4.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q28_A6.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q28_A5-p0.1">Whether love is a passion that wounds the lover?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A5-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A5-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that love wounds the lover. For languor denotes a hurt in the one that languishes. But love causes languor:
                     for it is written (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q28_A5-p2.1" href="./asv.html#Song.2.5" target="asv">Cant 2:5</a>): "Stay me up with flowers, compass me about with apples; because I languish with love." Therefore love is a wounding passion.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A5-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, melting is a kind of dissolution. But love melts that in which it is: for it is written (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q28_A5-p3.1" href="./asv.html#Song.5.6" target="asv">Cant 5:6</a>): "My soul melted when my beloved spoke." Therefore love is a dissolvent: therefore it is a corruptive and a wounding passion.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A5-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, fervor denotes a certain excess of heat; which excess has a corruptive effect. But love causes fervor: for Dionysius
                     (Coel. Hier. vii) in reckoning the properties belonging to the Seraphim's love, includes "hot" and "piercing" and "most fervent."
                     Moreover it is said of love (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q28_A5-p4.1" href="./asv.html#Song.8.6" target="asv">Cant 8:6</a>) that "its lamps are fire and flames." Therefore love is a wounding and corruptive passion.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A5-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> Dionysius says (Div. Nom. iv) that "everything loves itself with a love that holds it together," i.e. that preserves it.
                     Therefore love is not a wounding passion, but rather one that preserves and perfects.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A5-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> As stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q28_A5-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q26_A1.html">Q[26], AA[1]</a>,2;
                     <a id="FS_Q28_A5-p6.2" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q27_A1.html"> Q[27], A[1]</a>), love denotes a certain adapting of the appetitive power to some good. Now nothing is hurt by being adapted to that which
                     is suitable to it; rather, if possible, it is perfected and bettered. But if a thing be adapted to that which is not suitable
                     to it, it is hurt and made worse thereby. Consequently love of a suitable good perfects and betters the lover; but
                     love of a good which is unsuitable to the lover, wounds and worsens him. Wherefore man is perfected and bettered chiefly by
                     the love of God: but is wounded and worsened by the love of sin, according to
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q28_A5-p6.3" href="./asv.html#Hos.9.10" target="asv"> Osee 9:10</a>: "They became abominable, as those things which they loved."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A5-p7"> And let this be understood as applying to love in respect of its formal element, i.e. in regard to the appetite. But in respect
                     of the material element in the passion of love, i.e. a certain bodily change, it happens that love is hurtful, by reason of
                     this change being excessive: just as it happens in the senses, and in every act of a power of the soul that is exercised through
                     the change of some bodily organ.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A5-p8"> In reply to the objections, it is to be observed that four proximate effects may be ascribed to love: viz. melting, enjoyment,
                     languor, and fervor. Of these the first is "melting," which is opposed to freezing. For things that are frozen, are closely
                     bound together, so as to be hard to pierce. But it belongs to love that the appetite is fitted to receive the good which is
                     loved, inasmuch as the object loved is in the lover, as stated above 
                     <a id="FS_Q28_A5-p8.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q28_A2.html">(A[2])</a>.
                     Consequently the freezing or hardening of the heart is a disposition incompatible with love: while melting denotes a softening
                     of the heart, whereby the heart shows itself to be ready for the entrance of the beloved. If, then, the beloved is present
                     and possessed, pleasure or enjoyment ensues. But if the beloved be absent, two passions arise; viz. sadness at its absence,
                     which is denoted by "languor" (hence Cicero in De Tusc. Quaest. iii, 11 applies the term "ailment" chiefly to sadness); and
                     an intense desire to possess the beloved, which is signified by "fervor." And these are the effects of love considered formally,
                     according to the relation of the appetitive power to its object. But in the passion of love, other effects ensue, proportionate
                     to the above, in respect of a change in the organ.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A5-p9"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A5-p10"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q28_A4.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q28_A6.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q28_A6" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q28_A5.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q29.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q28_A6-p0.1">Whether love is cause of all that the lover does?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A6-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A6-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that the lover does not do everything from love. For love is a passion, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q28_A6-p2.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q26_A2.html">Q[26], A[2]</a>). But man does not do everything from passion: but some things he does from choice, and some things from ignorance, as stated
                     in Ethic. v, 8. Therefore not everything that a man does, is done from love.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A6-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, the appetite is a principle of movement and action in all animals, as stated in De Anima iii, 10. If, therefore,
                     whatever a man does is done from love, the other passions of the appetitive faculty are superfluous.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A6-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, nothing is produced at one and the same time by contrary causes. But some things are done from hatred. Therefore
                     all things are not done from love.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A6-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> Dionysius says (Div. Nom. iv) that "all things, whatever they do, they do for the love of good."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A6-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> Every agent acts for an end, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q28_A6-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q1_A2.html">Q[1], A[2]</a> ). Now the end is the good desired and loved by each one. Wherefore it is evident that every agent, whatever it be, does
                     every action from love of some kind.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A6-p7">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> This objection takes love as a passion existing in the sensitive appetite. But here we are speaking of love in a general
                     sense, inasmuch as it includes intellectual, rational, animal, and natural love: for it is in this sense that Dionysius speaks
                     of love in chapter iv of De Divinis Nominibus.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A6-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> As stated above 
                     <a id="FS_Q28_A6-p8.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q28_A5.html">(A[5];</a> Q[27], A[4]) desire, sadness and pleasure, and consequently all the other passions of the soul, result from love. Wherefore
                     every act proceeds from any passion, proceeds also from love as from a first cause: and so the other passions, which are proximate
                     causes, are not superfluous.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A6-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> Hatred also is a result of love, as we shall state further on (
                     <a id="FS_Q28_A6-p9.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q29_A2.html">Q[29], A[2]</a>).
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A6-p10"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q28_A6-p11"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q28_A5.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q29.html"></a>
               </div>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q27_A4.html"></a>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q28_A1.html"></a>
            </div>
            <div id="FS_Q29" class="div3">
               <a href="summa.FS_Q28_A6.html"></a>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q29_A1.html"></a>
               <h3 id="FS_Q29-p0.1">OF HATRED (SIX ARTICLES)</h3>
               <p id="FS_Q29-p1"></p>
               <p id="FS_Q29-p2"> We must now consider hatred: concerning which there are six points of inquiry:</p>
               <p id="FS_Q29-p3"> (1) Whether evil is the cause and the object of hatred?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q29-p4"> (2) Whether love is the cause of hatred?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q29-p5"> (3) Whether hatred is stronger than love?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q29-p6"> (4) Whether a man can hate himself?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q29-p7"> (5) Whether a man can hate the truth?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q29-p8"> (6) Whether a thing can be the object of universal hatred?</p>
               <div id="FS_Q29_A1" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q29.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q29_A2.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q29_A1-p0.1">Whether evil is the cause and object of hatred?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A1-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A1-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that evil is not the object and cause of hatred. For everything that exists, as such, is good. If therefore
                     evil be the object of hatred, it follows that nothing but the lack of something can be the object of hatred: which is clearly
                     untrue.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A1-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, hatred of evil is praise-worthy; hence (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q29_A1-p3.1" href="./asv.html#iiMacc.3.1" target="asv">2 Macc 3:1</a>) some are praised for that "the laws were very well kept, because of the godliness of Onias the high-priest, and the hatred
                     of their souls [Douay: 'his soul'] had no evil." If, therefore, nothing but evil be the object of hatred, it would follow
                     that all hatred is commendable: and this is clearly false.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A1-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, the same thing is not at the same time both good and evil. But the same thing is lovable and hateful to different
                     subjects. Therefore hatred is not only of evil, but also of good.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A1-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> Hatred is the opposite of love. But the object of love is good, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q29_A1-p5.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q26_A1.html">Q[26], A[1]</a>;
                     <a id="FS_Q29_A1-p5.2" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q27_A1.html"> Q[27], A[1]</a>). Therefore the object of hatred is evil.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A1-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> Since the natural appetite is the result of apprehension (though this apprehension is not in the same subject as the natural
                     appetite), it seems that what applies to the inclination of the natural appetite, applies also to the animal appetite, which
                     does result from an apprehension in the same subject, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q29_A1-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q26_A1.html">Q[26], A[1]</a>). Now, with regard to the natural appetite, it is evident, that just as each thing is naturally attuned
                     and adapted to that which is suitable to it, wherein consists natural love; so has it a natural dissonance from that which
                     opposes and destroys it; and this is natural hatred. So, therefore, in the animal appetite, or in the intellectual appetite,
                     love is a certain harmony of the appetite with that which is apprehended as suitable; while hatred is dissonance of the appetite
                     from that which is apprehended as repugnant and hurtful. Now, just as whatever is suitable, as such, bears the aspect of
                     good; so whatever is repugnant, as such, bears the aspect of evil. And therefore, just as good is the object of love, so evil
                     is the object of hatred.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A1-p7">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> Being, as such, has not the aspect of repugnance but only of fittingness; because being is common to all things. But being,
                     inasmuch as it is this determinate being, has an aspect of repugnance to some determinate being. And in this way, one being
                     is hateful to another, and is evil; though not in itself, but by comparison with something else.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A1-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> Just as a thing may be apprehended as good, when it is not truly good; so a thing may be apprehended as evil, whereas it
                     is not truly evil. Hence it happens sometimes that neither hatred of evil nor love of good is good.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A1-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> To different things the same thing may be lovable or hateful: in respect of the natural appetite, owing to one and the same
                     thing being naturally suitable to one thing, and naturally unsuitable to another: thus heat is becoming to fire and unbecoming
                     to water: and in respect of the animal appetite, owing to one and the same thing being apprehended by one as good, by another
                     as bad.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A1-p10"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A1-p11"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q29.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q29_A2.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q29_A2" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q29_A1.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q29_A3.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q29_A2-p0.1">Whether love is a cause of hatred?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A2-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A2-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that love is not a cause of hatred. For "the opposite members of a division are naturally simultaneous" (Praedic.
                     x). But love and hatred are opposite members of a division, since they are contrary to one another. Therefore they are naturally
                     simultaneous. Therefore love is not the cause of hatred.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A2-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, of two contraries, one is not the cause of the other. But love and hatred are contraries. Therefore love is not
                     the cause of hatred.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A2-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, that which follows is not the cause of that which precedes. But hatred precedes love, seemingly: since hatred implies
                     a turning away from evil, whereas love implies a turning towards good. Therefore love is not the cause of hatred.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A2-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> Augustine says (De Civ. Dei xiv, 7,9) that all emotions are caused by love. Therefore hatred also, since it is an emotion
                     of the soul, is caused by love.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A2-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> As stated above 
                     <a id="FS_Q29_A2-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q29_A1.html">(A[1])</a>, love consists in a certain agreement of the lover with the object loved, while hatred consists in a certain disagreement
                     or dissonance. Now we should consider in each thing, what agrees with it, before that which disagrees: since a thing disagrees
                     with another, through destroying or hindering that which agrees with it. Consequently love must needs precede hatred; and
                     nothing is hated, save through being
                     contrary to a suitable thing which is loved. And hence it is that every hatred is caused by love.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A2-p7">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> The opposite members of a division are sometimes naturally simultaneous, both really and logically; e.g. two species of animal,
                     or two species of color. Sometimes they are simultaneous logically, while, in reality, one precedes, and causes the other;
                     e.g. the species of numbers, figures and movements. Sometimes they are not simultaneous either really or logically; e.g. substance
                     and accident; for substance is in reality the cause of accident; and
                     being is predicated of substance before it is predicated of accident, by a priority of reason, because it is not predicated
                     of accident except inasmuch as the latter is in substance. Now love and hatred are naturally simultaneous, logically but not
                     really. Wherefore nothing hinders love from being the cause of hatred.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A2-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> Love and hatred are contraries if considered in respect of the same thing. But if taken in respect of contraries, they are
                     not themselves contrary, but consequent to one another: for it amounts to the same that one love a certain thing, or that
                     one hate its contrary. Thus love of one thing is the cause of one's hating its contrary.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A2-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> In the order of execution, the turning away from one term precedes the turning towards the other. But the reverse is the
                     case in the order of intention: since approach to one term is the reason for turning away from the other. Now the appetitive
                     movement belongs rather to the order of intention than to that of execution. Wherefore love precedes hatred: because each
                     is an appetitive movement.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A2-p10"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A2-p11"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q29_A1.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q29_A3.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q29_A3" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q29_A2.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q29_A4.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q29_A3-p0.1">Whether hatred is stronger than love?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A3-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A3-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that hatred is stronger than love. For Augustine says (QQ. 83, qu. 36): "There is no one who does not flee
                     from pain, more than he desires pleasure." But flight from pain pertains to hatred; while desire for pleasure belongs to love.
                     Therefore hatred is stronger than love.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A3-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, the weaker is overcome by the stronger. But love is overcome by hatred: when, that is to say, love is turned into
                     hatred. Therefore hatred is stronger than love.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A3-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, the emotions of the soul are shown by their effects. But man insists more on repelling what is hateful, than on
                     seeking what is pleasant: thus also irrational animals refrain from pleasure for fear of the whip, as Augustine instances
                     (QQ. 83, qu. 36). Therefore hatred is stronger than love.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A3-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> Good is stronger than evil; because "evil does nothing except in virtue of good," as Dionysius says (Div. Nom. iv). But hatred
                     and love differ according to the difference of good and evil. Therefore love is stronger than hatred.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A3-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> It is impossible for an effect to be stronger than its cause. Now every hatred arises from some love as its cause, as above
                     stated 
                     <a id="FS_Q29_A3-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q29_A2.html">(A[2])</a>. Therefore it is impossible for hatred to be stronger than love absolutely.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A3-p7"> But furthermore, love must needs be, absolutely speaking, stronger than hatred. Because a thing is moved to the end more
                     strongly than to the means. Now turning away from evil is directed as a means to the gaining of good. Wherefore, absolutely
                     speaking, the soul's movement in respect of good is stronger than its movement in respect of evil.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A3-p8"> Nevertheless hatred sometimes seems to be stronger than love, for two reasons. First, because hatred is more keenly felt
                     than love. For, since the sensitive perception is accompanied by a certain impression; when once the impression has been received
                     it is not felt so keenly as in the moment of receiving it. Hence the heat of a hectic fever, though greater, is nevertheless
                     not felt so much as the heat of tertian fever; because the heat of the hectic fever is habitual and like a
                     second nature. For this reason, love is felt more keenly in the absence of the object loved; thus Augustine says (De Trin.
                     x, 12) that "love is felt more keenly when we lack what we love." And for the same reason, the unbecomingness of that which
                     is hated is felt more keenly than the becomingness of that which is loved. Secondly, because comparison is made between a
                     hatred and a love which are not mutually corresponding. Because, according to different degrees of good there are different
                     degrees of love to which correspond different degrees of hatred. Wherefore a hatred that corresponds to a greater love, moves
                     us more than a lesser love.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A3-p9"> Hence it is clear how to reply to the First Objection. For the love of pleasure is less than the love of self-preservation,
                     to which corresponds flight from pain. Wherefore we flee from pain more than we love pleasure.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A3-p10"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A3-p11"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q29_A2.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q29_A4.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q29_A4" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q29_A3.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q29_A5.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q29_A4-p0.1">Whether a man can hate himself?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A4-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A4-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that a man can hate himself. For it is written (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q29_A4-p2.1" href="./asv.html#Ps.10.6" target="asv">Ps. 10:6</a>): "He that loveth iniquity, hateth his own soul." But many love iniquity. Therefore many hate themselves.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A4-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, him we hate, to whom we wish and work evil. But sometimes a man wishes and works evil to himself, e.g. a man who
                     kills himself. Therefore some men hate themselves.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A4-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, Boethius says (De Consol. ii) that "avarice makes a man hateful"; whence we may conclude that everyone hates a miser.
                     But some men are misers. Therefore they hate themselves.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A4-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> The Apostle says (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q29_A4-p5.1" href="./asv.html#Eph.5.29" target="asv">Eph. 5:29</a>) that "no man ever hated his own flesh."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A4-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> Properly speaking, it is impossible for a man to hate himself. For everything naturally desires good, nor can anyone desire
                     anything for himself, save under the aspect of good: for "evil is outside the scope of the will," as Dionysius says (Div.
                     Nom. iv). Now to love a man is to will good to him, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q29_A4-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q26_A4.html">Q[26], A[4]</a>). Consequently, a man must, of necessity, love himself; and it is impossible for a man to hate himself,
                     properly speaking.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A4-p7"> But accidentally it happens that a man hates himself: and this in two ways. First, on the part of the good which a man wills
                     to himself. For it happens sometimes that what is desired as good in some particular respect, is simply evil; and in this
                     way, a man accidentally wills evil to himself; and thus hates himself. Secondly, in regard to himself, to whom he wills good.
                     For each thing is that which is predominant in it; wherefore the state is said to do what the king does, as if
                     the king were the whole state. Now it is clear that man is principally the mind of man. And it happens that some men account
                     themselves as being principally that which they are in their material and sensitive nature. Wherefore they love themselves
                     according to what they take themselves to be, while they hate that which they really are, by desiring what is contrary to
                     reason. And in both these ways, "he that loveth iniquity hateth" not only "his own soul," but also himself.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A4-p8"> Wherefore the reply to the First Objection is evident.</p>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A4-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> No man wills and works evil to himself, except he apprehend it under the aspect of good. For even they who kill themselves,
                     apprehend death itself as a good, considered as putting an end to some unhappiness or pain.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A4-p10">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> The miser hates something accidental to himself, but not for that reason does he hate himself: thus a sick man hates his
                     sickness for the very reason that he loves himself. Or we may say that avarice makes man hateful to others, but not to himself.
                     In fact, it is caused by inordinate self-love, in respect of which, man desires temporal goods for himself more than he should.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A4-p11"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A4-p12"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q29_A3.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q29_A5.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q29_A5" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q29_A4.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q29_A6.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q29_A5-p0.1">Whether a man can hate the truth?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A5-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A5-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that a man cannot hate the truth. For good, true, and being are convertible. But a man cannot hate good. Neither,
                     therefore, can he hate the truth.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A5-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, "All men have a natural desire for knowledge," as stated in the beginning of the Metaphysics i, 1. But knowledge
                     is only of truth. Therefore truth is naturally desired and loved. But that which is in a thing naturally, is always in it.
                     Therefore no man can hate the truth.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A5-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, the Philosopher says (Rhet. ii, 4) that "men love those who are straightforward." But there can be no other motive
                     for this save truth. Therefore man loves the truth naturally. Therefore he cannot hate it.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A5-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> The Apostle says (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q29_A5-p5.1" href="./asv.html#Gal.4.16" target="asv">Gal. 4:16</a>): "Am I become your enemy because I tell you the truth?" [*St. Thomas quotes the passage, probably from memory, as though
                     it were an assertion: "I am become," etc.]
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A5-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> Good, true and being are the same in reality, but differ as considered by reason. For good is considered in the light of
                     something desirable, while being and true are not so considered: because good is "what all things seek." Wherefore good, as
                     such, cannot be the object of hatred, neither in general nor in particular. Being and truth in general cannot be the object
                     of hatred: because disagreement is the cause of hatred, and agreement is the cause of love;
                     while being and truth are common to all things. But nothing hinders some particular being or some particular truth being an
                     object of hatred, in so far as it is considered as hurtful and repugnant; since hurtfulness and repugnance are not incompatible
                     with the notion of being and truth, as they are with the notion of good.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A5-p7"> Now it may happen in three ways that some particular truth is repugnant or hurtful to the good we love. First, according
                     as truth is in things as in its cause and origin. And thus man sometimes hates a particular truth, when he wishes that what
                     is true were not true. Secondly, according as truth is in man's knowledge, which hinders him from gaining the object loved:
                     such is the case of those who wish not to know the truth of faith, that they may sin freely; in whose person it is
                     said (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q29_A5-p7.1" href="./asv.html#Job.21.14" target="asv">Job 21:14</a>): "We desire not the knowledge of Thy ways." Thirdly, a particular truth is hated, as being repugnant, inasmuch as it is
                     in the intellect of another man: as, for instance, when a man wishes to remain hidden in his sin, he hates that anyone should
                     know the truth about his sin. In this respect, Augustine says (Confess. x, 23) that men "love truth when it enlightens, they
                     hate it when it reproves." This suffices for the Reply to the First Objection.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A5-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> The knowledge of truth is lovable in itself: hence Augustine says that men love it when it enlightens. But accidentally,
                     the knowledge of truth may become hateful, in so far as it hinders one from accomplishing one's desire.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A5-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> The reason why we love those who are straightforward is that they make known the truth, and the knowledge of the truth, considered
                     in itself, is a desirable thing.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A5-p10"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A5-p11"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q29_A4.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q29_A6.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q29_A6" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q29_A5.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q30.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q29_A6-p0.1">Whether anything can be an object of universal hatred?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A6-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A6-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that a thing cannot be an object of universal hatred. Because hatred is a passion of the sensitive appetite,
                     which is moved by an apprehension in the senses. But the senses cannot apprehend the universal. Therefore a thing cannot be
                     an object of universal hatred.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A6-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, hatred is caused by disagreement; and where there is disagreement, there is nothing in common. But the notion of
                     universality implies something in common. Therefore nothing can be the object of universal hatred.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A6-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, the object of hatred is evil. But "evil is in things, and not in the mind" (Metaph. vi, 4). Since therefore the
                     universal is in the mind only, which abstracts the universal from the particular, it would seem that hatred cannot have a
                     universal object.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A6-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> The Philosopher says (Rhet. ii, 4) that "anger is directed to something singular, whereas hatred is also directed to a thing
                     in general; for everybody hates the thief and the backbiter."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A6-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> There are two ways of speaking of the universal: first, as considered under the aspect of universality; secondly, as considered
                     in the nature to which it is ascribed: for it is one thing to consider the universal man, and another to consider a man as
                     man. If, therefore, we take the universal, in the first way, no sensitive power, whether of apprehension or of appetite, can
                     attain the universal: because the universal is obtained by abstraction from individual
                     matter, on which every sensitive power is based.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A6-p7"> Nevertheless the sensitive powers, both of apprehension and of appetite, can tend to something universally. Thus we say that
                     the object of sight is color considered generically; not that the sight is cognizant of universal color, but because the fact
                     that color is cognizant by the sight, is attributed to color, not as being this particular color, but simply because it is
                     color. Accordingly hatred in the sensitive faculty can regard something universally: because this thing, by
                     reason of its common nature, and not merely as an individual, is hostile to the animal---for instance, a wolf in regard to
                     a sheep. Hence a sheep hates the wolf universally. On the other hand, anger is always caused by something in particular: because
                     it is caused by some action of the one that hurts us; and actions proceed from individuals. For this reason the Philosopher
                     says (Rhet. ii, 4) that "anger is always directed to something singular, whereas hatred can be directed to a thing in
                     general."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A6-p8"> But according as hatred is in the intellectual part, since it arises from the universal apprehension of the intellect, it
                     can regard the universal in both ways.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A6-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> The senses do not apprehend the universal, as such: but they apprehend something to which the character of universality is
                     given by abstraction.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A6-p10">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> That which is common to all cannot be a reason of hatred. But nothing hinders a thing from being common to many, and at variance
                     with others, so as to be hateful to them.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A6-p11">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> This argument considers the universal under the aspect of universality: and thus it does not come under the sensitive apprehension
                     or appetite.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A6-p12"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q29_A6-p13"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q29_A5.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q30.html"></a>
               </div>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q28_A6.html"></a>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q29_A1.html"></a>
            </div>
            <div id="FS_Q30" class="div3">
               <a href="summa.FS_Q29_A6.html"></a>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q30_A1.html"></a>
               <h3 id="FS_Q30-p0.1">OF CONCUPISCENCE (FOUR ARTICLES)</h3>
               <p id="FS_Q30-p1"></p>
               <p id="FS_Q30-p2"> We have now to consider concupiscence: under which head there are four points of inquiry:</p>
               <p id="FS_Q30-p3"> (1) Whether concupiscence is in the sensitive appetite only?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q30-p4"> (2) Whether concupiscence is a specific passion?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q30-p5"> (3) Whether some concupiscences are natural, and some not natural?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q30-p6"> (4) Whether concupiscence is infinite?</p>
               <div id="FS_Q30_A1" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q30.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q30_A2.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q30_A1-p0.1">Whether concupiscence is in the sensitive appetite only?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q30_A1-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q30_A1-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that concupiscence is not only in the sensitive appetite. For there is a concupiscence of wisdom, according
                     to
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q30_A1-p2.1" href="./asv.html#Wis.6.21" target="asv"> Wis. 6:21</a>: "The concupiscence [Douay: 'desire'] of wisdom bringeth to the everlasting kingdom." But the sensitive appetite can have
                     no tendency to wisdom. Therefore concupiscence is not only in the sensitive appetite.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q30_A1-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, the desire for the commandments of God is not in the sensitive appetite: in fact the Apostle says (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q30_A1-p3.1" href="./asv.html#Rom.7.18" target="asv">Rom. 7:18</a>): "There dwelleth not in me, that is to say, in my flesh, that which is good." But desire for God's commandments is an act
                     of concupiscence, according to
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q30_A1-p3.2" href="./asv.html#Ps.118.20" target="asv"> Ps. 118:20</a>: "My soul hath coveted [concupivit] to long for thy justifications." Therefore concupiscence is not only in the sensitive
                     appetite.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q30_A1-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, to each power, its proper good is a matter of concupiscence. Therefore concupiscence is in each power of the soul,
                     and not only in the sensitive appetite.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q30_A1-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> Damascene says (De Fide Orth. ii, 12) that "the irrational part which is subject and amenable to reason, is divided into
                     the faculties of concupiscence and anger. This is the irrational part of the soul, passive and appetitive." Therefore concupiscence
                     is in the sensitive appetite.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q30_A1-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> As the Philosopher says (Rhet. i, 11), "concupiscence is a craving for that which is pleasant." Now pleasure is twofold,
                     as we shall state later on (
                     <a id="FS_Q30_A1-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q31_A3.html">Q[31], AA[3]</a>,4): one is in the intelligible good, which is the good of reason; the other is in good perceptible to the senses. The former
                     pleasure seems to belong to soul alone: whereas the latter belongs to both soul and body: because the sense is a power seated
                     in a bodily organ:
                     wherefore sensible good is the good of the whole composite. Now concupiscence seems to be the craving for this latter pleasure,
                     since it belongs to the united soul and body, as is implied by the Latin word "concupiscentia." Therefore, properly speaking,
                     concupiscence is in the sensitive appetite, and in the concupiscible faculty, which takes its name from it.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q30_A1-p7">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> The craving for wisdom, or other spiritual goods, is sometimes called concupiscence; either by reason of a certain likeness;
                     or on account of the craving in the higher part of the soul being so vehement that it overflows into the lower appetite, so
                     that the latter also, in its own way, tends to the spiritual good, following the lead of the higher appetite, the result being
                     that the body itself renders its service in spiritual matters, according
                     to
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q30_A1-p7.1" href="./asv.html#Ps.83.3" target="asv"> Ps. 83:3</a>: "My heart and my flesh have rejoiced in the living God."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q30_A1-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> Properly speaking, desire may be not only in the lower, but also in the higher appetite. For it does not imply fellowship
                     in craving, as concupiscence does; but simply movement towards the thing desired.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q30_A1-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> It belongs to each power of the soul to seek its proper good by the natural appetite, which does not arise from apprehension.
                     But the craving for good, by the animal appetite, which arises from apprehension, belongs to the appetitive power alone. And
                     to crave a thing under the aspect of something delightful to the senses, wherein concupiscence properly consists, belongs
                     to the concupiscible power.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q30_A1-p10"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q30_A1-p11"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q30.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q30_A2.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q30_A2" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q30_A1.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q30_A3.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q30_A2-p0.1">Whether concupiscence is a specific passion?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q30_A2-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q30_A2-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that concupiscence is not a specific passion of the concupiscible power. For passions are distinguished by
                     their objects. But the object of the concupiscible power is something delightful to the senses; and this is also the object
                     of concupiscence, as the Philosopher declares (Rhet. i, 11). Therefore concupiscence is not a specific passion of the concupiscible
                     faculty.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q30_A2-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, Augustine says (QQ. 83, qu. 33) that "covetousness is the love of transitory things": so that it is not distinct
                     from love. But all specific passions are distinct from one another. Therefore concupiscence is not a specific passion in the
                     concupiscible faculty.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q30_A2-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, to each passion of the concupiscible faculty there is a specific contrary passion in that faculty, as stated above
                     (
                     <a id="FS_Q30_A2-p4.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q23_A4.html">Q[23], A[4]</a>). But no specific passion of the concupiscible faculty is contrary to concupiscence. For Damascene says (De Fide Orth. ii,
                     12) that "good when desired gives rise to concupiscence; when present, it gives joy: in like manner, the evil we apprehend
                     makes us fear, the evil that is present makes us sad":
                     from which we gather that as sadness is contrary to joy, so is fear contrary to concupiscence. But fear is not in the concupiscible,
                     but in the irascible part. Therefore concupiscence is not a specific passion of the concupiscible faculty.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q30_A2-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> Concupiscence is caused by love, and tends to pleasure, both of which are passions of the concupiscible faculty. Hence it
                     is distinguished from the other concupiscible passions, as a specific passion.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q30_A2-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> As stated above 
                     <a id="FS_Q30_A2-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q30_A1.html">(A[1];</a> Q[23], A[1]), the good which gives pleasure to the senses is the common object of the concupiscible faculty. Hence the various
                     concupiscible passions are distinguished according to the differences of that good. Now the diversity of this object can arise
                     from the very nature of the object, or from a diversity in its active power. The diversity, derived from the nature of the
                     active object, causes a material
                     difference of passions: while the difference in regard to its active power causes a formal diversity of passions, in respect
                     of which the passions differ specifically.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q30_A2-p7"> Now the nature of the motive power of the end or of the good, differs according as it is really present, or absent: because,
                     according as it is present, it causes the faculty to find rest in it; whereas, according as it is absent, it causes the faculty
                     to be moved towards it. Wherefore the object of sensible pleasure causes love, inasmuch as, so to speak, it attunes and conforms
                     the appetite to itself; it causes concupiscence, inasmuch as, when absent, it draws the faculty to
                     itself; and it causes pleasure, inasmuch as, when present, it makes the faculty to find rest in itself. Accordingly, concupiscence
                     is a passion differing "in species" from both love and pleasure. But concupiscences of this or that pleasurable object differ
                     "in number."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q30_A2-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> Pleasurable good is the object of concupiscence, not absolutely, but considered as absent: just as the sensible, considered
                     as past, is the object of memory. For these particular conditions diversify the species of passions, and even of the powers
                     of the sensitive part, which regards particular things.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q30_A2-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> In the passage quoted we have causal, not essential predication: for covetousness is not essentially love, but an effect
                     of love. We may also say that Augustine is taking covetousness in a wide sense, for any movement of the appetite in respect
                     of good to come: so that it includes both love and hope.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q30_A2-p10">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> The passion which is directly contrary to concupiscence has no name, and stands in relation to evil, as concupiscence in
                     regard to good. But since, like fear, it regards the absent evil; sometimes it goes by the name of fear, just as hope is sometimes
                     called covetousness. For a small good or evil is reckoned as though it were nothing: and consequently every movement of the
                     appetite in future good or evil is called hope or fear, which regard good and
                     evil as arduous.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q30_A2-p11"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q30_A2-p12"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q30_A1.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q30_A3.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q30_A3" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q30_A2.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q30_A4.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q30_A3-p0.1">Whether some concupiscences are natural, and some not natural?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q30_A3-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q30_A3-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that concupiscences are not divided into those which are natural and those which are not. For concupiscence
                     belongs to the animal appetite, as stated above (A[1], ad 3). But the natural appetite is contrasted with the animal appetite.
                     Therefore no concupiscence is natural.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q30_A3-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, material differences makes no difference of species, but only numerical difference; a difference which is outside
                     the purview of science. But if some concupiscences are natural, and some not, they differ only in respect of their objects;
                     which amounts to a material difference, which is one of number only. Therefore concupiscences should not be divided into those
                     that are natural and those that are not.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q30_A3-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, reason is contrasted with nature, as stated in Phys. ii, 5. If therefore in man there is a concupiscence which is
                     not natural, it must needs be rational. But this is impossible: because, since concupiscence is a passion, it belongs to the
                     sensitive appetite, and not to the will, which is the rational appetite. Therefore there are no concupiscences which are not
                     natural.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q30_A3-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> The Philosopher (Ethic. iii, 11 and Rhetor. i, 11) distinguishes natural concupiscences from those that are not natural.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q30_A3-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> As stated above 
                     <a id="FS_Q30_A3-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q30_A1.html">(A[1])</a>, concupiscence is the craving for pleasurable good. Now a thing is pleasurable in two ways. First, because it is suitable
                     to the nature of the animal; for example, food, drink, and the like: and concupiscence of such pleasurable things is said
                     to be natural. Secondly, a thing is pleasurable because it is apprehended as suitable to the animal: as when one apprehends
                     something as good and suitable, and
                     consequently takes pleasure in it: and concupiscence of such pleasurable things is said to be not natural, and is more wont
                     to be called "cupidity."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q30_A3-p7"> Accordingly concupiscences of the first kind, or natural concupiscences, are common to men and other animals: because to
                     both is there something suitable and pleasurable according to nature: and in these all men agree; wherefore the Philosopher
                     (Ethic. iii, 11) calls them "common" and "necessary." But concupiscences of the second kind are proper to men, to whom it
                     is proper to devise something as good and suitable, beyond that which nature requires. Hence the Philosopher says
                     (Rhet. i, 11) that the former concupiscences are "irrational," but the latter, "rational." And because different men reason
                     differently, therefore the latter are also called (Ethic. iii, 11) "peculiar and acquired," i.e. in addition to those that
                     are natural.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q30_A3-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> The same thing that is the object of the natural appetite, may be the object of the animal appetite, once it is apprehended.
                     And in this way there may be an animal concupiscence of food, drink, and the like, which are objects of the natural appetite.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q30_A3-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> The difference between those concupiscences that are natural and those that are not, is not merely a material difference;
                     it is also, in a way, formal, in so far as it arises from a difference in the active object. Now the object of the appetite
                     is the apprehended good. Hence diversity of the active object follows from diversity of apprehension: according as a thing
                     is apprehended as suitable, either by absolute apprehension, whence arise natural
                     concupiscences, which the Philosopher calls "irrational" (Rhet. i, 11); or by apprehension together with deliberation, whence
                     arise those concupiscences that are not natural, and which for this very reason the Philosopher calls "rational" (Rhet. i,
                     11).
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q30_A3-p10">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> Man has not only universal reason, pertaining to the intellectual faculty; but also particular reason pertaining to the sensitive
                     faculty, as stated in the 
                     <a id="FS_Q30_A3-p10.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FP_Q78_A4.html">FP, Q[78], A[4]</a>; 
                     <a id="FS_Q30_A3-p10.2" shape="rect" href="summa.FP_Q81_A3.html">FP, Q[81], A[3]</a>: so that even rational concupiscence may pertain to the sensitive appetite. Moreover the sensitive appetite can be moved
                     by the universal reason also, through the medium of the particular imagination.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q30_A3-p11"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q30_A3-p12"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q30_A2.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q30_A4.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q30_A4" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q30_A3.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q31.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q30_A4-p0.1">Whether concupiscence is infinite?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q30_A4-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q30_A4-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that concupiscence is not infinite. For the object of concupiscence is good, which has the aspect of an end.
                     But where there is infinity there is no end (Metaph. ii, 2). Therefore concupiscence cannot be infinite.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q30_A4-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, concupiscence is of the fitting good, since it proceeds from love. But the infinite is without proportion, and therefore
                     unfitting. Therefore concupiscence cannot be infinite.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q30_A4-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, there is no passing through infinite things: and thus there is no reaching an ultimate term in them. But the subject
                     of concupiscence is not delighted until he attain the ultimate term. Therefore, if concupiscence were infinite, no delight
                     would ever ensue.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q30_A4-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> The Philosopher says (Polit. i, 3) that "since concupiscence is infinite, men desire an infinite number of things."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q30_A4-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> As stated above 
                     <a id="FS_Q30_A4-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q30_A3.html">(A[3])</a>, concupiscence is twofold; one is natural, the other is not natural. Natural concupiscence cannot be actually infinite: because
                     it is of that which nature requires; and nature ever tends to something finite and fixed. Hence man never desires infinite
                     meat, or infinite drink. But just as in nature there is potential successive infinity, so can this kind of concupiscence be
                     infinite successively; so that, for
                     instance, after getting food, a man may desire food yet again; and so of anything else that nature requires: because these
                     bodily goods, when obtained, do not last for ever, but fail. Hence Our Lord said to the woman of Samaria (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q30_A4-p6.2" href="./asv.html#John.4.13" target="asv">Jn. 4:13</a>): "Whosever drinketh of this water, shall thirst again."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q30_A4-p7"> But non-natural concupiscence is altogether infinite. Because, as stated above 
                     <a id="FS_Q30_A4-p7.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q30_A3.html">(A[3])</a>, it follows from the reason, and it belongs to the reason to proceed to infinity. Hence he that desires riches, may desire
                     to be rich, not up to a certain limit, but to be simply as rich as possible.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q30_A4-p8"> Another reason may be assigned, according to the Philosopher (Polit. i, 3), why a certain concupiscence is finite, and another
                     infinite. Because concupiscence of the end is always infinite: since the end is desired for its own sake, e.g. health: and
                     thus greater health is more desired, and so on to infinity; just as, if a white thing of itself dilates the sight, that which
                     is more white dilates yet more. On the other hand, concupiscence of the means is not infinite, because the
                     concupiscence of the means is in suitable proportion to the end. Consequently those who place their end in riches have an
                     infinite concupiscence of riches; whereas those who desire riches, on account of the necessities of life, desire a finite
                     measure of riches, sufficient for the necessities of life, as the Philosopher says (Polit. i, 3). The same applies to the
                     concupiscence of any other things.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q30_A4-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> Every object of concupiscence is taken as something finite: either because it is finite in reality, as being once actually
                     desired; or because it is finite as apprehended. For it cannot be apprehended as infinite, since the infinite is that "from
                     which, however much we may take, there always remains something to be taken" (Phys. iii, 6).
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q30_A4-p10">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> The reason is possessed of infinite power, in a certain sense, in so far as it can consider a thing infinitely, as appears
                     in the addition of numbers and lines. Consequently, the infinite, taken in a certain way, is proportionate to reason. In fact
                     the universal which the reason apprehends, is infinite in a sense, inasmuch as it contains potentially an infinite number
                     of singulars.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q30_A4-p11">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> In order that a man be delighted, there is no need for him to realize all that he desires: for he delights in the realization
                     of each object of his concupiscence.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q30_A4-p12"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q30_A4-p13"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q30_A3.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q31.html"></a>
               </div>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q29_A6.html"></a>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q30_A1.html"></a>
            </div>
            <div id="FS_Q31" class="div3">
               <a href="summa.FS_Q30_A4.html"></a>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q31_A1.html"></a>
               <h3 id="FS_Q31-p0.1">OF DELIGHT CONSIDERED IN ITSELF [*Or, Pleasure] (EIGHT ARTICLES)</h3>
               <p id="FS_Q31-p1"></p>
               <p id="FS_Q31-p2"> We must now consider delight and sadness. Concerning delight four things must be considered: (1) Delight in itself; (2) The
                  causes of delight; (3) Its effects; (4) Its goodness and malice.
               </p>
               <p id="FS_Q31-p3"> Under the first head there are eight points of inquiry:</p>
               <p id="FS_Q31-p4"> (1) Whether delight is a passion?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q31-p5"> (2) Whether delight is subject to time?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q31-p6"> (3) Whether it differs from joy?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q31-p7"> (4) Whether it is in the intellectual appetite?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q31-p8"> (5) Of the delights of the higher appetite compared with the delight of the lower;</p>
               <p id="FS_Q31-p9"> (6) Of sensible delights compared with one another;</p>
               <p id="FS_Q31-p10"> (7) Whether any delight is non-natural?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q31-p11"> (8) Whether one delight can be contrary to another?</p>
               <div id="FS_Q31_A1" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q31.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q31_A2.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q31_A1-p0.1">Whether delight is a passion?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A1-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A1-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that delight is not a passion. For Damascene (De Fide Orth. ii, 22) distinguishes operation from passion, and
                     says that "operation is a movement in accord with nature, while passion is a movement contrary to nature." But delight is
                     an operation, according to the Philosopher (Ethic. vii, 12; x, 5). Therefore delight is not a passion.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A1-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, "To be passive is to be moved," as stated in Phys. iii, 3. But delight does not consist in being moved, but in having
                     been moved; for it arises from good already gained. Therefore delight is not a passion.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A1-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, delight is a kind of a perfection of the one who is delighted; since it "perfects operation," as stated in Ethic.
                     x, 4,5. But to be perfected does not consist in being passive or in being altered, as stated in Phys. vii, 3 and De Anima
                     ii, 5. Therefore delight is not a passion.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A1-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> Augustine (De Civ. Dei ix, 2; xiv, 5 seqq) reckons delight, joy, or gladness among the other passions of the soul.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A1-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> The movements of the sensitive appetite, are properly called passions, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q31_A1-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q22_A3.html">Q[22], A[3]</a>). Now every emotion arising from a sensitive apprehension, is a movement of the sensitive appetite: and this must needs be
                     said of delight, since, according to the Philosopher (Rhet. i, 11) "delight is a certain movement of the soul and a sensible
                     establishing thereof all at once, in keeping with the nature of the thing."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A1-p7"> In order to understand this, we must observe that just as in natural things some happen to attain to their natural perfections,
                     so does this happen in animals. And though movement towards perfection does not occur all at once, yet the attainment of natural
                     perfection does occur all at once. Now there is this difference between animals and other natural things, that when these
                     latter are established in the state becoming their nature, they do not perceive it, whereas animals do.
                     And from this perception there arises a certain movement of the soul in the sensitive appetite; which movement is called delight.
                     Accordingly by saying that delight is "a movement of the soul," we designate its genus. By saying that it is "an establishing
                     in keeping with the thing's nature," i.e. with that which exists in the thing, we assign the cause of delight, viz. the presence
                     of a becoming good. By saying that this establishing is "all at once," we mean that this establishing is to be
                     understood not as in the process of establishment, but as in the fact of complete establishment, in the term of the movement,
                     as it were: for delight is not a "becoming" as Plato [*Phileb. 32,33] maintained, but a "complete fact," as stated in Ethic.
                     vii, 12. Lastly, by saying that this establishing is "sensible," we exclude the perfections of insensible things wherein there
                     is no delight. It is therefore evident that, since delight is a movement of the animal appetite arising from an
                     apprehension of sense, it is a passion of the soul.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A1-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> Connatural operation, which is unhindered, is a second perfection, as stated in De Anima ii, 1: and therefore when a thing
                     is established in its proper connatural and unhindered operation, delight follows, which consists in a state of completion,
                     as observed above. Accordingly when we say that delight is an operation, we designate, not its essence, but its cause.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A1-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> A twofold movement is to be observed in an animal: one, according to the intention of the end, and this belongs to the appetite;
                     the other, according to the execution, and this belongs to the external operation. And so, although in him who has already
                     gained the good in which he delights, the movement of execution ceases, by which the tends to the end; yet the movement of
                     the appetitive faculty does not cease, since, just as before it desired that
                     which it had not, so afterwards does it delight in that which is possesses. For though delight is a certain repose of the
                     appetite, if we consider the presence of the pleasurable good that satisfies the appetite, nevertheless there remains the
                     impression made on the appetite by its object, by reason of which delight is a kind of movement.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A1-p10">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> Although the name of passion is more appropriate to those passions which have a corruptive and evil tendency, such as bodily
                     ailments, as also sadness and fear in the soul; yet some passions have a tendency to something good, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q31_A1-p10.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q23_A1.html">Q[23], AA[1]</a>,4): and in this sense delight is called a passion.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A1-p11"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A1-p12"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q31.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q31_A2.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q31_A2" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q31_A1.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q31_A3.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q31_A2-p0.1">Whether delight is in time?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A2-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A2-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that delight is in time. For "delight is a kind of movement," as the Philosopher says (Rhet. i, 11). But all
                     movement is in time. Therefore delight is in time.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A2-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, a thing is said to last long and to be morose in respect of time. But some pleasures are called morose. Therefore
                     pleasure is in time.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A2-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, the passions of the soul are of one same genus. But some passions of the soul are in time. Therefore delight is
                     too.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A2-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> The Philosopher says (Ethic. x, 4) that "no one takes pleasure according to time."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A2-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> A thing may be in time in two ways: first, by itself; secondly, by reason of something else, and accidentally as it were.
                     For since time is the measure of successive things, those things are of themselves said to be in time, to which succession
                     or something pertaining to succession is essential: such are movement, repose, speech and such like. On the other hand, those
                     things are said to be in time, by reason of something else and not of themselves, to which
                     succession is not essential, but which are subject to something successive. Thus the fact of being a man is not essentially
                     something successive; since it is not a movement, but the term of a movement or change, viz. of this being begotten: yet,
                     because human being is subject to changeable causes, in this respect, to be a man is in time.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A2-p7"> Accordingly, we must say that delight, of itself indeed, is not in time: for it regards good already gained, which is, as
                     it were, the term of the movement. But if this good gained be subject to change, the delight therein will be in time accidentally:
                     whereas if it be altogether unchangeable, the delight therein will not be in time, either by reason of itself or accidentally.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A2-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> As stated in De Anima iii, 7, movement is twofold. One is "the act of something imperfect, i.e. of something existing in
                     potentiality, as such": this movement is successive and is in time. Another movement is "the act of something perfect, i.e.
                     of something existing in act," e.g. to understand, to feel, and to will and such like, also to have delight. This movement
                     is not successive, nor is it of itself in time.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A2-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> Delight is said to be long lasting or morose, according as it is accidentally in time.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A2-p10">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> Other passions have not for their object a good obtained, as delight has. Wherefore there is more of the movement of the
                     imperfect in them than in delight. And consequently it belongs more to delight not to be in time.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A2-p11"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A2-p12"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q31_A1.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q31_A3.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q31_A3" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q31_A2.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q31_A4.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q31_A3-p0.1">Whether delight differs from joy?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A3-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A3-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that delight is altogether the same as joy. Because the passions of the soul differ according to their objects.
                     But delight and joy have the same object, namely, a good obtained. Therefore joy is altogether the same as delight.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A3-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, one movement does not end in two terms. But one and the same movement, that of desire, ends in joy and delight.
                     Therefore delight and joy are altogether the same.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A3-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, if joy differs from delight, it seems that there is equal reason for distinguishing gladness, exultation, and cheerfulness
                     from delight, so that they would all be various passions of the soul. But this seems to be untrue. Therefore joy does not
                     differ from delight.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A3-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> We do not speak of joy in irrational animals; whereas we do speak of delight in them. Therefore joy is not the same as delight.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A3-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> Joy, as Avicenna states (De Anima iv), is a kind of delight. For we must observe that, just as some concupiscences are natural,
                     and some not natural, but consequent to reason, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q31_A3-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q30_A3.html">Q[30], A[3]</a>), so also some delights are natural, and some are not natural but rational. Or, as Damascene (De Fide Orth. ii, 13) and Gregory
                     of Nyssa [*Nemesius, De Nat. Hom. xviii.] put it, "some delights are of the body, some are of the soul";
                     which amounts to the same. For we take delight both in those things which we desire naturally, when we get them, and in those
                     things which we desire as a result of reason. But we do not speak of joy except when delight follows reason; and so we do
                     not ascribe joy to irrational animals, but only delight.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A3-p7"> Now whatever we desire naturally, can also be the object of reasoned desire and delight, but not vice versa. Consequently
                     whatever can be the object of delight, can also be the object of joy in rational beings. And yet everything is not always
                     the object of joy; since sometimes one feels a certain delight in the body, without rejoicing thereat according to reason.
                     And accordingly delight extends to more things than does joy.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A3-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> Since the object of the appetite of the soul is an apprehended good, diversity of apprehension pertains, in a way, to diversity
                     of the object. And so delights of the soul, which are also called joys, are distinct from bodily delights, which are not called
                     otherwise than delights: as we have observed above in regard to concupiscences (
                     <a id="FS_Q31_A3-p8.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q30_A3.html">Q[30], A[3]</a>, ad 2).
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A3-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> A like difference is to be observed in concupiscences also: so that delight corresponds to concupiscence, while joy corresponds
                     to desire, which seems to pertain more to concupiscence of the soul. Hence there is a difference of repose corresponding to
                     the difference of movement.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A3-p10">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> These other names pertaining to delight are derived from the effects of delight; for "laetitia" [gladness] is derived from
                     the "dilation" of the heart, as if one were to say "latitia"; "exultation" is derived from the exterior signs of inward delight,
                     which appear outwardly in so far as the inward joy breaks forth from its bounds; and "cheerfulness" is so called from certain
                     special signs and effects of gladness. Yet all these names seem to belong to
                     joy; for we do not employ them save in speaking of rational beings.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A3-p11"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A3-p12"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q31_A2.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q31_A4.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q31_A4" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q31_A3.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q31_A5.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q31_A4-p0.1">Whether delight is in the intellectual appetite?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A4-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A4-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that delight is not in the intellectual appetite. Because the Philosopher says (Rhet. i, 11) that "delight
                     is a sensible movement." But sensible movement is not in an intellectual power. Therefore delight is not in the intellectual
                     appetite.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A4-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, delight is a passion. But every passion is in the sensitive appetite. Therefore delight is only in the sensitive
                     appetite.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A4-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, delight is common to us and to the irrational animals. Therefore it is not elsewhere than in that power which we
                     have in common with irrational animals.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A4-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> It is written (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q31_A4-p5.1" href="./asv.html#Ps.36.4" target="asv">Ps. 36:4</a>): "Delight in the Lord." But the sensitive appetite cannot reach to God; only the intellectual appetite can. Therefore delight
                     can be in the intellectual appetite.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A4-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> As stated above 
                     <a id="FS_Q31_A4-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q31_A3.html">(A[3])</a>, a certain delight arises from the apprehension of the reason. Now on the reason apprehending something, not only the sensitive
                     appetite is moved, as regards its application to some particular thing, but also the intellectual appetite, which is called
                     the will. And accordingly in the intellectual appetite or will there is that delight which is called joy, but not bodily delight.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A4-p7"> However, there is this difference of delight in either power, that delight of the sensitive appetite is accompanied by a
                     bodily transmutation, whereas delight of the intellectual appetite is nothing but the mere movement of the will. Hence Augustine
                     says (De Civ. Dei xiv, 6) that "desire and joy are nothing else but a volition of consent to the things we wish."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A4-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> In this definition of the Philosopher, he uses the word "sensible" in its wide acceptation for any kind of perception. For
                     he says (Ethic. x, 4) that "delight is attendant upon every sense, as it is also upon every act of the intellect and contemplation."
                     Or we may say that he is defining delight of the sensitive appetite.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A4-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> Delight has the character of passion, properly speaking, when accompanied by bodily transmutation. It is not thus in the
                     intellectual appetite, but according to simple movement: for thus it is also in God and the angels. Hence the Philosopher
                     says (Ethic. vii, 14) that "God rejoices by one simple act": and Dionysius says at the end of De Coel. Hier., that "the angels
                     are not susceptible to our passible delight, but rejoice together with God with the
                     gladness of incorruption."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A4-p10">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> In us there is delight, not only in common with dumb animals, but also in common with angels. Wherefore Dionysius says (De
                     Coel. Hier.) that "holy men often take part in the angelic delights." Accordingly we have delight, not only in the sensitive
                     appetite, which we have in common with dumb animals, but also in the intellectual appetite, which we have in common with the
                     angels.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A4-p11"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A4-p12"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q31_A3.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q31_A5.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q31_A5" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q31_A4.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q31_A6.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q31_A5-p0.1">Whether bodily and sensible pleasures are greater than spiritual and intellectual pleasures?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A5-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A5-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that bodily and sensible pleasures are greater than spiritual and intelligible pleasures. For all men seek
                     some pleasure, according to the Philosopher (Ethic. x, 2,4). But more seek sensible pleasures, than intelligible spiritual
                     pleasures. Therefore bodily pleasures are greater.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A5-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, the greatness of a cause is known by its effect. But bodily pleasures have greater effects; since "they alter the
                     state of the body, and in some they cause madness" (Ethic. vii, 3). Therefore bodily pleasures are greater.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A5-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, bodily pleasures need to be tempered and checked, by reason of their vehemence: whereas there is no need to check
                     spiritual pleasures. Therefore bodily pleasures are greater.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A5-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> It is written (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q31_A5-p5.1" href="./asv.html#Ps.118.103" target="asv">Ps. 118:103</a>): "How sweet are Thy words to my palate; more than honey to my mouth!" And the Philosopher says (Ethic. x, 7) that "the greatest
                     pleasure is derived from the operation of wisdom."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A5-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> As stated above 
                     <a id="FS_Q31_A5-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q31_A1.html">(A[1])</a>, pleasure arises from union with a suitable object perceived or known. Now, in the operations of the soul, especially of
                     the sensitive and intellectual soul, it must be noted that, since they do not pass into outward matter, they are acts or perfections
                     of the agent, e.g. to understand, to feel, to will and the like: because actions which pass into outward matter, are actions
                     and perfections rather of the
                     matter transformed; for "movement is the act produced by the mover in the thing moved" (Phys. iii, 3). Accordingly the aforesaid
                     actions of the sensitive and intellectual soul, are themselves a certain good of the agent, and are known by sense and intellect.
                     Wherefore from them also does pleasure arise, and not only from their objects.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A5-p7"> If therefore we compare intellectual pleasures with sensible pleasures, according as we delight in the very actions, for
                     instance in sensitive and in intellectual knowledge; without doubt intellectual pleasures are much greater than sensible pleasures.
                     For man takes much more delight in knowing something, by understanding it, than in knowing something by perceiving it with
                     his sense. Because intellectual knowledge is more perfect; and because it is better known, since the
                     intellect reflects on its own act more than sense does. Moreover intellectual knowledge is more beloved: for there is no one
                     who would not forfeit his bodily sight rather than his intellectual vision, as beasts or fools are deprived thereof, as Augustine
                     says in De Civ. Dei (De Trin. xiv, 14).
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A5-p8"> If, however, intellectual spiritual pleasures be compared with sensible bodily pleasures, then, in themselves and absolutely
                     speaking, spiritual pleasures are greater. And this appears from the consideration of the three things needed for pleasure,
                     viz. the good which is brought into conjunction, that to which it is conjoined, and the conjunction itself. For spiritual
                     good is both greater and more beloved than bodily good: a sign whereof is that men abstain from even the
                     greatest bodily pleasures, rather than suffer loss of honor which is an intellectual good. Likewise the intellectual faculty
                     is much more noble and more knowing than the sensitive faculty. Also the conjunction is more intimate, more perfect and more
                     firm. More intimate, because the senses stop at the outward accidents of a thing, whereas the intellect penetrates to the
                     essence; for the object of the intellect is "what a thing is." More perfect, because the conjunction of the sensible to the
                     sense implies movement, which is an imperfect act: wherefore sensible pleasures are not perceived all at once, but some part
                     of them is passing away, while some other part is looked forward to as yet to be realized, as is manifest in pleasures of
                     the table and in sexual pleasures: whereas intelligible things are without movement: hence pleasures of this kind are realized
                     all at once. More firm; because the objects of bodily pleasure are corruptible, and soon pass away; whereas spiritual goods
                     are incorruptible.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A5-p9"> On the other hand, in relation to us, bodily pleasures are more vehement, for three reasons. First, because sensible things
                     are more known to us, than intelligible things. Secondly, because sensible pleasures, through being passions of the sensitive
                     appetite, are accompanied by some alteration in the body: whereas this does not occur in spiritual pleasures, save by reason
                     of a certain reaction of the superior appetite on the lower. Thirdly, because bodily pleasures are sought as
                     remedies for bodily defects or troubles, whence various griefs arise. Wherefore bodily pleasures, by reason of their succeeding
                     griefs of this kind, are felt the more, and consequently are welcomed more than spiritual pleasures, which have no contrary
                     griefs, as we shall state farther on (
                     <a id="FS_Q31_A5-p9.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q35_A5.html">Q[35], A[5]</a>).
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A5-p10">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> The reason why more seek bodily pleasures is because sensible goods are known better and more generally: and, again, because
                     men need pleasures as remedies for many kinds of sorrow and sadness: and since the majority cannot attain spiritual pleasures,
                     which are proper to the virtuous, hence it is that they turn aside to seek those of the body.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A5-p11">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> Bodily transmutation arises more from bodily pleasures, inasmuch as they are passions of the sensitive appetite.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A5-p12">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> Bodily pleasures are realized in the sensitive faculty which is governed by reason: wherefore they need to be tempered and
                     checked by reason. But spiritual pleasures are in the mind, which is itself the rule: wherefore they are in themselves both
                     sober and moderate.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A5-p13"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A5-p14"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q31_A4.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q31_A6.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q31_A6" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q31_A5.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q31_A7.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q31_A6-p0.1">Whether the pleasures of touch are greater than the pleasures afforded by the other senses?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A6-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A6-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that the pleasures of touch are not greater than the pleasures afforded by the other senses. Because the greatest
                     pleasure seems to be that without which all joy is at an end. But such is the pleasure afforded by the sight, according to
                     the words of
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q31_A6-p2.1" href="./asv.html#Tob.5.12" target="asv"> Tob. 5:12</a>: "What manner of joy shall be to me, who sit in darkness, and see not the light of heaven?" Therefore the pleasure afforded
                     by the sight is the greatest of sensible
                     pleasures.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A6-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, "every one finds treasure in what he loves," as the Philosopher says (Rhet. i, 11). But "of all the senses the sight
                     is loved most" [*Metaph. i, 1]. Therefore the greatest pleasure seems to be afforded by sight.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A6-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, the beginning of friendship which is for the sake of the pleasant is principally sight. But pleasure is the cause
                     of such friendship. Therefore the greatest pleasure seems to be afforded by sight.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A6-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> The Philosopher says (Ethic. iii, 10), that the greatest pleasures are those which are afforded by the touch.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A6-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> As stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q31_A6-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q25_A2.html">Q[25], A[2]</a>, ad 1;
                     <a id="FS_Q31_A6-p6.2" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q27_A4.html"> Q[27], A[4]</a>, ad 1), everything gives pleasure according as it is loved. Now, as stated in Metaph. i, 1, the senses are loved for two
                     reasons: for the purpose of knowledge, and on account of their usefulness. Wherefore the senses afford pleasure in both these
                     ways. But because it is proper to man to apprehend knowledge itself as something good, it follows that the former
                     pleasures of the senses, i.e. those which arise from knowledge, are proper to man: whereas pleasures of the senses, as loved
                     for their usefulness, are common to all animals.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A6-p7"> If therefore we speak of that sensible pleasure by which reason of knowledge, it is evident that the sight affords greater
                     pleasure than any other sense. On the other hand, if we speak of that sensible pleasure which is by reason of usefulness,
                     then the greatest pleasure is afforded by the touch. For the usefulness of sensible things is gauged by their relation to
                     the preservation of the animal's nature. Now the sensible objects of touch bear the closest relation to this
                     usefulness: for the touch takes cognizance of those things which are vital to an animal, namely, of things hot and cold and
                     the like. Wherefore in this respect, the pleasures of touch are greater as being more closely related to the end. For this
                     reason, too, other animals which do not experience sensible pleasure save by reason of usefulness, derive no pleasure from
                     the other senses except as subordinated to the sensible objects of the touch: "for dogs do not take delight in the smell of
                     hares, but in eating them; . . . nor does the lion feel pleasure in the lowing of an ox, but in devouring it" (Ethic. iii,
                     10).
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A6-p8"> Since then the pleasure afforded by touch is the greatest in respect of usefulness, and the pleasure afforded by sight the
                     greatest in respect of knowledge; if anyone wish to compare these two, he will find that the pleasure of touch is, absolutely
                     speaking, greater than the pleasure of sight, so far as the latter remains within the limits of sensible pleasure. Because
                     it is evident that in everything, that which is natural is most powerful: and it is to these pleasures of the
                     touch that the natural concupiscences, such as those of food, sexual union, and the like, are ordained. If, however, we consider
                     the pleasures of sight, inasmuch sight is the handmaid of the mind, then the pleasures of sight are greater, forasmuch as
                     intellectual pleasures are greater than sensible.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A6-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> Joy, as stated above 
                     <a id="FS_Q31_A6-p9.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q31_A3.html">(A[3])</a>, denotes pleasure of the soul; and this belongs principally to the sight. But natural pleasure belongs principally to the
                     touch.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A6-p10">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> The sight is loved most, "on account of knowledge, because it helps us to distinguish many things," as is stated in the same
                     passage (Metaph. i, 1).
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A6-p11">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> Pleasure causes carnal love in one way; the sight, in another. For pleasure, especially that which is afforded by the touch,
                     is the final cause of the friendship which is for the sake of the pleasant: whereas the sight is a cause like that from which
                     a movement has its beginning, inasmuch as the beholder on seeing the lovable object receives an impression of its image, which
                     entices him to love it and to seek its delight.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A6-p12"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A6-p13"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q31_A5.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q31_A7.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q31_A7" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q31_A6.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q31_A8.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q31_A7-p0.1">Whether any pleasure is not natural?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A7-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A7-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that no pleasure is not natural. For pleasure is to the emotions of the soul what repose is to bodies. But
                     the appetite of a natural body does not repose save in a connatural place. Neither, therefore, can the repose of the animal
                     appetite, which is pleasure, be elsewhere than in something connatural. Therefore no pleasure is non-natural.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A7-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, what is against nature is violent. But "whatever is violent causes grief" (Metaph. v, 5). Therefore nothing which
                     is unnatural can give pleasure.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A7-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, the fact of being established in one's own nature, if perceived, gives rise to pleasure, as is evident from the
                     Philosopher's definition quoted above 
                     <a id="FS_Q31_A7-p4.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q31_A1.html">(A[1])</a>. But it is natural to every thing to be established in its nature; because natural movement tends to a natural end. Therefore
                     every pleasure is natural.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A7-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> The Philosopher says (Ethic. vii, 5,6) that some things are pleasant "not from nature but from disease."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A7-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> We speak of that as being natural, which is in accord with nature, as stated in Phys. ii, 1. Now, in man, nature can be taken
                     in two ways. First, inasmuch as intellect and reason is the principal part of man's nature, since in respect thereof he has
                     his own specific nature. And in this sense, those pleasures may be called natural to man, which are derived from things pertaining
                     to man in respect of his reason: for instance, it is natural to man to take
                     pleasure in contemplating the truth and in doing works of virtue. Secondly, nature in man may be taken as contrasted with
                     reason, and as denoting that which is common to man and other animals, especially that part of man which does not obey reason.
                     And in this sense, that which pertains to the preservation of the body, either as regards the individual, as food, drink,
                     sleep, and the like, or as regards the species, as sexual intercourse, are said to afford man natural pleasure. Under each
                     kind
                     of pleasures, we find some that are "not natural" speaking absolutely, and yet "connatural" in some respect. For it happens
                     in an individual that some one of the natural principles of the species is corrupted, so that something which is contrary
                     to the specific nature, becomes accidentally natural to this individual: thus it is natural to this hot water to give heat.
                     Consequently it happens that something which is not natural to man, either in regard to reason, or in regard to the preservation
                     of the body, becomes connatural to this individual man, on account of there being some corruption of nature in him. And this
                     corruption may be either on the part of the body---from some ailment; thus to a man suffering from fever, sweet things seem
                     bitter, and vice versa---or from an evil temperament; thus some take pleasure in eating earth and coals and the like; or on
                     the part of the soul; thus from custom some take pleasure in cannibalism or in the unnatural intercourse of man and beast,
                     or
                     other such things, which are not in accord with human nature.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A7-p7"> This suffices for the answers to the objections.</p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A7-p8"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A7-p9"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q31_A6.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q31_A8.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q31_A8" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q31_A7.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q32.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q31_A8-p0.1">Whether one pleasure can be contrary to another?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A8-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A8-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that one pleasure cannot be contrary to another. Because the passions of the soul derive their species and
                     contrariety from their objects. Now the object of pleasure is the good. Since therefore good is not contrary to good, but
                     "good is contrary to evil, and evil to good," as stated in Praedic. viii; it seems that one pleasure is not contrary to another.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A8-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, to one thing there is one contrary, as is proved in Metaph. x, 4. But sadness is contrary to pleasure. Therefore
                     pleasure is not contrary to pleasure.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A8-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, if one pleasure is contrary to another, this is only on account of the contrariety of the things which give pleasure.
                     But this difference is material: whereas contrariety is a difference of form, as stated in Metaph. x, 4. Therefore there is
                     no contrariety between one pleasure and another.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A8-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> Things of the same genus that impede one another are contraries, as the Philosopher states (Phys. viii, 8). But some pleasures
                     impede one another, as stated in Ethic. x, 5. Therefore some pleasures are contrary to one another.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A8-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> Pleasure, in the emotions of the soul, is likened to repose in natural bodies, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q31_A8-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q23_A4.html">Q[23], A[4]</a>). Now one repose is said to be contrary to another when they are in contrary termini; thus, "repose in a high place is contrary
                     to repose in a low place" (Phys. v, 6). Wherefore it happens in the emotions of the soul that one pleasure is contrary to
                     another.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A8-p7">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> This saying of the Philosopher is to be understood of good and evil as applied to virtues and vices: because one vice may
                     be contrary to another vice, whereas no virtue can be contrary to another virtue. But in other things nothing prevents one
                     good from being contrary to another, such as hot and cold, of which the former is good in relation to fire, the latter, in
                     relation to water. And in this way one pleasure can be contrary to another. That this
                     is impossible with regard to the good of virtue, is due to the fact that virtue's good depends on fittingness in relation
                     to some one thing---i.e. the reason.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A8-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> Pleasure, in the emotions of the soul, is likened to natural repose in bodies: because its object is something suitable and
                     connatural, so to speak. But sadness is like a violent repose; because its object is disagreeable to the animal appetite,
                     just as the place of violent repose is disagreeable to the natural appetite. Now natural repose is contrary both to violent
                     repose of the same body, and to the natural repose of another, as stated in Phys. v,
                     6. Wherefore pleasure is contrary to both to another pleasure and to sadness.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A8-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> The things in which we take pleasure, since they are the objects of pleasure, cause not only a material, but also a formal
                     difference, if the formality of pleasurableness be different. Because difference in the formal object causes a specific difference
                     in acts and passions, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q31_A8-p9.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q23_A1.html">Q[23], AA[1]</a>,4;
                     <a id="FS_Q31_A8-p9.2" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q30_A2.html"> Q[30], A[2]</a>).
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A8-p10"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q31_A8-p11"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q31_A7.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q32.html"></a>
               </div>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q30_A4.html"></a>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q31_A1.html"></a>
            </div>
            <div id="FS_Q32" class="div3">
               <a href="summa.FS_Q31_A8.html"></a>
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               <h3 id="FS_Q32-p0.1">OF THE CAUSE OF PLEASURE (EIGHT ARTICLES)</h3>
               <p id="FS_Q32-p1"></p>
               <p id="FS_Q32-p2"> We must now consider the causes of pleasure: and under this head there are eight points of inquiry:</p>
               <p id="FS_Q32-p3"> (1) Whether operation is the proper cause of pleasure?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q32-p4"> (2) Whether movement is a cause of pleasure?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q32-p5"> (3) Whether hope and memory cause pleasure?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q32-p6"> (4) Whether sadness causes pleasure?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q32-p7"> (5) Whether the actions of others are a cause of pleasure to us?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q32-p8"> (6) Whether doing good to another is a cause of pleasure?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q32-p9"> (7) Whether likeness is a cause of pleasure?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q32-p10"> (8) Whether wonder is a cause of pleasure?</p>
               <div id="FS_Q32_A1" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q32.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q32_A2.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q32_A1-p0.1">Whether operation is the proper cause of pleasure?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A1-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A1-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that operation is not the proper and first cause of pleasure. For, as the Philosopher says (Rhet. i, 11), "pleasure
                     consists in a perception of the senses," since knowledge is requisite for pleasure, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q32_A1-p2.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q31_A1.html">Q[31], A[1]</a>). But the objects of operations are knowable before the operations themselves. Therefore operation is not the proper cause
                     of pleasure.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A1-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, pleasure consists especially in an end gained: since it is this that is chiefly desired. But the end is not always
                     an operation, but is sometimes the effect of the operation. Therefore operation is not the proper and direct cause of pleasure.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A1-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, leisure and rest consist in cessation from work: and they are objects of pleasure (Rhet. i, 11). Therefore operation
                     is not the proper cause of pleasure.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A1-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> The Philosopher says (Ethic. vii, 12,13; x, 4) that "pleasure is a connatural and uninterrupted operation."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A1-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> As stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q32_A1-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q31_A1.html">Q[31], A[1]</a>), two things are requisite for pleasure: namely, the attainment of the suitable good, and knowledge of this attainment. Now
                     each of these consists in a kind of operation: because actual knowledge is an operation; and the attainment of the suitable
                     good is by means of an operation. Moreover, the proper operation itself is a suitable good. Wherefore every pleasure must
                     needs be the result of some
                     operation.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A1-p7">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> The objects of operations are not pleasurable save inasmuch as they are united to us; either by knowledge alone, as when
                     we take pleasure in thinking of or looking at certain things; or in some other way in addition to knowledge; as when a man
                     takes pleasure in knowing that he has something good--riches, honor, or the like; which would not be pleasurable unless they
                     were apprehended as possessed. For as the Philosopher observes (Polit. ii, 2) "we take
                     great pleasure in looking upon a thing as our own, by reason of the natural love we have for ourselves." Now to have such
                     like things is nothing else but to use them or to be able to use them: and this is through some operation. Wherefore it is
                     evident that every pleasure is traced to some operation as its cause.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A1-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> Even when it is not an operation, but the effect of an operation, that is the end, this effect is pleasant in so far as possessed
                     or effected: and this implies use or operation.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A1-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> Operations are pleasant, in so far as they are proportionate and connatural to the agent. Now, since human power is finite,
                     operation is proportionate thereto according to a certain measure. Wherefore if it exceed that measure, it will be no longer
                     proportionate or pleasant, but, on the contrary, painful and irksome. And in this sense, leisure and play and other things
                     pertaining to repose, are pleasant, inasmuch as they banish sadness which results
                     from labor.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A1-p10"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A1-p11"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q32.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q32_A2.html"></a>
               </div>
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                  <a href="summa.FS_Q32_A1.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q32_A3.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q32_A2-p0.1">Whether movement is a cause of pleasure?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A2-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A2-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that movement is not a cause of pleasure. Because, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q32_A2-p2.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q31_A1.html">Q[31], A[1]</a>), the good which is obtained and is actually possessed, is the cause of pleasure: wherefore the Philosopher says (Ethic.
                     vii, 12) that pleasure is not compared with generation, but with the operation of a thing already in existence. Now that which
                     is being moved towards something has it not as yet; but, so to speak, is being generated in its
                     regard, forasmuch as generation or corruption are united to every movement, as stated in Phys. viii, 3. Therefore movement
                     is not a cause of pleasure.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A2-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, movement is the chief cause of toil and fatigue in our works. But operations through being toilsome and fatiguing
                     are not pleasant but disagreeable. Therefore movement is not a cause of pleasure.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A2-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, movement implies a certain innovation, which is the opposite of custom. But things "which we are accustomed to,
                     are pleasant," as the Philosopher says (Rhet. i, 11). Therefore movement is not a cause of pleasure.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A2-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> Augustine says (Confess. viii, 3): "What means this, O Lord my God, whereas Thou art everlasting joy to Thyself, and some
                     things around Thee evermore rejoice in Thee? What means this, that this portion of things ebbs and flows alternately displeased
                     and reconciled?" From these words we gather that man rejoices and takes pleasure in some kind of alterations: and therefore
                     movement seems to cause pleasure.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A2-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> Three things are requisite for pleasure; two, i.e. the one that is pleased and the pleasurable object conjoined to him; and
                     a third, which is knowledge of this conjunction: and in respect of these three, movement is pleasant, as the Philosopher says
                     (Ethic. vii, 14 and Rhetor. i, 11). For as far as we who feel pleasure are concerned, change is pleasant to us because our
                     nature is changeable: for which reason that which is suitable to us at one time is not
                     suitable at another; thus to warm himself at a fire is suitable to man in winter but not in summer. Again, on the part of
                     the pleasing good which is united to us, change is pleasant. Because the continued action of an agent increases its effect:
                     thus the longer a person remains near the fire, the more he is warmed and dried. Now the natural mode of being consists in
                     a certain measure; and therefore when the continued presence of a pleasant object exceeds the measure of one's natural mode
                     of
                     being, the removal of that object becomes pleasant. On the part of the knowledge itself (change becomes pleasant), because
                     man desires to know something whole and perfect: when therefore a thing cannot be apprehended all at once as a whole, change
                     in such a thing is pleasant, so that one part may pass and another succeed, and thus the whole be perceived. Hence Augustine
                     says (Confess. iv, 11): "Thou wouldst not have the syllables stay, but fly away, that others may come, and thou hear the
                     whole. And so whenever any one thing is made up of many, all of which do not exist together, all would please collectively
                     more than they do severally, if all could be perceived collectively."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A2-p7"> If therefore there be any thing, whose nature is unchangeable; the natural mode of whose being cannot be exceeded by the
                     continuation of any pleasing object; and which can behold the whole object of its delight at once---to such a one change will
                     afford no delight. And the more any pleasures approach to this, the more are they capable of being continual.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A2-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> Although the subject of movement has not yet perfectly that to which it is moved, nevertheless it is beginning to have something
                     thereof: and in this respect movement itself has something of pleasure. But it falls short of the perfection of pleasure;
                     because the more perfect pleasures regard things that are unchangeable. Moreover movement becomes the cause of pleasure, in
                     so far as thereby something which previously was unsuitable, becomes suitable or
                     ceases to be, as stated above.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A2-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> Movement causes toil and fatigue, when it exceeds our natural aptitude. It is not thus that it causes pleasure, but by removing
                     the obstacles to our natural aptitude.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A2-p10">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> What is customary becomes pleasant, in so far as it becomes natural: because custom is like a second nature. But the movement
                     which gives pleasure is not that which departs from custom, but rather that which prevents the corruption of the natural mode
                     of being, that might result from continued operation. And thus from the same cause of connaturalness, both custom and movement
                     become pleasant.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A2-p11"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A2-p12"></p>
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                  <a href="summa.FS_Q32_A3.html"></a>
               </div>
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                  <a href="summa.FS_Q32_A2.html"></a>
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                  <h4 id="FS_Q32_A3-p0.1">Whether hope and memory causes pleasure?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A3-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A3-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that memory and hope do not cause pleasure. Because pleasure is caused by present good, as Damascene says (De
                     Fide Orth. ii, 12). But hope and memory regard what is absent: since memory is of the past, and hope of the future. Therefore
                     memory and hope do not cause pleasure.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A3-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, the same thing is not the cause of contraries. But hope causes affliction, according to
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q32_A3-p3.1" href="./asv.html#Prov.13.12" target="asv"> Prov. 13:12</a>: "Hope that is deferred afflicteth the soul." Therefore hope does not cause pleasure.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A3-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, just as hope agrees with pleasure in regarding good, so also do desire and love. Therefore hope should not be assigned
                     as a cause of pleasure, any more than desire or love.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A3-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> It is written (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q32_A3-p5.1" href="./asv.html#Rom.12.12" target="asv">Rom. 12:12</a>): "Rejoicing in hope"; and (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q32_A3-p5.2" href="./asv.html#Ps.76.4" target="asv">Ps. 76:4</a>): "I remembered God, and was delighted."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A3-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> Pleasure is caused by the presence of suitable good, in so far as it is felt, or perceived in any way. Now a thing is present
                     to us in two ways. First, in knowledge---i.e. according as the thing known is in the knower by its likeness; secondly, in
                     reality---i.e. according as one thing is in real conjunction of any kind with another, either actually or potentially. And
                     since real conjunction is greater than conjunction by likeness, which is the conjunction of
                     knowledge; and again, since actual is greater than potential conjunction: therefore the greatest pleasure is that which arises
                     from sensation which requires the presence of the sensible object. The second place belongs to the pleasure of hope, wherein
                     there is pleasurable conjunction, not only in respect of apprehension, but also in respect of the faculty or power of obtaining
                     the pleasurable object. The third place belongs to the pleasure of memory, which has only the conjunction of
                     apprehension.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A3-p7">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> Hope and memory are indeed of things which, absolutely speaking, are absent: and yet those are, after a fashion, present,
                     i.e. either according to apprehension only; or according to apprehension and possibility, at least supposed, of attainment.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A3-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> Nothing prevents the same thing, in different ways, being the cause of contraries. And so hope, inasmuch as it implies a
                     present appraising of a future good, causes pleasure; whereas, inasmuch as it implies absence of that good, it causes affliction.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A3-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> Love and concupiscence also cause pleasure. For everything that is loved becomes pleasing to the lover, since love is a kind
                     of union or connaturalness of lover and beloved. In like manner every object of desire is pleasing to the one that desires,
                     since desire is chiefly a craving for pleasure. However hope, as implying a certainty of the real presence of the pleasing
                     good, that is not implied either by love or by concupiscence, is reckoned in
                     preference to them as causing pleasure; and also in preference to memory, which is of that which has already passed away.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A3-p10"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A3-p11"></p>
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                  <a href="summa.FS_Q32_A4.html"></a>
               </div>
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                  <a href="summa.FS_Q32_A3.html"></a>
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                  <h4 id="FS_Q32_A4-p0.1">Whether sadness causes pleasure?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A4-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A4-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that sadness does not cause pleasure. For nothing causes its own contrary. But sadness is contrary to pleasure.
                     Therefore it does not cause it.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A4-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, contraries have contrary effects. But pleasures, when called to mind, cause pleasure. Therefore sad things, when
                     remembered, cause sorrow and not pleasure.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A4-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, as sadness is to pleasure, so is hatred to love. But hatred does not cause love, but rather the other way about,
                     as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q32_A4-p4.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q29_A2.html">Q[29], A[2]</a>). Therefore sadness does not cause pleasure.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A4-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> It is written (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q32_A4-p5.1" href="./asv.html#Ps.41.4" target="asv">Ps. 41:4</a>): "My tears have been my bread day and night": where bread denotes the refreshment of pleasure. Therefore tears, which arise
                     from sadness, can give pleasure.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A4-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> Sadness may be considered in two ways: as existing actually, and as existing in the memory: and in both ways sadness can
                     cause pleasure. Because sadness, as actually existing, causes pleasure, inasmuch as it brings to mind that which is loved,
                     the absence of which causes sadness; and yet the mere thought of it gives pleasure. The recollection of sadness becomes a
                     cause of pleasure, on account of the deliverance which ensued: because absence of evil is looked
                     upon as something good; wherefore so far as a man thinks that he has been delivered from that which caused him sorrow and
                     pain, so much reason has he to rejoice. Hence Augustine says in De Civ. Dei xxii, 31 [*Gregory, Moral. iv.] that "oftentimes
                     in joy we call to mind sad things . . . and in the season of health we recall past pains without feeling pain . . . and in
                     proportion are the more filled with joy and gladness": and again (Confess. viii, 3) he says that "the more peril there was
                     in the
                     battle, so much the more joy will there be in the triumph."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A4-p7">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> Sometimes accidentally a thing is the cause of its contrary: thus "that which is cold sometimes causes heat," as stated in
                     Phys. viii, 1. In like manner sadness is the accidental cause of pleasure, in so far as it gives rise to the apprehension
                     of something pleasant.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A4-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> Sad things, called to mind, cause pleasure, not in so far as they are sad and contrary to pleasant things; but in so far
                     as man is delivered from them. In like manner the recollection of pleasant things, by reason of these being lost, may cause
                     sadness.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A4-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> Hatred also can be the accidental cause of love: i.e. so far as some love one another, inasmuch as they agree in hating one
                     and the same thing.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A4-p10"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A4-p11"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q32_A3.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q32_A5.html"></a>
               </div>
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                  <a href="summa.FS_Q32_A4.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q32_A6.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q32_A5-p0.1">Whether the actions of others are a cause of pleasure to us?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A5-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A5-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that the actions of others are not a cause of pleasure to us. Because the cause of pleasure is our own good
                     when conjoined to us. But the actions of others are not conjoined to us. Therefore they are not a cause of pleasure to us.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A5-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, the action is the agent's own good. If, therefore, the actions of others are a cause of pleasure to us, for the
                     same reason all goods belonging to others will be pleasing to us: which is evidently untrue.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A5-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, action is pleasant through proceeding from an innate habit; hence it is stated in Ethic. ii, 3 that "we must reckon
                     the pleasure which follows after action, as being the sign of a habit existing in us." But the actions of others do not proceed
                     from habits existing in us, but, sometimes, from habits existing in the agents. Therefore the actions of others are not pleasing
                     to us, but to the agents themselves.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A5-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> It is written in the second canonical epistle of John (verse 4): "I was exceeding glad that I found thy children walking
                     in truth."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A5-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> As stated above 
                     <a id="FS_Q32_A5-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q32_A1.html">(A[1];</a> Q[31], A[1]), two things are requisite for pleasure, namely, the attainment of one's proper good, and the knowledge of having
                     obtained it. Wherefore the action of another may cause pleasure to us in three ways. First, from the fact that we obtain some
                     good through the action of another. And in this way, the actions of those who do some good to us, are pleasing to us: since
                     it is pleasant to be benefited by
                     another. Secondly, from the fact that another's action makes us to know or appreciate our own good: and for this reason men
                     take pleasure in being praised or honored by others, because, to wit, they thus become aware of some good existing in themselves.
                     And since this appreciation receives greater weight from the testimony of good and wise men, hence men take greater pleasure
                     in being praised and honored by them. And because a flatterer appears to praise, therefore flattery is pleasing to some.
                     And as love is for something good, while admiration is for something great, so it is pleasant to be loved and admired by others,
                     inasmuch as a man thus becomes aware of his own goodness or greatness, through their giving pleasure to others. Thirdly, from
                     the fact that another's actions, if they be good, are reckoned as one's own good, by reason of the power of love, which makes
                     a man to regard his friend as one with himself. And on account of hatred, which makes one to reckon another's good as
                     being in opposition to oneself, the evil action of an enemy becomes an object of pleasure: whence it is written (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q32_A5-p6.2" href="./asv.html#iCor.13.6" target="asv">1 Cor. 13:6</a>) that charity "rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth with the truth."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A5-p7">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> Another's action may be conjoined to me, either by its effect, as in the first way, or by knowledge, as in the second way;
                     or by affection, as in the third way.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A5-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> This argument avails for the third mode, but not for the first two.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A5-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> Although the actions of another do not proceed from habits that are in me, yet they either produce in me something that gives
                     pleasure; or they make me appreciate or know a habit of mind; or they proceed from the habit of one who is united to me by
                     love.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A5-p10"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A5-p11"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q32_A4.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q32_A6.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q32_A6" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q32_A5.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q32_A7.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q32_A6-p0.1">Whether doing good to another is a cause of pleasure?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A6-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A6-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that doing good to another is not a cause of pleasure. Because pleasure is caused by one's obtaining one's
                     proper good, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q32_A6-p2.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q32_A1.html">AA[1]</a>,5; Q[31], A[1]). But doing good pertains not to the obtaining but to the spending of one's proper good. Therefore it seems
                     to be the cause of sadness rather than of pleasure.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A6-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, the Philosopher says (Ethic. iv, 1) that "illiberality is more connatural to man than prodigality." Now it is a
                     mark of prodigality to do good to others; while it is a mark of illiberality to desist from doing good. Since therefore everyone
                     takes pleasure in a connatural operation, as stated in Ethic. vii, 14 and x, 4, it seems that doing good to others is not
                     a cause of pleasure.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A6-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, contrary effects proceed from contrary causes. But man takes a natural pleasure in certain kinds of ill-doing, such
                     as overcoming, contradicting or scolding others, or, if he be angry, in punishing them, as the Philosopher says (Rhet. i,
                     11). Therefore doing good to others is a cause of sadness rather than pleasure.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A6-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> The Philosopher says (Polit. ii, 2) that "it is most pleasant to give presents or assistance to friends and strangers."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A6-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> Doing good to another may give pleasure in three ways. First, in consideration of the effect, which is the good conferred
                     on another. In this respect, inasmuch as through being united to others by love, we look upon their good as being our own,
                     we take pleasure in the good we do to others, especially to our friends, as in our own good. Secondly, in consideration of
                     the end; as when a man, from doing good to another, hopes to get some good for himself, either
                     from God or from man: for hope is a cause of pleasure. Thirdly, in consideration of the principle: and thus, doing good to
                     another, can give pleasure in respect of a threefold principle. One is the faculty of doing good: and in this regard, doing
                     good to another becomes pleasant, in so far as it arouses in man an imagination of abundant good existing in him, whereof
                     he is able to give others a share. Wherefore men take pleasure in their children, and in their own works, as being things
                     on which
                     they bestow a share of their own good. Another principle is man's habitual inclination to do good, by reason of which doing
                     good becomes connatural to him: for which reason the liberal man takes pleasure in giving to others. The third principle is
                     the motive: for instance when a man is moved by one whom he loves, to do good to someone: for whatever we do or suffer for
                     a friend is pleasant, because love is the principal cause of pleasure.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A6-p7">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> Spending gives pleasure as showing forth one's good. But in so far as it empties us of our own good it may be a cause of
                     sadness; for instance when it is excessive.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A6-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> Prodigality is an excessive spending, which is unnatural: wherefore prodigality is said to be contrary to nature.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A6-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> To overcome, to contradict, and to punish, give pleasure, not as tending to another's ill, but as pertaining to one's own
                     good, which man loves more than he hates another's ill. For it is naturally pleasant to overcome, inasmuch as it makes a man
                     to appreciate his own superiority. Wherefore all those games in which there is a striving for the mastery, and a possibility
                     of winning it, afford the greatest pleasure: and speaking generally all contests,
                     in so far as they admit hope of victory. To contradict and to scold can give pleasure in two ways. First, as making man imagine
                     himself to be wise and excellent; since it belongs to wise men and elders to reprove and to scold. Secondly, in so far as
                     by scolding and reproving, one does good to another: for this gives one pleasure, as stated above. It is pleasant to an angry
                     man to punish, in so far as he thinks himself to be removing an apparent slight, which seems to be due to a previous hurt:
                     for when a man is hurt by another, he seems to be slighted thereby; and therefore he wishes to be quit of this slight by paying
                     back the hurt. And thus it is clear that doing good to another may be of itself pleasant: whereas doing evil to another is
                     not pleasant, except in so far as it seems to affect one's own good.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A6-p10"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A6-p11"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q32_A5.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q32_A7.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q32_A7" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q32_A6.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q32_A8.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q32_A7-p0.1">Whether likeness is a cause of pleasure?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A7-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A7-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that likeness is not a cause of pleasure. Because ruling and presiding seem to imply a certain unlikeness.
                     But "it is natural to take pleasure in ruling and presiding," as stated in Rhetor. i, 11. Therefore unlikeness, rather than
                     likeness, is a cause of pleasure.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A7-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, nothing is more unlike pleasure than sorrow. But those who are burdened by sorrow are most inclined to seek pleasures,
                     as the Philosopher says (Ethic. vii, 14). Therefore unlikeness, rather than likeness, is a cause of pleasure.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A7-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, those who are satiated with certain delights, derive not pleasure but disgust from them; as when one is satiated
                     with food. Therefore likeness is not a cause of pleasure.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A7-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> Likeness is a cause of love, as above stated (
                     <a id="FS_Q32_A7-p5.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q27_A3.html">Q[27], A[3]</a>): and love is the cause of pleasure. Therefore likeness is a cause of pleasure.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A7-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> Likeness is a kind of unity; hence that which is like us, as being one with us, causes pleasure; just at it causes love,
                     as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q32_A7-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q27_A3.html">Q[27], A[3]</a>). And if that which is like us does not hurt our own good, but increase it, it is pleasurable simply; for instance one man
                     in respect of another, one youth in relation to another. But if it be hurtful to our own good, thus accidentally it causes
                     disgust or sadness, not as being like and
                     one with us, but as hurtful to that which is yet more one with us.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A7-p7"> Now it happens in two ways that something like is hurtful to our own good. First, by destroying the measure of our own good,
                     by a kind of excess; because good, especially bodily good, as health, is conditioned by a certain measure: wherefore superfluous
                     good or any bodily pleasure, causes disgust. Secondly, by being directly contrary to one's own good: thus a potter dislikes
                     other potters, not because they are potters, but because they deprive him of his own excellence or
                     profits, which he seeks as his own good.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A7-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> Since ruler and subject are in communion with one another, there is a certain likeness between them: but this likeness is
                     conditioned by a certain superiority, since ruling and presiding pertain to the excellence of a man's own good: because they
                     belong to men who are wise and better than others; the result being that they give man an idea of his own excellence. Another
                     reason is that by ruling and presiding, a man does good to others, which is
                     pleasant.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A7-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> That which gives pleasure to the sorrowful man, though it be unlike sorrow, bears some likeness to the man that is sorrowful:
                     because sorrows are contrary to his own good. Wherefore the sorrowful man seeks pleasure as making for his own good, in so
                     far as it is a remedy for its contrary. And this is why bodily pleasures, which are contrary to certain sorrows, are more
                     sought than intellectual pleasures, which have no contrary sorrow, as we shall state
                     later on (
                     <a id="FS_Q32_A7-p9.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q35_A5.html">Q[35], A[5]</a>). And this explains why all animals naturally desire pleasure: because animals ever work through sense and movement. For
                     this reason also young people are most inclined to seek pleasures; on account of the many changes to which they are subject,
                     while yet growing. Moreover this is why the melancholic has a strong desire for pleasures, in order to drive away sorrow:
                     because his "body is corroded by a base humor," as stated in Ethic. vii, 14.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A7-p10">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> Bodily goods are conditioned by a certain fixed measure: wherefore surfeit of such things destroys the proper good, and consequently
                     gives rise to disgust and sorrow, through being contrary to the proper good of man.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A7-p11"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A7-p12"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q32_A6.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q32_A8.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q32_A8" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q32_A7.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q33.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q32_A8-p0.1">Whether wonder is a cause of pleasure?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A8-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A8-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that wonder is not a cause of pleasure. Because wonder is the act of one who is ignorant of the nature of something,
                     as Damascene says. But knowledge, rather than ignorance, is a cause of pleasure. Therefore wonder is not a cause of pleasure.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A8-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, wonder is the beginning of wisdom, being as it were, the road to the search of truth, as stated in the beginning
                     of Metaph. i, 2. But "it is more pleasant to think of what we know, than to seek what we know not," as the Philosopher says
                     (Ethic. x, 7): since in the latter case we encounter difficulties and hindrances, in the former not; while pleasure arises
                     from an operation which is unhindered, as stated in Ethic. vii, 12,13. Therefore wonder hinders
                     rather than causes pleasure.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A8-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, everyone takes pleasure in what he is accustomed to: wherefore the actions of habits acquired by custom, are pleasant.
                     But "we wonder at what is unwonted," as Augustine says (Tract. xxiv in Joan.). Therefore wonder is contrary to the cause of
                     pleasure.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A8-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> The Philosopher says (Rhet. i, 11) that wonder is the cause of pleasure.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A8-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> It is pleasant to get what one desires, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q32_A8-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q23_A4.html">Q[23], A[4]</a>): and therefore the greater the desire for the thing loved, the greater the pleasure when it is attained: indeed the very
                     increase of desire brings with it an increase of pleasure, according as it gives rise to the hope of obtaining that which
                     is loved, since it was stated above (A[3], ad 3) that desire resulting from hope is a cause of pleasure. Now wonder is a
                     kind of desire for knowledge; a desire which comes to man when he sees an effect of which the cause either is unknown to him,
                     or surpasses his knowledge or faculty of understanding. Consequently wonder is a cause of pleasure, in so far as it includes
                     a hope of getting the knowledge which one desires to have. For this reason whatever is wonderful is pleasing, for instance
                     things that are scarce. Also, representations of things, even of those which are not pleasant in themselves, give rise to
                     pleasure; for the soul rejoices in comparing one thing with another, because comparison of one thing with another is the proper
                     and connatural act of the reason, as the Philosopher says (Poet. iv). This again is why "it is more delightful to be delivered
                     from great danger, because it is something wonderful," as stated in Rhetor. i, 11.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A8-p7">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> Wonder gives pleasure, not because it implies ignorance, but in so far as it includes the desire of learning the cause, and
                     in so far as the wonderer learns something new, i.e. that the cause is other than he had thought it to be. [*According to
                     another reading:---that he is other than he thought himself to be.]
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A8-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> Pleasure includes two things; rest in the good, and perception of this rest. As to the former therefore, since it is more
                     perfect to contemplate the known truth, than to seek for the unknown, the contemplation of what we know, is in itself more
                     pleasing than the research of what we do not know. Nevertheless, as to the second, it happens that research is sometimes more
                     pleasing accidentally, in so far as it proceeds from a greater desire: for greater
                     desire is awakened when we are conscious of our ignorance. This is why man takes the greatest pleasure in finding or learning
                     things for the first time.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A8-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> It is pleasant to do what we are wont to do, inasmuch as this is connatural to us, as it were. And yet things that are of
                     rare occurrence can be pleasant, either as regards knowledge, from the fact that we desire to know something about them, in
                     so far as they are wonderful; or as regards action, from the fact that "the mind is more inclined by desire to act intensely
                     in things that are new," as stated in Ethic. x, 4, since more perfect operation
                     causes more perfect pleasure.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A8-p10"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q32_A8-p11"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q32_A7.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q33.html"></a>
               </div>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q31_A8.html"></a>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q32_A1.html"></a>
            </div>
            <div id="FS_Q33" class="div3">
               <a href="summa.FS_Q32_A8.html"></a>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q33_A1.html"></a>
               <h3 id="FS_Q33-p0.1">OF THE EFFECTS OF PLEASURE (FOUR ARTICLES)</h3>
               <p id="FS_Q33-p1"></p>
               <p id="FS_Q33-p2"> We must now consider the effects of pleasure; and under this head there are four points of inquiry:</p>
               <p id="FS_Q33-p3"> (1) Whether expansion is an effect of pleasure?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q33-p4"> (2) Whether pleasure causes thirst or desire for itself?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q33-p5"> (3) Whether pleasure hinders the use of reason?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q33-p6"> (4) Whether pleasure perfects operation?</p>
               <div id="FS_Q33_A1" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q33.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q33_A2.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q33_A1-p0.1">Whether expansion is an effect of pleasure?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q33_A1-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q33_A1-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that expansion is not an effect of pleasure. For expansion seems to pertain more to love, according to the
                     Apostle (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q33_A1-p2.1" href="./asv.html#iiCor.6.11" target="asv">2 Cor. 6:11</a>): "Our heart is enlarged." Wherefore it is written (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q33_A1-p2.2" href="./asv.html#Ps.118.96" target="asv">Ps. 118:96</a>) concerning the precept of charity: "Thy commandment is exceeding broad." But pleasure is a distinct passion from love. Therefore
                     expansion is not an effect of pleasure.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q33_A1-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, when a thing expands it is enabled to receive more. But receiving pertains to desire, which is for something not
                     yet possessed. Therefore expansion seems to belong to desire rather than to pleasure.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q33_A1-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, contraction is contrary to expansion. But contraction seems to belong to pleasure, for the hand closes on that which
                     we wish to grasp firmly: and such is the affection of appetite in regard to that which pleases it. Therefore expansion does
                     not pertain to pleasure.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q33_A1-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> In order to express joy, it is written (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q33_A1-p5.1" href="./asv.html#Isa.60.5" target="asv">Is. 60:5</a>): "Thou shall see and abound, thy heart shall wonder and be enlarged." Moreover pleasure is called by the name of "laetitia"
                     as being derived from "dilatatio" [expansion], as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q33_A1-p5.2" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q31_A3.html">Q[31], A[3]</a>, ad 3).
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q33_A1-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> Breadth [latitudo] is a dimension of bodily magnitude: hence it is not applied to the emotions of the soul, save metaphorically.
                     Now expansion denotes a kind of movement towards breadth; and it belongs to pleasure in respect of the two things requisite
                     for pleasure. One of these is on the part of the apprehensive power, which is cognizant of the conjunction with some suitable
                     good. As a result of this apprehension, man perceives that he has attained a
                     certain perfection, which is a magnitude of the spiritual order: and in this respect man's mind is said to be magnified or
                     expanded by pleasure. The other requisite for pleasure is on the part of the appetitive power, which acquiesces in the pleasurable
                     object, and rests therein, offering, as it were, to enfold it within itself. And thus man's affection is expanded by pleasure,
                     as though it surrendered itself to hold within itself the object of its pleasure.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q33_A1-p7">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> In metaphorical expressions nothing hinders one and the same thing from being attributed to different things according to
                     different likenesses. And in this way expansion pertains to love by reason of a certain spreading out, in so far as the affection
                     of the lover spreads out to others, so as to care, not only for his own interests, but also for what concerns others. On the
                     other hand expansion pertains to pleasure, in so far as a thing becomes more
                     ample in itself so as to become more capacious.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q33_A1-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> Desire includes a certain expansion arising from the imagination of the thing desired; but this expansion increases at the
                     presence of the pleasurable object: because the mind surrenders itself more to that object when it is already taking pleasure
                     in it, than when it desires it before possessing it; since pleasure is the end of desire.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q33_A1-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> He that takes pleasure in a thing holds it fast, by clinging to it with all his might: but he opens his heart to it that
                     he may enjoy it perfectly.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q33_A1-p10"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q33_A1-p11"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q33.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q33_A2.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q33_A2" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q33_A1.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q33_A3.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q33_A2-p0.1">Whether pleasure causes thirst or desire for itself?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q33_A2-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q33_A2-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that pleasure does not cause desire for itself. Because all movement ceases when repose is reached. But pleasure
                     is, as it were, a certain repose of the movement of desire, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q33_A2-p2.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q23_A4.html">Q[23], A[4]</a>;
                     <a id="FS_Q33_A2-p2.2" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q25_A2.html"> Q[25], A[2]</a>). Therefore the movement of desire ceases when pleasure is reached. Therefore pleasure does not cause desire.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q33_A2-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, a thing does not cause its contrary. But pleasure is, in a way, contrary to desire, on the part of the object: since
                     desire regards a good which is not yet possessed, whereas pleasure regards the good that is possessed. Therefore pleasure
                     does not cause desire for itself.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q33_A2-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, distaste is incompatible with desire. But pleasure often causes distaste. Therefore it does not cause desire.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q33_A2-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> Our Lord said (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q33_A2-p5.1" href="./asv.html#John.4.13" target="asv">Jn. 4:13</a>): "Whosoever drinketh of this water, shall thirst again": where, according to Augustine (Tract. xv in Joan.), water denotes
                     pleasures of the body.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q33_A2-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> Pleasure can be considered in two ways; first, as existing in reality; secondly, as existing in the memory. Again thirst,
                     or desire, can be taken in two ways; first, properly, as denoting a craving for something not possessed; secondly, in general,
                     as excluding distaste.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q33_A2-p7"> Considered as existing in reality, pleasure does not of itself cause thirst or desire for itself, but only accidentally;
                     provided we take thirst or desire as denoting a craving for some thing not possessed: because pleasure is an emotion of the
                     appetite in respect of something actually present. But it may happen that what is actually present is not perfectly possessed:
                     and this may be on the part of the thing possessed, or on the part of the possessor. On the part of the thing
                     possessed, this happens through the thing possessed not being a simultaneous whole; wherefore one obtains possession of it
                     successively, and while taking pleasure in what one has, one desires to possess the remainder: thus if a man is pleased with
                     the first part of a verse, he desires to hear the second part, as Augustine says (Confess. iv, 11). In this way nearly all
                     bodily pleasures cause thirst for themselves, until they are fully realized, because pleasures of this kind arise from some
                     movement: as is evident in pleasures of the table. On the part of the possessor, this happens when a man possesses a thing
                     which is perfect in itself, yet does not possess it perfectly, but obtains possession of it little by little. Thus in this
                     life, a faint perception of Divine knowledge affords us delight, and delight sets up a thirst or desire for perfect knowledge;
                     in which sense we may understand the words of
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q33_A2-p7.1" href="./asv.html#Sir.24.29" target="asv"> Ecclus. 24:29</a>: "They that drink me shall yet thirst."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q33_A2-p8"> On the other hand, if by thirst or desire we understand the mere intensity of the emotion, that excludes distaste, thus more
                     than all others spiritual pleasures cause thirst or desire for themselves. Because bodily pleasures become distasteful by
                     reason of their causing an excess in the natural mode of being, when they are increased or even when they are protracted;
                     as is evident in the case of pleasures of the table. This is why, when a man arrives at the point of perfection in
                     bodily pleasures, he wearies of them, and sometimes desires another kind. Spiritual pleasures, on the contrary, do not exceed
                     the natural mode of being, but perfect nature. Hence when their point of perfection is reached, then do they afford the greatest
                     delight: except, perchance, accidentally, in so far as the work of contemplation is accompanied by some operation of the bodily
                     powers, which tire from protracted activity. And in this sense also we may understand those words of
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q33_A2-p8.1" href="./asv.html#Sir.24.29" target="asv">
                        Ecclus. 24:29
                     </a>: "They that drink me shall yet thirst": for, even of the angels, who know God perfectly, and delight in Him, it is written
                     (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q33_A2-p8.2" href="./asv.html#iPet.1.12" target="asv">1 Pet. 1:12</a>) that they "desire to look at Him."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q33_A2-p9"> Lastly, if we consider pleasure, not as existing in reality, but as existing in the memory, thus it has of itself a natural
                     tendency to cause thirst and desire for itself: when, to wit, man returns to that disposition, in which he was when he experienced
                     the pleasure that is past. But if he be changed from that disposition, the memory of that pleasure does not give him pleasure,
                     but distaste: for instance, the memory of food in respect of a man who has eaten to repletion.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q33_A2-p10">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> When pleasure is perfect, then it includes complete rest; and the movement of desire, tending to what was not possessed,
                     ceases. But when it is imperfect, then the desire, tending to what was not possessed, does not cease altogether.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q33_A2-p11">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> That which is possessed imperfectly, is possessed in one respect, and in another respect is not possessed. Consequently it
                     may be the object of desire and pleasure at the same time.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q33_A2-p12">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> Pleasures cause distaste in one way, desire in another, as stated above.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q33_A2-p13"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q33_A2-p14"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q33_A1.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q33_A3.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q33_A3" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q33_A2.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q33_A4.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q33_A3-p0.1">Whether pleasure hinders the use of reason?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q33_A3-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q33_A3-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that pleasure does not hinder the use of reason. Because repose facilitates very much the due use of reason:
                     wherefore the Philosopher says (Phys. vii, 3) that "while we sit and rest, the soul is inclined to knowledge and prudence";
                     and it is written (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q33_A3-p2.1" href="./asv.html#Wis.8.16" target="asv">Wis. 8:16</a>): "When I go into my house, I shall repose myself with her," i.e. wisdom. But pleasure is a kind of repose. Therefore it
                     helps rather than hinders the use of
                     reason.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q33_A3-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, things which are not in the same subject though they be contraries, do not hinder one another. But pleasure is in
                     the appetitive faculty, while the use of reason is in the apprehensive power. Therefore pleasure does not hinder the use of
                     reason.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q33_A3-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, that which is hindered by another, seems to be moved, as it were, thereby. But the use of an apprehensive power
                     moves pleasure rather than is moved by it: because it is the cause of pleasure. Therefore pleasure does not hinder the use
                     of reason.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q33_A3-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> The Philosopher says (Ethic. vi, 5), that "pleasure destroys the estimate of prudence."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q33_A3-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> As is stated in Ethic. x, 5, "appropriate pleasures increase activity . . . whereas pleasures arising from other sources
                     are impediments to activity." Accordingly there is a certain pleasure that is taken in the very act of reason, as when one
                     takes pleasure in contemplating or in reasoning: and such pleasure does not hinder the act of reason, but helps it; because
                     we are more attentive in doing that which gives us pleasure, and attention fosters
                     activity.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q33_A3-p7"> On the other hand bodily pleasures hinder the use of reason in three ways. First, by distracting the reason. Because, as
                     we have just observed, we attend much to that which pleases us. Now when the attention is firmly fixed on one thing, it is
                     either weakened in respect of other things, or it is entirely withdrawn from them; and thus if the bodily pleasure be great,
                     either it entirely hinders the use of reason, by concentrating the mind's attention on itself; or else it hinders
                     it considerably. Secondly, by being contrary to reason. Because some pleasures, especially those that are in excess, are contrary
                     to the order of reason: and in this sense the Philosopher says that "bodily pleasures destroy the estimate of prudence, but
                     not the speculative estimate," to which they are not opposed, "for instance that the three angles of a triangle are together
                     equal to two right angles." In the first sense, however, they hinder both estimates. Thirdly, by fettering the reason:
                     in so far as bodily pleasure is followed by a certain alteration in the body, greater even than in the other passions, in
                     proportion as the appetite is more vehemently affected towards a present than towards an absent thing. Now such bodily disturbances
                     hinder the use of reason; as may be seen in the case of drunkards, in whom the use of reason is fettered or hindered.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q33_A3-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> Bodily pleasure implies indeed repose of the appetite in the object of pleasure; which repose is sometimes contrary to reason;
                     but on the part of the body it always implies alteration. And in respect of both points, it hinders the use of reason.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q33_A3-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> The powers of the appetite and of apprehension are indeed distinct parts, but belonging to the one soul. Consequently when
                     the soul is very intent on the action of one part, it is hindered from attending to a contrary act of the other part.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q33_A3-p10">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> The use of reason requires the due use of the imagination and of the other sensitive powers, which are exercised through
                     a bodily organ. Consequently alteration in the body hinders the use of reason, because it hinders the act of the imagination
                     and of the other sensitive powers.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q33_A3-p11"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q33_A3-p12"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q33_A2.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q33_A4.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q33_A4" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q33_A3.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q34.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q33_A4-p0.1">Whether pleasure perfects operation?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q33_A4-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q33_A4-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that pleasure does not perfect operation. For every human operation depends on the use of reason. But pleasure
                     hinders the use of reason, as stated above 
                     <a id="FS_Q33_A4-p2.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q33_A3.html">(A[3])</a>. Therefore pleasure does not perfect, but weakens human operation.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q33_A4-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, nothing perfects itself or its cause. But pleasure is an operation (Ethic. vii, 12; x, 4), i.e. either in its essence
                     or in its cause. Therefore pleasure does not perfect operation.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q33_A4-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, if pleasure perfects operation, it does so either as end, or as form, or as agent. But not as end; because operation
                     is not sought for the sake of pleasure, but rather the reverse, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q33_A4-p4.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q4_A2.html">Q[4], A[2]</a>): nor as agent, because rather is it the operation that causes pleasure: nor again as form, because, according to the Philosopher
                     (Ethic. x, 4), "pleasure does not perfect operation, as a habit does." Therefore pleasure
                     does not perfect operation.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q33_A4-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> The Philosopher says (Ethic. x, 4) that "pleasure perfects operation."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q33_A4-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> Pleasure perfects operation in two ways. First, as an end: not indeed according as an end is that on "account of which a
                     thing is"; but according as every good which is added to a thing and completes it, can be called its end. And in this sense
                     the Philosopher says (Ethic. x, 4) that "pleasure perfects operation . . . as some end added to it": that is to say, inasmuch
                     as to this good, which is operation, there is added another good, which is pleasure,
                     denoting the repose of the appetite in a good that is presupposed. Secondly, as agent; not indeed directly, for the Philosopher
                     says (Ethic. x, 4) that "pleasure perfects operation, not as a physician makes a man healthy, but as health does": but it
                     does so indirectly; inasmuch as the agent, through taking pleasure in his action, is more eagerly intent on it, and carries
                     it out with greater care. And in this sense it is said in Ethic. x, 5 that "pleasures increase their appropriate activities,
                     and hinder those that are not appropriate."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q33_A4-p7">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> It is not every pleasure that hinders the act of reason, but only bodily pleasure; for this arises, not from the act of reason,
                     but from the act of the concupiscible faculty, which act is intensified by pleasure. On the contrary, pleasure that arises
                     from the act of reason, strengthens the use of reason.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q33_A4-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> As stated in Phys. ii, 3 two things may be causes of one another, if one be the efficient, the other the final cause. And
                     in this way, operation is the efficient cause of pleasure, while pleasure perfects operation by way of final cause, as stated
                     above.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q33_A4-p9"> The Reply to the Third Objection is evident for what has been said.</p>
                  <p id="FS_Q33_A4-p10"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q33_A4-p11"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q33_A3.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q34.html"></a>
               </div>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q32_A8.html"></a>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q33_A1.html"></a>
            </div>
            <div id="FS_Q34" class="div3">
               <a href="summa.FS_Q33_A4.html"></a>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q34_A1.html"></a>
               <h3 id="FS_Q34-p0.1">OF THE GOODNESS AND MALICE OF PLEASURES (FOUR ARTICLES)</h3>
               <p id="FS_Q34-p1"></p>
               <p id="FS_Q34-p2"> We must now consider the goodness and malice of pleasures: under which head there are four points of inquiry:</p>
               <p id="FS_Q34-p3"> (1) Whether every pleasure is evil?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q34-p4"> (2) If not, whether every pleasure is good?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q34-p5"> (3) Whether any pleasure is the greatest good?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q34-p6"> (4) Whether pleasure is the measure or rule by which to judge of moral good and evil?</p>
               <div id="FS_Q34_A1" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q34.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q34_A2.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q34_A1-p0.1">Whether every pleasure is evil?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q34_A1-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q34_A1-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that every pleasure is evil. For that which destroys prudence and hinders the use of reason, seems to be evil
                     in itself: since man's good is to be "in accord with reason," as Dionysius says (Div. Nom. iv). But pleasure destroys prudence
                     and hinders the use of reason; and so much the more, as the pleasure is greater: wherefore "in sexual pleasures," which are
                     the greatest of all, "it is impossible to understand anything," as stated in Ethic. vii,
                     11. Moreover, Jerome says in his commentary on Matthew [*Origen, Hom. vi in Num.] that "at the time of conjugal intercourse,
                     the presence of the Holy Ghost is not vouchsafed, even if it be a prophet that fulfils the conjugal duty." Therefore pleasure
                     is evil in itself; and consequently every pleasure is evil.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q34_A1-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, that which the virtuous man shuns, and the man lacking in virtue seeks, seems to be evil in itself, and should be
                     avoided; because, as stated in Ethic. x, 5 "the virtuous man is a kind of measure and rule of human actions"; and the Apostle
                     says (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q34_A1-p3.1" href="./asv.html#iCor.2.15" target="asv">1 Cor. 2:15</a>): "The spiritual man judgeth all things." But children and dumb animals, in whom there is no virtue, seek pleasure: whereas
                     the man who is master of himself does not. Therefore
                     pleasures are evil in themselves and should be avoided.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q34_A1-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, "virtue and art are concerned about the difficult and the good" (Ethic. ii, 3). But no art is ordained to pleasure.
                     Therefore pleasure is not something good.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q34_A1-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> It is written (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q34_A1-p5.1" href="./asv.html#Ps.36.4" target="asv">Ps. 36:4</a>): "Delight in the Lord." Since, therefore, Divine authority leads to no evil, it seems that not every pleasure is evil.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q34_A1-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> As stated in Ethic. x, 2,[3] some have maintained that all pleasure is evil. The reason seems to have been that they took
                     account only of sensible and bodily pleasures which are more manifest; since, also in other respects, the ancient philosophers
                     did not discriminate between the intelligible and the sensible, nor between intellect and sense (De Anima iii, 3). And they
                     held that all bodily pleasures should be reckoned as bad, and thus that man, being prone
                     to immoderate pleasures, arrives at the mean of virtue by abstaining from pleasure. But they were wrong in holding this opinion.
                     Because, since none can live without some sensible and bodily pleasure, if they who teach that all pleasures are evil, are
                     found in the act of taking pleasure; men will be more inclined to pleasure by following the example of their works instead
                     of listening to the doctrine of their words: since, in human actions and passions, wherein experience is of great weight,
                     example moves more than words.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q34_A1-p7"> We must therefore say that some pleasures are good, and that some are evil. For pleasure is a repose of the appetitive power
                     in some loved good, and resulting from some operation; wherefore we assign a twofold reason for this assertion. The first
                     is in respect of the good in which a man reposes with pleasure. For good and evil in the moral order depend on agreement or
                     disagreement with reason, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q34_A1-p7.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q18_A5.html">Q[18], A[5]</a>): just as in the order of
                     nature, a thing is said to be natural, if it agrees with nature, and unnatural, if it disagrees. Accordingly, just as in the
                     natural order there is a certain natural repose, whereby a thing rests in that which agrees with its nature, for instance,
                     when a heavy body rests down below; and again an unnatural repose, whereby a thing rests in that which disagrees with its
                     nature, as when a heavy body rests up aloft: so, in the moral order, there is a good pleasure, whereby the higher or lower
                     appetite rests in that which is in accord with reason; and an evil pleasure, whereby the appetite rests in that which is discordant
                     from reason and the law of God.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q34_A1-p8"> The second reason can be found by considering the actions, some of which are good, some evil. Now pleasures which are conjoined
                     to actions are more akin to those actions, than desires, which precede them in point of time. Wherefore, since the desires
                     of good actions are good, and of evil actions, evil; much more are the pleasures of good actions good, and those of evil actions
                     evil.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q34_A1-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> As stated above (Q[33], A[3]), it is not the pleasures which result from an act of reason, that hinder the reason or destroy
                     prudence, but extraneous pleasures, such as the pleasures of the body. These indeed hinder the use of reason, as stated above
                     (Q[33], A[3]), either by contrariety of the appetite that rests in something repugnant to reason, which makes the pleasure
                     morally bad; or by fettering the reason: thus in conjugal intercourse, though the
                     pleasure be in accord with reason, yet it hinders the use of reason, on account of the accompanying bodily change. But in
                     this case the pleasure is not morally evil; as neither is sleep, whereby the reason is fettered, morally evil, if it be taken
                     according to reason: for reason itself demands that the use of reason be interrupted at times. We must add, however, that
                     although this fettering of the reason through the pleasure of conjugal intercourse has no moral malice, since it is neither
                     a
                     mortal nor a venial sin; yet it proceeds from a kind of moral malice, namely, from the sin of our first parent; because, as
                     stated in the 
                     <a id="FS_Q34_A1-p9.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FP_Q98_A2.html">FP, Q[98], A[2]</a> the case was different in the state of innocence.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q34_A1-p10">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> The temperate man does not shun all pleasures, but those that are immoderate, and contrary to reason. The fact that children
                     and dumb animals seek pleasures, does not prove that all pleasures are evil: because they have from God their natural appetite,
                     which is moved to that which is naturally suitable to them.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q34_A1-p11">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> Art is not concerned with all kinds of good, but with the making of external things, as we shall state further on (
                     <a id="FS_Q34_A1-p11.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q57_A3.html">Q[57], A[3]</a>). But actions and passions, which are within us, are more the concern of prudence and virtue than of art. Nevertheless there
                     is an art of making pleasure, namely, "the art of cookery and the art of making arguments," as stated in Ethic. vii, 12.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q34_A1-p12"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q34_A1-p13"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q34.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q34_A2.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q34_A2" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q34_A1.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q34_A3.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q34_A2-p0.1">Whether every pleasure is good?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q34_A2-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q34_A2-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that every pleasure is good. Because as stated in the 
                     <a id="FS_Q34_A2-p2.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FP_Q5_A6.html">FP, Q[5], A[6]</a> there are three kinds of good: the virtuous, the useful, and the pleasant. But everything virtuous is good; and in like manner
                     everything useful is good. Therefore also every pleasure is good.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q34_A2-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, that which is not sought for the sake of something else, is good in itself, as stated in Ethic. i, 6,7. But pleasure
                     is not sought for the sake of something else; for it seems absurd to ask anyone why he seeks to be pleased. Therefore pleasure
                     is good in itself. Now that which is predicated to a thing considered in itself, is predicated thereof universally. Therefore
                     every pleasure is good.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q34_A2-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, that which is desired by all, seems to be good of itself: because good is "what all things seek," as stated in Ethic.
                     i, 1. But everyone seeks some kind of pleasure, even children and dumb animals. Therefore pleasure is good in itself: and
                     consequently all pleasure is good.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q34_A2-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> It is written (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q34_A2-p5.1" href="./asv.html#Prov.2.14" target="asv">Prov. 2:14</a>): "Who are glad when they have done evil, and rejoice in most wicked things."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q34_A2-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> While some of the Stoics maintained that all pleasures are evil, the Epicureans held that pleasure is good in itself, and
                     that consequently all pleasures are good. They seem to have thus erred through not discriminating between that which is good
                     simply, and that which is good in respect of a particular individual. That which is good simply, is good in itself. Now that
                     which is not good in itself, may be good in respect of some individual in two ways. In one
                     way, because it is suitable to him by reason of a disposition in which he is now, which disposition, however, is not natural:
                     thus it is sometimes good for a leper to eat things that are poisonous, which are not suitable simply to the human temperament.
                     In another way, through something unsuitable being esteemed suitable. And since pleasure is the repose of the appetite in
                     some good, if the appetite reposes in that which is good simply, the pleasure will be pleasure simply, and good simply. But
                     if a man's appetite repose in that which is good, not simply, but in respect of that particular man, then his pleasure will
                     not be pleasure simply, but a pleasure to him; neither will it be good simply, but in a certain respect, or an apparent good.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q34_A2-p7">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> The virtuous and the useful depend on accordance with reason, and consequently nothing is virtuous or useful, without being
                     good. But the pleasant depends on agreement with the appetite, which tends sometimes to that which is discordant from reason.
                     Consequently not every object of pleasure is good in the moral order which depends on the order of reason.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q34_A2-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> The reason why pleasure is not sought for the sake of something else is because it is repose in the end. Now the end may
                     be either good or evil; although nothing can be an end except in so far as it is good in respect of such and such a man: and
                     so too with regard to pleasure.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q34_A2-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> All things seek pleasure in the same way as they seek good: since pleasure is the repose of the appetite in good. But, just
                     as it happens that not every good which is desired, is of itself and verily good; so not every pleasure is of itself and verily
                     good.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q34_A2-p10"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q34_A2-p11"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q34_A1.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q34_A3.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q34_A3" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q34_A2.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q34_A4.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q34_A3-p0.1">Whether any pleasure is the greatest good?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q34_A3-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q34_A3-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that no pleasure is the greatest good. Because nothing generated is the greatest good: since generation cannot
                     be the last end. But pleasure is a consequence of generation: for the fact that a thing takes pleasure is due to its being
                     established in its own nature, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q34_A3-p2.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q31_A1.html">Q[31], A[1]</a>). Therefore no pleasure is the greatest good.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q34_A3-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, that which is the greatest good cannot be made better by addition. But pleasure is made better by addition; since
                     pleasure together with virtue is better than pleasure without virtue. Therefore pleasure is not the greatest good.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q34_A3-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, that which is the greatest good is universally good, as being good of itself: since that which is such of itself
                     is prior to and greater than that which is such accidentally. But pleasure is not universally good, as stated above 
                     <a id="FS_Q34_A3-p4.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q34_A2.html">(A[2])</a>. Therefore pleasure is not the greatest good.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q34_A3-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> Happiness is the greatest good: since it is the end of man's life. But Happiness is not without pleasure: for it is written
                     (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q34_A3-p5.1" href="./asv.html#Ps.15.11" target="asv">Ps. 15:11</a>): "Thou shalt fill me with joy with Thy countenance; at Thy right hand are delights even to the end."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q34_A3-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> Plato held neither with the Stoics, who asserted that all pleasures are evil, nor with the Epicureans, who maintained that
                     all pleasures are good; but he said that some are good, and some evil; yet, so that no pleasure be the sovereign or greatest
                     good. But, judging from his arguments, he fails in two points. First, because, from observing that sensible and bodily pleasure
                     consists in a certain movement and "becoming," as is evident in satiety from eating
                     and the like; he concluded that all pleasure arises from some "becoming" and movement: and from this, since "becoming" and
                     movement are the acts of something imperfect, it would follow that pleasure is not of the nature of ultimate perfection. But
                     this is seen to be evidently false as regards intellectual pleasures: because one takes pleasure, not only in the "becoming"
                     of knowledge, for instance, when one learns or wonders, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q34_A3-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q32_A8.html">Q[32], A[8]</a>, ad 2); but also
                     in the act of contemplation, by making use of knowledge already acquired.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q34_A3-p7"> Secondly, because by greatest good he understood that which is the supreme good simply, i.e. the good as existing apart from,
                     and unparticipated by, all else, in which sense God is the Supreme Good; whereas we are speaking of the greatest good in human
                     things. Now the greatest good of everything is its last end. And the end, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q34_A3-p7.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q1_A8.html">Q[1], A[8]</a>;
                     <a id="FS_Q34_A3-p7.2" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q2_A7.html"> Q[2], A[7]</a>) is twofold; namely, the thing itself, and the use of that thing;
                     thus the miser's end is either money or the possession of money. Accordingly, man's last end may be said to be either God
                     Who is the Supreme Good simply; or the enjoyment of God, which implies a certain pleasure in the last end. And in this sense
                     a certain pleasure of man may be said to be the greatest among human goods.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q34_A3-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> Not every pleasure arises from a "becoming"; for some pleasures result from perfect operations, as stated above. Accordingly
                     nothing prevents some pleasure being the greatest good, although every pleasure is not such.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q34_A3-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> This argument is true of the greatest good simply, by participation of which all things are good; wherefore no addition can
                     make it better: whereas in regard to other goods, it is universally true that any good becomes better by the addition of another
                     good. Moreover it might be said that pleasure is not something extraneous to the operation of virtue, but that it accompanies
                     it, as stated in Ethic. i, 8.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q34_A3-p10">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> That pleasure is the greatest good is due not to the mere fact that it is pleasure, but to the fact that it is perfect repose
                     in the perfect good. Hence it does not follow that every pleasure is supremely good, or even good at all. Thus a certain science
                     is supremely good, but not every science is.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q34_A3-p11"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q34_A3-p12"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q34_A2.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q34_A4.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q34_A4" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q34_A3.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q35.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q34_A4-p0.1">Whether pleasure is the measure or rule by which to judge of moral good or evil?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q34_A4-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q34_A4-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that pleasure is not the measure or rule of moral good and evil. Because "that which is first in a genus is
                     the measure of all the rest" (Metaph. x, 1). But pleasure is not the first thing in the moral genus, for it is preceded by
                     love and desire. Therefore it is not the rule of goodness and malice in moral matters.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q34_A4-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, a measure or rule should be uniform; hence that movement which is the most uniform, is the measure and rule of all
                     movements (Metaph. x, 1). But pleasures are various and multiform: since some of them are good, and some evil. Therefore pleasure
                     is not the measure and rule of morals.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q34_A4-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, judgment of the effect from its cause is more certain than judgment of cause from effect. Now goodness or malice
                     of operation is the cause of goodness or malice of pleasure: because "those pleasures are good which result from good operations,
                     and those are evil which arise from evil operations," as stated in Ethic. x, 5. Therefore pleasures are not the rule and measure
                     of moral goodness and malice.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q34_A4-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> Augustine, commenting on
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q34_A4-p5.1" href="./asv.html#Ps.7.10" target="asv"> Ps. 7:10 </a>"The searcher of hearts and reins is God," says: "The end of care and thought is the pleasure which each one aims at achieving."
                     And the Philosopher says (Ethic. vii, 11) that "pleasure is the architect," i.e. the principal, "end [*St. Thomas took "finis"
                     as being the nominative, whereas it is the genitive---{tou telous}; and the Greek reads "He" (i.e. the political philosopher),
                     "is the architect of
                     the end."], in regard to which, we say absolutely that this is evil, and that, good."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q34_A4-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> Moral goodness or malice depends chiefly on the will, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q34_A4-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q20_A1.html">Q[20], A[1]</a>); and it is chiefly from the end that we discern whether the will is good or evil. Now the end is taken to be that in which
                     the will reposes: and the repose of the will and of every appetite in the good is pleasure. And therefore man is reckoned
                     to be good or bad chiefly according to the pleasure of the human will; since that man is good and virtuous,
                     who takes pleasure in the works of virtue; and that man evil, who takes pleasure in evil works.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q34_A4-p7"> On the other hand, pleasures of the sensitive appetite are not the rule of moral goodness and malice; since food is universally
                     pleasurable to the sensitive appetite both of good and of evil men. But the will of the good man takes pleasure in them in
                     accordance with reason, to which the will of the evil man gives no heed.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q34_A4-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> Love and desire precede pleasure in the order of generation. But pleasure precedes them in the order of the end, which serves
                     a principle in actions; and it is by the principle, which is the rule and measure of such matters, that we form our judgment.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q34_A4-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> All pleasures are uniform in the point of their being the repose of the appetite in something good: and in this respect pleasure
                     can be a rule or measure. Because that man is good, whose will rests in the true good: and that man evil, whose will rests
                     in evil.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q34_A4-p10">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> Since pleasure perfects operation as its end, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q34_A4-p10.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q33_A4.html">Q[33], A[4]</a>); an operation cannot be perfectly good, unless there be also pleasure in good: because the goodness of a thing depends on
                     its end. And thus, in a way, the goodness of the pleasure is the cause of goodness in the operation.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q34_A4-p11"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q34_A4-p12"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q34_A3.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q35.html"></a>
               </div>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q33_A4.html"></a>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q34_A1.html"></a>
            </div>
            <div id="FS_Q35" class="div3">
               <a href="summa.FS_Q34_A4.html"></a>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q35_A1.html"></a>
               <h3 id="FS_Q35-p0.1">OF PAIN OR SORROW, IN ITSELF (EIGHT ARTICLES)</h3>
               <p id="FS_Q35-p1"></p>
               <p id="FS_Q35-p2"> We have now to consider pain and sorrow: concerning which we must consider: (1) Sorrow or pain in itself; (2) Its cause;
                  (3) Its effects; (4) Its remedies; (5) Its goodness or malice.
               </p>
               <p id="FS_Q35-p3"> Under the first head there are eight points of inquiry:</p>
               <p id="FS_Q35-p4"> (1) Whether pain is a passion of the soul?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q35-p5"> (2) Whether sorrow is the same as pain?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q35-p6"> (3) Whether sorrow or pain is contrary in pleasure?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q35-p7"> (4) Whether all sorrow is contrary to all pleasure?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q35-p8"> (5) Whether there is a sorrow contrary to the pleasure of contemplation?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q35-p9"> (6) Whether sorrow is to be shunned more than pleasure is to be sought?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q35-p10"> (7) Whether exterior pain is greater than interior?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q35-p11"> (8) Of the species of sorrow.</p>
               <div id="FS_Q35_A1" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q35.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q35_A2.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q35_A1-p0.1">Whether pain is a passion of the soul?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A1-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A1-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that pain is not a passion of the soul. Because no passion of the soul is in the body. But pain can be in the
                     body, since Augustine says (De Vera Relig. xii), that "bodily pain is a sudden corruption of the well-being of that thing
                     which the soul, by making evil use of it, made subject to corruption." Therefore pain is not a passion of the soul.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A1-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, every passion of the soul belongs to the appetitive faculty. But pain does not belong to the appetitive, but rather
                     to the apprehensive part: for Augustine says (De Nat. Boni xx) that "bodily pain is caused by the sense resisting a more powerful
                     body." Therefore pain is not a passion of the soul.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A1-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, every passion of the soul belongs to the animal appetite. But pain does not belong to the animal appetite, but rather
                     to the natural appetite; for Augustine says (Gen. ad lit. viii, 14): "Had not some good remained in nature, we should feel
                     no pain in being punished by the loss of good." Therefore pain is not a passion of the soul.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A1-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> Augustine (De Civ. Dei xiv, 8) reckons pain among the passions of the soul; quoting Virgil (Aeneid, vi, 733): "hence wild
                     desires and grovelling fears/And human laughter, human tears." [Translation: Conington.]
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A1-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> Just as two things are requisite for pleasure; namely, conjunction with good and perception of this conjunction; so also
                     two things are requisite for pain: namely, conjunction with some evil (which is in so far evil as it deprives one of some
                     good), and perception of this conjunction. Now whatever is conjoined, if it have not the aspect of good or evil in regard
                     to the being to which it is conjoined, cannot cause pleasure or pain. Whence it is evident that
                     something under the aspect of good or evil is the object of the pleasure or pain. But good and evil, as such, are objects
                     of the appetite. Consequently it is clear that pleasure and pain belong to the appetite.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A1-p7"> Now every appetitive movement or inclination consequent to apprehension, belongs to the intellective or sensitive appetite:
                     since the inclination of the natural appetite is not consequent to an apprehension of the subject of that appetite, but to
                     the apprehension of another, as stated in the 
                     <a id="FS_Q35_A1-p7.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FP_Q103_A1.html">FP, Q[103], AA[1]</a>,3. Since then pleasure and pain presuppose some sense or apprehension in the same subject, it is evident that pain, like
                     pleasure, is in the
                     intellective or sensitive appetite.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A1-p8"> Again every movement of the sensitive appetite is called a passion, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q35_A1-p8.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q22_A1.html">Q[22], AA[1]</a>,3): and especially those which tend to some defect. Consequently pain, according as it is in the sensitive appetite, is most
                     properly called a passion of the soul: just as bodily ailments are properly called passions of the body. Hence Augustine (De
                     Civ. Dei xiv, 7,[8] [*Quoting Cicero]) reckons pain especially as being a kind of ailment.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A1-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> We speak of the body, because the cause of pain is in the body: as when we suffer something hurtful to the body. But the
                     movement of pain is always in the soul; since "the body cannot feel pain unless the soul feel it," as Augustine says (Super
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q35_A1-p9.1" href="./asv.html#Ps.87.4" target="asv"> Psalm 87:4</a>).
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A1-p10">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> We speak of pain of the senses, not as though it were an act of the sensitive power; but because the senses are required
                     for bodily pain, in the same way as for bodily pleasure.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A1-p11">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> Pain at the loss of good proves the goodness of the nature, not because pain is an act of the natural appetite, but because
                     nature desires something as good, the removal of which being perceived, there results the passion of pain in the sensitive
                     appetite.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A1-p12"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A1-p13"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q35.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q35_A2.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q35_A2" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q35_A1.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q35_A3.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q35_A2-p0.1">Whether sorrow is the same as pain?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A2-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A2-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that sorrow is not pain. For Augustine says (De Civ. Dei xiv, 7) that "pain is used to express bodily suffering."
                     But sorrow is used more in reference to the soul. Therefore sorrow is not pain.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A2-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, pain is only in respect of present evil. But sorrow can refer to both past and future evil: thus repentance is sorrow
                     for the past, and anxiety for the future. Therefore sorrow is quite different from pain.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A2-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, pain seems not to follow save from the sense of touch. But sorrow can arise from all the senses. Therefore sorrow
                     is not pain, and extends to more objects.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A2-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> The Apostle says (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q35_A2-p5.1" href="./asv.html#Rom.9.2" target="asv">Rom. 9:2</a>): "I have great sorrow [Douay: 'sadness'] and continual pain [Douay: 'sorrow'] in my heart," thus denoting the same thing
                     by sorrow and pain.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A2-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> Pleasure and pain can arise from a twofold apprehension, namely, from the apprehension of an exterior sense; and from the
                     interior apprehension of the intellect or of the imagination. Now the interior apprehension extends to more objects than the
                     exterior apprehension: because whatever things come under the exterior apprehension, come under the interior, but not conversely.
                     Consequently that pleasure alone which is caused by an interior apprehension is
                     called joy, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q35_A2-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q31_A3.html">Q[31], A[3]</a>): and in like manner that pain alone which is caused by an interior apprehension, is called sorrow. And just as that pleasure
                     which is caused by an exterior apprehension, is called pleasure but not joy; so too that pain which is caused by an exterior
                     apprehension, is called pain indeed but not sorrow. Accordingly sorrow is a species of pain, as joy is a species of pleasure.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A2-p7">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> Augustine is speaking there of the use of the word: because "pain" is more generally used in reference to bodily pains, which
                     are better known, than in reference to spiritual pains.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A2-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> External sense perceives only what is present; but the interior cognitive power can perceive the present, past and future.
                     Consequently sorrow can regard present, past and future: whereas bodily pain, which follows apprehension of the external sense,
                     can only regard something present.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A2-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> The sensibles of touch are painful, not only in so far as they are disproportionate to the apprehensive power, but also in
                     so far as they are contrary to nature: whereas the objects of the other senses can indeed be disproportionate to the apprehensive
                     power, but they are not contrary to nature, save as they are subordinate to the sensibles of touch. Consequently man alone,
                     who is a perfectly cognizant animal, takes pleasure in the objects of the
                     other senses for their own sake; whereas other animals take no pleasure in them save as referable to the sensibles of touch,
                     as stated in Ethic. iii, 10. Accordingly, in referring to the objects of the other senses, we do not speak of pain in so far
                     as it is contrary to natural pleasure: but rather of sorrow, which is contrary to joy. So then if pain be taken as denoting
                     bodily pain, which is its more usual meaning, then it is contrasted with sorrow, according to the distinction of interior
                     and
                     exterior apprehension; although, on the part of the objects, pleasure extends further than does bodily pain. But if pain be
                     taken in a wide sense, then it is the genus of sorrow, as stated above.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A2-p10"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A2-p11"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q35_A1.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q35_A3.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q35_A3" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q35_A2.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q35_A4.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q35_A3-p0.1">Whether sorrow or pain is contrary to pleasure?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A3-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A3-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that sorrow is not contrary to pleasure. For one of two contraries is not the cause of the other. But sorrow
                     can be the cause of pleasure; for it is written (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q35_A3-p2.1" href="./asv.html#Matt.5.5" target="asv">Mat. 5:5</a>): "Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted." Therefore they are not contrary to one another.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A3-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, one contrary does not denominate the other. But to some, pain or sorrow gives pleasure: thus Augustine says (Confess.
                     iii, 2) that in stage-plays sorrow itself gives pleasure: and (Confess. iv, 5) that "weeping is a bitter thing, and yet it
                     sometimes pleases us." Therefore pain is not contrary to pleasure.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A3-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, one contrary is not the matter of the other; because contraries cannot co-exist together. But sorrow can be the
                     matter of pleasure; for Augustine says (De Poenit. xiii): "The penitent should ever sorrow, and rejoice in his sorrow." The
                     Philosopher too says (Ethic. ix, 4) that, on the other hand, "the evil man feels pain at having been pleased." Therefore pleasure
                     and pain are not contrary to one another.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A3-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> Augustine says (De Civ. Dei xiv, 6) that "joy is the volition of consent to the things we wish: and that sorrow is the volition
                     of dissent from the things we do not wish." But consent and dissent are contraries. Therefore pleasure and sorrow are contrary
                     to one another.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A3-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> As the Philosopher says (Metaph. x, 4), contrariety is a difference in respect of a form. Now the form or species of a passion
                     or movement is taken from the object or term. Consequently, since the objects of pleasure and sorrow or pain, viz. present
                     good and present evil, are contrary to one another, it follows that pain and pleasure are contrary to one another.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A3-p7">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> Nothing hinders one contrary causing the other accidentally: and thus sorrow can be the cause of pleasure. In one way, in
                     so far as from sorrow at the absence of something, or at the presence of its contrary, one seeks the more eagerly for something
                     pleasant: thus a thirsty man seeks more eagerly the pleasure of a drink, as a remedy for the pain he suffers. In another way,
                     in so far as, from a strong desire for a certain pleasure, one does not shrink
                     from undergoing pain, so as to obtain that pleasure. In each of these ways, the sorrows of the present life lead us to the
                     comfort of the future life. Because by the mere fact that man mourns for his sins, or for the delay of glory, he merits the
                     consolation of eternity. In like manner a man merits it when he shrinks not from hardships and straits in order to obtain
                     it.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A3-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> Pain itself can be pleasurable accidentally in so far as it is accompanied by wonder, as in stage-plays; or in so far as
                     it recalls a beloved object to one's memory, and makes one feel one's love for the thing, whose absence gives us pain. Consequently,
                     since love is pleasant, both pain and whatever else results from love, forasmuch as they remind us of our love, are pleasant.
                     And, for this reason, we derive pleasure even from pains depicted on the
                     stage: in so far as, in witnessing them, we perceive ourselves to conceive a certain love for those who are there represented.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A3-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> The will and the reason reflect on their own acts, inasmuch as the acts themselves of the will and reason are considered
                     under the aspect of good or evil. In this way sorrow can be the matter of pleasure, or vice versa, not essentially but accidentally:
                     that is, in so far as either of them is considered under the aspect of good or evil.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A3-p10"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A3-p11"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q35_A2.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q35_A4.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q35_A4" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q35_A3.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q35_A5.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q35_A4-p0.1">Whether all sorrow is contrary to all pleasure?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A4-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A4-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that all sorrow is contrary to all pleasure. Because, just as whiteness and blackness are contrary species
                     of color, so pleasure and sorrow are contrary species of the soul's passions. But whiteness and blackness are universally
                     contrary to one another. Therefore pleasure and sorrow are so too.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A4-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, remedies are made of things contrary (to the evil). But every pleasure is a remedy for all manner of sorrow, as
                     the Philosopher declares (Ethic. vii, 14). Therefore every pleasure is contrary to every sorrow.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A4-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, contraries are hindrances to one another. But every sorrow hinders any kind of pleasure: as is evident from Ethic.
                     x, 5. Therefore every sorrow is contrary to every pleasure.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A4-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> The same thing is not the cause of contraries. But joy for one thing, and sorrow for the opposite thing, proceed from the
                     same habit: thus from charity it happens that we "rejoice with them that rejoice," and "weep with them that weep" (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q35_A4-p5.1" href="./asv.html#Rom.12.15" target="asv">Rom. 12:15</a>). Therefore not every sorrow is contrary to every pleasure.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A4-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> As stated in Metaph. x, 4 contrariety is a difference in respect of a form. Now a form may be generic or specific. Consequently
                     things may be contraries in respect of a generic form, as virtue and vice; or in respect of a specific form, as justice and
                     injustice.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A4-p7"> Now we must observe that some things are specified by absolute forms, e.g. substances and qualities; whereas other things
                     are specified in relation to something extrinsic, e.g. passions and movements, which derive their species from their terms
                     or objects. Accordingly in those things that are specified by absolute forms, it happens that species contained under contrary
                     genera are not contrary as to their specific nature: but it does not happen for them to have any affinity or
                     fittingness to one another. For intemperance and justice, which are in the contrary genera of virtue and vice, are not contrary
                     to one another in respect of their specific nature; and yet they have no affinity or fittingness to one another. On the other
                     hand, in those things that are specified in relation to something extrinsic, it happens that species belonging to contrary
                     genera, are not only not contrary to one another, but also that they have a certain mutual affinity or fittingness. The
                     reason of this is that where there is one same relation to two contraries, there is contrariety; e.g. to approach to a white
                     thing, and to approach to a black thing, are contraries; whereas contrary relations to contrary things, implies a certain
                     likeness, e.g. to recede from something white, and to approach to something black. This is most evident in the case of contradiction,
                     which is the principle of opposition: because opposition consists in affirming and denying the same thing, e.g.
                     "white" and "non-white"; while there is fittingness and likeness in the affirmation of one contrary and the denial of the
                     other, as, if I were to say "black" and "not white."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A4-p8"> Now sorrow and pleasure, being passions, are specified by their objects. According to their respective genera, they are contrary
                     to one another: since one is a kind of "pursuit," the other a kind of "avoidance," which "are to the appetite, what affirmation
                     and denial are to the intellect" (Ethic. vi, 2). Consequently sorrow and pleasure in respect of the same object, are specifically
                     contrary to one another: whereas sorrow and pleasure in respect of objects that are not contrary
                     but disparate, are not specifically contrary to one another, but are also disparate; for instance, sorrow at the death of
                     a friend, and pleasure in contemplation. If, however, those diverse objects be contrary to one another, then pleasure and
                     sorrow are not only specifically contrary, but they also have a certain mutual fittingness and affinity: for instance to rejoice
                     in good and to sorrow for evil.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A4-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> Whiteness and blackness do not take their species from their relationship to something extrinsic, as pleasure and sorrow
                     do: wherefore the comparison does not hold.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A4-p10">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> Genus is taken from matter, as is stated in Metaph. viii, 2; and in accidents the subject takes the place of matter. Now
                     it has been said above that pleasure and sorrow are generically contrary to one another. Consequently in every sorrow the
                     subject has a disposition contrary to the disposition of the subject of pleasure: because in every pleasure the appetite is
                     viewed as accepting what it possesses, and in every sorrow, as avoiding it. And
                     therefore on the part of the subject every pleasure is a remedy for any kind of sorrow, and every sorrow is a hindrance of
                     all manner of pleasure: but chiefly when pleasure is opposed to sorrow specifically.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A4-p11"> Wherefore the Reply to the Third Objection is evident. Or we may say that, although not every sorrow is specifically contrary
                     to every pleasure, yet they are contrary to one another in regard to their effects: since one has the effect of strengthening
                     the animal nature, while the other results in a kind of discomfort.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A4-p12"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A4-p13"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q35_A3.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q35_A5.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q35_A5" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q35_A4.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q35_A6.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q35_A5-p0.1">Whether there is any sorrow contrary to the pleasure of contemplation?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A5-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A5-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that there is a sorrow that is contrary to the pleasure of contemplation. For the Apostle says (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q35_A5-p2.1" href="./asv.html#iiCor.7.10" target="asv">2 Cor. 7:10</a>): "The sorrow that is according to God, worketh penance steadfast unto salvation." Now to look at God belongs to the higher
                     reason, whose act is to give itself to contemplation, according to Augustine (De Trin. xii, 3,4). Therefore there is a sorrow
                     contrary to the pleasure of contemplation.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A5-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, contrary things have contrary effects. If therefore the contemplation of one contrary gives pleasure, the other
                     contrary will give sorrow: and so there will be a sorrow contrary to the pleasure of contemplation.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A5-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, as the object of pleasure is good, so the object of sorrow is evil. But contemplation can be an evil: since the
                     Philosopher says (Metaph. xii, 9) that "it is unfitting to think of certain things." Therefore sorrow can be contrary to the
                     pleasure of contemplation.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A5-p5">
                     <b>Objection 4:</b> Further, any work, so far as it is unhindered, can be a cause of pleasure, as stated in Ethic. vii, 12,13; x, 4. But the
                     work of contemplation can be hindered in many ways, either so as to destroy it altogether, or as to make it difficult. Therefore
                     in contemplation there can be a sorrow contrary to the pleasure.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A5-p6">
                     <b>Objection 5:</b> Further, affliction of the flesh is a cause of sorrow. But, as it is written (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q35_A5-p6.1" href="./asv.html#Eccl.12.12" target="asv">Eccles. 12:12</a>) "much study is an affliction of the flesh." Therefore contemplation admits of sorrow contrary to its pleasure.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A5-p7">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> It is written (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q35_A5-p7.1" href="./asv.html#Wis.8.16" target="asv">Wis. 8:16</a>): "Her," i.e. wisdom's, "conversation hath no bitterness nor her company any tediousness; but joy and gladness." Now the
                     conversation and company of wisdom are found in contemplation. Therefore there is no sorrow contrary to the pleasure of contemplation.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A5-p8">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> The pleasure of contemplation can be understood in two ways. In one way, so that contemplation is the cause, but not the
                     object of pleasure: and then pleasure is taken not in contemplating but in the thing contemplated. Now it is possible to contemplate
                     something harmful and sorrowful, just as to contemplate something suitable and pleasant. Consequently if the pleasure of contemplation
                     be taken in this way, nothing hinders some sorrow being contrary to the
                     pleasure of contemplation.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A5-p9"> In another way, the pleasure of contemplation is understood, so that contemplation is its object and cause; as when one takes
                     pleasure in the very act of contemplating. And thus, according to Gregory of Nyssa [*Nemesius, De Nat. Hom. xviii.], "no sorrow
                     is contrary to that pleasure which is about contemplation": and the Philosopher says the same (Topic. i, 13; Ethic. x, 3).
                     This, however, is to be understood as being the case properly speaking. The reason is because sorrow is of
                     itself contrary to pleasure in a contrary object: thus pleasure in heat is contrary to sorrow caused by cold. But there is
                     no contrary to the object of contemplation: because contraries, as apprehended by the mind, are not contrary, but one is the
                     means of knowing the other. Wherefore, properly speaking, there cannot be a sorrow contrary to the pleasure of contemplation.
                     Nor has it any sorrow annexed to it, as bodily pleasures have, which are like remedies against certain annoyances; thus a
                     man
                     takes pleasure in drinking through being troubled with thirst, but when the thirst is quite driven out, the pleasure of drinking
                     ceases also. Because the pleasure of contemplation is not caused by one's being quit of an annoyance, but by the fact that
                     contemplation is pleasant in itself: for pleasure is not a "becoming" but a perfect operation, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q35_A5-p9.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q31_A1.html">Q[31], A[1]</a>).
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A5-p10"> Accidentally, however, sorrow is mingled with the pleasure of contemplation; and this in two ways: first, on the part of
                     an organ, secondly, through some impediment in the apprehension. On the part of an organ, sorrow or pain is mingled with apprehension,
                     directly, as regards the apprehensive powers of the sensitive part, which have a bodily organ; either from the sensible object
                     disagreeing with the normal condition of the organ, as the taste of something bitter, and the smell
                     of something foul; or from the sensible object, though agreeable, being so continuous in its action on the sense, that it
                     exceeds the normal condition of the organ, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q35_A5-p10.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q33_A2.html">Q[33], A[2]</a>), the result being that an apprehension which at first was pleasant becomes tedious. But these two things cannot occur directly
                     in the contemplation of the mind; because the mind has no corporeal organ: wherefore it was said in the authority quoted above
                     that intellectual
                     contemplation has neither "bitterness," nor "tediousness." Since, however, the human mind, in contemplation, makes use of
                     the sensitive powers of apprehension, to whose acts weariness is incidental; therefore some affliction or pain is indirectly
                     mingled with contemplation.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A5-p11"> Nevertheless, in neither of these ways, is the pain thus accidentally mingled with contemplation, contrary to the pleasure
                     thereof. Because pain caused by a hindrance to contemplation, is not contrary to the pleasure of contemplation, but rather
                     is in affinity and in harmony with it, as is evident from what has been said above 
                     <a id="FS_Q35_A5-p11.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q35_A4.html">(A[4])</a>: while pain or sorrow caused by bodily weariness, does not belong to the same genus, wherefore it is altogether disparate.
                     Accordingly it is evident that no sorrow is contrary to pleasure taken in the very act of contemplation; nor is any sorrow
                     connected with it save accidentally.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A5-p12">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> The "sorrow which is according to God," is not caused by the very act of intellectual contemplation, but by something which
                     the mind contemplates: viz. by sin, which the mind considers as contrary to the love of God.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A5-p13">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> Things which are contrary according to nature are not contrary according as they exist in the mind: for things that are contrary
                     in reality are not contrary in the order of thought; indeed rather is one contrary the reason for knowing the other. Hence
                     one and the same science considers contraries.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A5-p14">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> Contemplation, in itself, is never evil, since it is nothing else than the consideration of truth, which is the good of the
                     intellect: it can, however, be evil accidentally, i.e. in so far as the contemplation of a less noble object hinders the contemplation
                     of a more noble object; or on the part of the object contemplated, to which the appetite is inordinately attached.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A5-p15">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 4:</b> Sorrow caused by a hindrance to contemplation, is not contrary to the pleasure of contemplation, but is in harmony with it,
                     as stated above.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A5-p16">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 5:</b> Affliction of the flesh affects contemplation accidentally and indirectly, as stated above.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A5-p17"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A5-p18"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q35_A4.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q35_A6.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q35_A6" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q35_A5.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q35_A7.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q35_A6-p0.1">Whether sorrow is to be shunned more than pleasure is to be sought?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A6-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A6-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that sorrow is to be shunned more than pleasure is to be sought. For Augustine says (QQ. 83, qu. 63): "There
                     is nobody that does not shun sorrow more than he seeks pleasure." Now that which all agree in doing, seems to be natural.
                     Therefore it is natural and right for sorrow to be shunned more than pleasure is sought.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A6-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, the action of a contrary conduces to rapidity and intensity of movement: for "hot water freezes quicker and harder,"
                     as the Philosopher says (Meteor. i, 12). But the shunning of sorrow is due to the contrariety of the cause of sorrow; whereas
                     the desire for pleasure does not arise from any contrariety, but rather from the suitableness of the pleasant object. Therefore
                     sorrow is shunned more eagerly than pleasure is sought.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A6-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, the stronger the passion which a man resists according to reason, the more worthy is he of praise, and the more
                     virtuous: since "virtue is concerned with the difficult and the good" (Ethic. ii, 3). But the brave man who resists the movement
                     of shunning sorrow, is more virtuous than the temperate man, who resists the movement of desire for pleasure: since the Philosopher
                     says (Rhet. ii, 4) that "the brave and the just are chiefly praised." Therefore
                     the movement of shunning sorrow is more eager than the movement of seeking pleasure.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A6-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> Good is stronger than evil, as Dionysius declares (Div. Nom. iv). But pleasure is desirable for the sake of the good which
                     is its object; whereas the shunning of sorrow is on account of evil. Therefore the desire for pleasure is more eager than
                     the shunning of sorrow.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A6-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> The desire for pleasure is of itself more eager than the shunning of sorrow. The reason of this is that the cause of pleasure
                     is a suitable good; while the cause of pain or sorrow is an unsuitable evil. Now it happens that a certain good is suitable
                     without any repugnance at all: but it is not possible for any evil to be so unsuitable as not to be suitable in some way.
                     Wherefore pleasure can be entire and perfect: whereas sorrow is always partial. Therefore
                     desire for pleasure is naturally greater than the shunning of sorrow. Another reason is because the good, which is the object
                     of pleasure, is sought for its own sake: whereas the evil, which is the object of sorrow, is to be shunned as being a privation
                     of good: and that which is by reason of itself is stronger than that which is by reason of something else. Moreover we find
                     a confirmation of this in natural movements. For every natural movement is more intense in the end, when a thing
                     approaches the term that is suitable to its nature, than at the beginning, when it leaves the term that is unsuitable to its
                     nature: as though nature were more eager in tending to what is suitable to it, than in shunning what is unsuitable. Therefore
                     the inclination of the appetitive power is, of itself, more eager in tending to pleasure than in shunning sorrow.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A6-p7"> But it happens accidentally that a man shuns sorrow more eagerly than he seeks pleasure: and this for three reasons. First,
                     on the part of the apprehension. Because, as Augustine says (De Trin. x, 12), "love is felt more keenly, when we lack that
                     which we love." Now from the lack of what we love, sorrow results, which is caused either by the loss of some loved good,
                     or by the presence of some contrary evil. But pleasure suffers no lack of the good loved, for it rests in
                     possession of it. Since then love is the cause of pleasure and sorrow, the latter is more the shunned, according as love is
                     the more keenly felt on account of that which is contrary to it. Secondly, on the part of the cause of sorrow or pain, which
                     cause is repugnant to a good that is more loved than the good in which we take pleasure. For we love the natural well-being
                     of the body more than the pleasure of eating: and consequently we would leave the pleasure of eating and the like, from fear
                     of the pain occasioned by blows or other such causes, which are contrary to the well-being of the body. Thirdly, on the part
                     of the effect: namely, in so far as sorrow hinders not only one pleasure, but all.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A6-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> The saying of Augustine that "sorrow is shunned more than pleasure is sought" is true accidentally but not simply. And this
                     is clear from what he says after: "Since we see that the most savage animals are deterred from the greatest pleasures by fear
                     of pain," which pain is contrary to life which is loved above all.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A6-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> It is not the same with movement from within and movement from without. For movement from within tends to what is suitable
                     more than it recedes from that which is unsuitable; as we remarked above in regard to natural movement. But movement from
                     without is intensified by the very opposition: because each thing strives in its own way to resist anything contrary to it,
                     as aiming at its own preservation. Hence violent movement is intense at first, and
                     slackens towards the end. Now the movement of the appetitive faculty is from within: since it tends from the soul to the object.
                     Consequently pleasure is, of itself, more to be sought than sorrow is to be shunned. But the movement of the sensitive faculty
                     is from without, as it were from the object of the soul. Consequently the more contrary a thing is the more it is felt. And
                     then too, accidentally, in so far as the senses are requisite for pleasure and pain, pain is shunned more than pleasure
                     is sought.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A6-p10">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> A brave man is not praised because, in accordance with reason, he is not overcome by any kind of sorrow or pain whatever,
                     but because he is not overcome by that which is concerned with the dangers of death. And this kind of sorrow is more shunned,
                     than pleasures of the table or of sexual intercourse are sought, which latter pleasures are the object of temperance: thus
                     life is loved more than food and sexual pleasure. But the temperate man is praised
                     for refraining from pleasures of touch, more than for not shunning the pains which are contrary to them, as is stated in Ethic.
                     iii, 11.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A6-p11"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A6-p12"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q35_A5.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q35_A7.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q35_A7" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q35_A6.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q35_A8.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q35_A7-p0.1">Whether outward pain is greater than interior sorrow?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A7-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A7-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that outward pain is greater than interior sorrow of the heart. Because outward pain arises from a cause repugnant
                     to the well-being of the body in which is life: whereas interior sorrow is caused by some evil in the imagination. Since,
                     therefore, life is loved more than an imagined good, it seems that, according to what has been said above 
                     <a id="FS_Q35_A7-p2.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q35_A6.html">(A[6])</a>, outward pain is greater than interior sorrow.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A7-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, the reality moves more than its likeness does. But outward pain arises from the real conjunction of some contrary;
                     whereas inward sorrow arises from the apprehended likeness of a contrary. Therefore outward pain is greater than inward sorrow.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A7-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, a cause is known by its effect. But outward pain has more striking effects: since man dies sooner of outward pain
                     than of interior sorrow. Therefore outward pain is greater and is shunned more than interior sorrow.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A7-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> it is written (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q35_A7-p5.1" href="./asv.html#Sir.25.17" target="asv">Ecclus. 25:17</a>): "The sadness of the heart is every wound [Douay: 'plague'], and the wickedness of a woman is all evil." Therefore, just
                     as the wickedness of a woman surpasses all other wickedness, as the text implies; so sadness of the heart surpasses every
                     outward wound.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A7-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> Interior and exterior pain agree in one point and differ in two. They agree in this, that each is a movement of the appetitive
                     power, as stated above 
                     <a id="FS_Q35_A7-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q35_A1.html">(A[1])</a>. But they differ in respect of those two things which are requisite for pain and pleasure; namely, in respect of the cause,
                     which is a conjoined good or evil; and in respect of the apprehension. For the cause of outward pain is a conjoined evil repugnant
                     to the body; while the
                     cause of inward pain is a conjoined evil repugnant to the appetite. Again, outward pain arises from an apprehension of sense,
                     chiefly of touch; while inward pain arises from an interior apprehension, of the imagination or of the reason.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A7-p7"> If then we compare the cause of inward pain to the cause of outward pain, the former belongs, of itself, to the appetite
                     to which both these pains belong: while the latter belongs to the appetite directly. Because inward pain arises from something
                     being repugnant to the appetite itself, while outward pain arises from something being repugnant to the appetite, through
                     being repugnant to the body. Now, that which is of itself is always prior to that which is by reason of another.
                     Wherefore, from this point of view, inward pain surpasses outward pain. In like manner also on the part of apprehension: because
                     the apprehension of reason and imagination is of a higher order than the apprehension of the sense of touch. Consequently
                     inward pain is, simply and of itself, more keen than outward pain: a sign whereof is that one willingly undergoes outward
                     pain in order to avoid inward pain: and in so far as outward pain is not repugnant to the interior appetite, it becomes in
                     a
                     manner pleasant and agreeable by way of inward joy. Sometimes, however, outward pain is accompanied by inward pain, and then
                     the pain is increased. Because inward pain is not only greater than outward pain, it is also more universal: since whatever
                     is repugnant to the body, can be repugnant to the interior appetite; and whatever is apprehended by sense may be apprehended
                     by imagination and reason, but not conversely. Hence in the passage quoted above it is said expressively: "Sadness of the
                     heart is every wound," because even the pains of outward wounds are comprised in the interior sorrows of the heart.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A7-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> Inward pain can also arise from things that are destructive of life. And then the comparison of inward to outward pain must
                     not be taken in reference to the various evils that cause pain; but in regard to the various ways in which this cause of pain
                     is compared to the appetite.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A7-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> Inward pain is not caused by the apprehended likeness of a thing: for a man is not inwardly pained by the apprehended likeness
                     itself, but by the thing which the likeness represents. And this thing is all the more perfectly apprehended by means of its
                     likeness, as this likeness is more immaterial and abstract. Consequently inward pain is, of itself, greater, as being caused
                     by a greater evil, forasmuch as evil is better known by an inward
                     apprehension.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A7-p10">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> Bodily changes are more liable to be caused by outward pain, both from the fact that outward pain is caused by a corruptive
                     conjoined corporally, which is a necessary condition of the sense of touch; and from the fact that the outward sense is more
                     material than the inward sense, just as the sensitive appetite is more material than the intellective. For this reason, as
                     stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q35_A7-p10.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q22_A3.html">Q[22], A[3]</a>;
                     <a id="FS_Q35_A7-p10.2" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q31_A5.html"> Q[31],
                        A[5]
                     </a> ), the body undergoes a greater change from the movement of the sensitive appetite: and, in like manner, from outward than
                     from inward pain.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A7-p11"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A7-p12"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q35_A6.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q35_A8.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q35_A8" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q35_A7.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q36.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q35_A8-p0.1">Whether there are only four species of sorrow?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A8-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A8-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that Damascene's (De Fide Orth. ii, 14) division of sorrow into four species is incorrect; viz. into "torpor,
                     distress," which Gregory of Nyssa [*Nemesius, De Nat. Hom. xix.] calls "anxiety,"---"pity," and "envy." For sorrow is contrary
                     to pleasure. But there are not several species of pleasure. Therefore it is incorrect to assign different species of sorrow.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A8-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, "Repentance" is a species of sorrow; and so are "indignation" and "jealousy," as the Philosopher states (Rhet. ii,
                     9,11). But these are not included in the above species. Therefore this division is insufficient.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A8-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, the members of a division should be things that are opposed to one another. But these species are not opposed to
                     one another. For according to Gregory [*Nemesius, De Nat. Hom. xix.] "torpor is sorrow depriving of speech; anxiety is the
                     sorrow that weighs down; envy is sorrow for another's good; pity is sorrow for another's wrongs." But it is possible for one
                     to sorrow for another's wrongs, and for another's good, and at the same time to be weighed
                     down inwardly, and outwardly to be speechless. Therefore this division is correct.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A8-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> stands the twofold authority of Gregory of Nyssa [*Nemesius] and of Damascene.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A8-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> It belongs to the notion of a species that it is something added to the genus. But a thing can be added to a genus in two
                     ways. First, as something belonging of itself to the genus, and virtually contained therein: thus "rational" is added to "animal."
                     Such an addition makes true species of a genus: as the Philosopher says (Metaph. vii, 12; viii, 2,3). But, secondly, a thing
                     may be added to a genus, that is, as it were, foreign to the notion conveyed by that
                     genus: thus "white" or something of the kind may be added to "animal." Such an addition does not make true species of the
                     genus, according to the usual sense in which we speak of genera and species. But sometimes a thing is said to be a species
                     of a certain genus, through having something foreign to that genus indeed, but to which the notion of that genus is applicable:
                     thus a live coal or a flame is said to be a species of fire, because in each of them the nature of fire is applied to a
                     foreign matter. In like manner we speak of astronomy and perspective as being species of mathematics, inasmuch as the principles
                     of mathematics are applied to natural matter.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A8-p7"> In accordance with this manner of speaking, the species of sorrow are reckoned by an application of the notion of sorrow
                     to something foreign to it. This foreign matter may be taken on the part of the cause or the object, or of the effect. For
                     the proper object of sorrow is "one's own evil." Hence sorrow may be concerned for an object foreign to it either through
                     one's being sorry for an evil that is not one's own; and thus we have "pity" which is sorrow for another's evil,
                     considered, however, as one's own: or through one's being sorry for something that is neither evil nor one's own, but another's
                     good, considered, however, as one's own evil: and thus we have "envy." The proper effect of sorrow consists in a certain "flight
                     of the appetite." Wherefore the foreign element in the effect of sorrow, may be taken so as to affect the first part only,
                     by excluding flight: and thus we have "anxiety" which weighs on the mind, so as to make escape seem impossible: hence
                     it is also called "perplexity." If, however, the mind be weighed down so much, that even the limbs become motionless, which
                     belongs to "torpor," then we have the foreign element affecting both, since there is neither flight, nor is the effect in
                     the appetite. And the reason why torpor especially is said to deprive one of speech is because of all the external movements
                     the voice is the best expression of the inward thought and desire, not only in men, but also in other animals, as is stated
                     in
                     Polit. i, 1.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A8-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> Pleasure is caused by good, which has only one meaning: and so pleasure is not divided into several species as sorrow is;
                     for the latter is caused by evil, which "happens in many ways," as Dionysius says (Div. Nom. iv).
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A8-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> Repentance is for one's own evil, which is the proper object of sorrow: wherefore it does not belong to these species. Jealousy
                     and indignation are included in envy, as we shall explain later (
                     <a id="FS_Q35_A8-p9.1" shape="rect" href="summa.SS_Q36_A2.html">SS, Q[36], A[2]</a>).
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A8-p10">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> This division is not according to opposite species; but according to the diversity of foreign matter to which the notion
                     of sorrow is applied, as stated above.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A8-p11"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q35_A8-p12"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q35_A7.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q36.html"></a>
               </div>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q34_A4.html"></a>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q35_A1.html"></a>
            </div>
            <div id="FS_Q36" class="div3">
               <a href="summa.FS_Q35_A8.html"></a>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q36_A1.html"></a>
               <h3 id="FS_Q36-p0.1">OF THE CAUSES OF SORROW OR PAIN (FOUR ARTICLES)</h3>
               <p id="FS_Q36-p1"></p>
               <p id="FS_Q36-p2"> We must now consider the causes of sorrow: under which head there are four points of inquiry:</p>
               <p id="FS_Q36-p3"> (1) Whether sorrow is caused by the loss of a good or rather by the presence of an evil?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q36-p4"> (2) Whether desire is a cause of sorrow?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q36-p5"> (3) Whether the craving for unity is a cause of sorrow?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q36-p6"> (4) Whether an irresistible power is a cause of sorrow?</p>
               <div id="FS_Q36_A1" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q36.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q36_A2.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q36_A1-p0.1">Whether sorrow is caused by the loss of good or by the presence of evil?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q36_A1-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q36_A1-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that sorrow is caused by the loss of a good rather than by the presence of an evil. For Augustine says (De
                     viii QQ. Dulcit. qu. 1) that sorrow is caused by the loss of temporal goods. Therefore, in like manner, every sorrow is caused
                     by the loss of some good.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q36_A1-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, it was said above (
                     <a id="FS_Q36_A1-p3.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q35_A4.html">Q[35], A[4]</a>) that the sorrow which is contrary to a pleasure, has the same object as that pleasure. But the object of pleasure is good,
                     as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q36_A1-p3.2" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q23_A4.html">Q[23], A[4]</a>;
                     <a id="FS_Q36_A1-p3.3" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q31_A1.html"> Q[31], A[1]</a>;
                     <a id="FS_Q36_A1-p3.4" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q35_A3.html"> Q[35], A[3]</a>). Therefore sorrow is caused chiefly by the loss of good.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q36_A1-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, according to Augustine (De Civ. Dei xiv, 7,9), love is the cause of sorrow, as of the other emotions of the soul.
                     But the object of love is good. Therefore pain or sorrow is felt for the loss of good rather than for an evil that is present.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q36_A1-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> Damascene says (De Fide Orth. ii, 12) that "the dreaded evil gives rise to fear, the present evil is the cause of sorrow."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q36_A1-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> If privations, as considered by the mind, were what they are in reality, this question would seem to be of no importance.
                     For, as stated in the 
                     <a id="FS_Q36_A1-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FP_Q14_A10.html">FP, Q[14], A[10]</a> and 
                     <a id="FS_Q36_A1-p6.2" shape="rect" href="summa.FP_Q48_A3.html">FP, Q[48], A[3]</a>, evil is the privation of good: and privation is in reality nothing else than the lack of the contrary habit; so that, in
                     this respect, to sorrow for the loss of good, would be the same as to sorrow for the presence of evil. But
                     sorrow is a movement of the appetite in consequence of an apprehension: and even a privation, as apprehended, has the aspect
                     of a being, wherefore it is called "a being of reason." And in this way evil, being a privation, is regarded as a "contrary."
                     Accordingly, so far as the movement of the appetite is concerned, it makes a difference which of the two it regards chiefly,
                     the present evil or the good which is lost.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q36_A1-p7"> Again, since the movement of the animal appetite holds the same place in the actions of the soul, as natural movement in
                     natural things; the truth of the matter is to be found by considering natural movements. For if, in natural movements, we
                     observe those of approach and withdrawal, approach is of itself directed to something suitable to nature; while withdrawal
                     is of itself directed to something contrary to nature; thus a heavy body, of itself, withdraws from a higher place,
                     and approaches naturally to a lower place. But if we consider the cause of both these movements, viz. gravity, then gravity
                     itself inclines towards the lower place more than it withdraws from the higher place, since withdrawal from the latter is
                     the reason for its downward tendency.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q36_A1-p8"> Accordingly, since, in the movements of the appetite, sorrow is a kind of flight or withdrawal, while pleasure is a kind
                     of pursuit or approach; just as pleasure regards first the good possessed, as its proper object, so sorrow regards the evil
                     that is present. On the other hand love, which is the cause of pleasure and sorrow, regards good rather than evil: and therefore,
                     forasmuch as the object is the cause of a passion, the present evil is more properly the cause of sorrow or
                     pain, than the good which is lost.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q36_A1-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> The loss itself of good is apprehended as an evil, just as the loss of evil is apprehended as a good: and in this sense Augustine
                     says that pain results from the loss of temporal goods.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q36_A1-p10">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> Pleasure and its contrary pain have the same object, but under contrary aspects: because if the presence of a particular
                     thin be the object of pleasure, the absence of that same thing is the object of sorrow. Now one contrary includes the privation
                     of the other, as stated in Metaph. x, 4: and consequently sorrow in respect of one contrary is, in a way, directed to the
                     same thing under a contrary aspect.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q36_A1-p11">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> When many movements arise from one cause, it does not follow that they all regard chiefly that which the cause regards chiefly,
                     but only the first of them. And each of the others regards chiefly that which is suitable to it according to its own nature.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q36_A1-p12"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q36_A1-p13"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q36.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q36_A2.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q36_A2" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q36_A1.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q36_A3.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q36_A2-p0.1">Whether desire is a cause of sorrow?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q36_A2-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q36_A2-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that desire is not a cause of pain or sorrow. Because sorrow of itself regards evil, as stated above 
                     <a id="FS_Q36_A2-p2.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q36_A1.html">(A[1])</a>: whereas desire is a movement of the appetite towards good. Now movement towards one contrary is not a cause of movement
                     towards the other contrary. Therefore desire is not a cause of pain.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q36_A2-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, pain, according to Damascene (De Fide Orth. ii, 12), is caused by something present; whereas the object of desire
                     is something future. Therefore desire is not a cause of pain.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q36_A2-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, that which is pleasant in itself is not a cause of pain. But desire is pleasant in itself, as the Philosopher says
                     (Rhet. i, 11). Therefore desire is not a cause of pain or sorrow.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q36_A2-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> Augustine says (Enchiridion xxiv): "When ignorance of things necessary to be done, and desire of things hurtful, found their
                     way in: error and pain stole an entrance in their company." But ignorance is the cause of error. Therefore desire is a cause
                     of sorrow.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q36_A2-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> Sorrow is a movement of the animal appetite. Now, as stated above 
                     <a id="FS_Q36_A2-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q36_A1.html">(A[1])</a>, the appetitive movement is likened to the natural appetite; a likeness, that may be assigned to a twofold cause; one, on
                     the part of the end, the other, on the part of the principle of movement. Thus, on the part of the end, the cause of a heavy
                     body's downward movement is the lower place; while the principle of that movement is a natural inclination resulting
                     from gravity.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q36_A2-p7"> Now the cause of the appetitive movement, on the part of the end, is the object of that movement. And thus, it has been said
                     above 
                     <a id="FS_Q36_A2-p7.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q36_A1.html">(A[1])</a> that the cause of pain or sorrow is a present evil. On the other hand, the cause, by way or principle, of that movement,
                     is the inward inclination of the appetite; which inclination regards, first of all, the good, and in consequence, the rejection
                     of a contrary evil. Hence the first principle of this appetitive
                     movement is love, which is the first inclination of the appetite towards the possession of good: while the second principle
                     is hatred, which is the first inclination of the appetite towards the avoidance of evil. But since concupiscence or desire
                     is the first effect of love, which gives rise to the greatest pleasure, as stated above (Q[32], A[6]); hence it is that Augustine
                     often speaks of desire or concupiscence in the sense of love, as was also stated (Q[30], A[2], ad 2): and in this sense he
                     says that desire is the universal cause of sorrow. Sometimes, however, desire taken in its proper sense, is the cause of sorrow.
                     Because whatever hinders a movement from reaching its end is contrary to that movement. Now that which is contrary to the
                     movement of the appetite, is a cause of sorrow. Consequently, desire becomes a cause of sorrow, in so far as we sorrow for
                     the delay of a desired good, or for its entire removal. But it cannot be a universal cause of sorrow: since we sorrow more
                     for the loss of present good, in which we have already taken pleasure, than for the withdrawal of future good which we desire
                     to have.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q36_A2-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> The inclination of the appetite to the possession of good causes the inclination of the appetite to fly from evil, as stated
                     above. And hence it is that the appetitive movements that regard good, are reckoned as causing the appetitive movements that
                     regard evil.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q36_A2-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> That which is desired, though really future, is, nevertheless, in a way, present, inasmuch as it is hoped for. Or we may
                     say that although the desired good itself is future, yet the hindrance is reckoned as present, and so gives rise to sorrow.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q36_A2-p10">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> Desire gives pleasure, so long as there is hope of obtaining that which is desired. But, when hope is removed through the
                     presence of an obstacle, desire causes sorrow.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q36_A2-p11"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q36_A2-p12"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q36_A1.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q36_A3.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q36_A3" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q36_A2.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q36_A4.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q36_A3-p0.1">Whether the craving for unity is a cause of sorrow?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q36_A3-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q36_A3-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that the craving for unity is not a cause of sorrow. For the Philosopher says (Ethic. x, 3) that "this opinion,"
                     which held repletion to be the cause of pleasure, and division [*Aristotle wrote {endeian}, 'want'; St. Thomas, in the Latin
                     version, read 'incisionem'; should he have read 'indigentiam'?], the cause of sorrow, "seems to have originated in pains and
                     pleasures connected with food." But not every pleasure or sorrow is of this kind.
                     Therefore the craving for unity is not the universal cause of sorrow; since repletion pertains to unity, and division is the
                     cause of multitude.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q36_A3-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, every separation is opposed to unity. If therefore sorrow were caused by a craving for unity, no separation would
                     be pleasant: and this is clearly untrue as regards the separation of whatever is superfluous.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q36_A3-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, for the same reason we desire the conjunction of good and the removal of evil. But as conjunction regards unity,
                     since it is a kind of union; so separation is contrary to unity. Therefore the craving for unity should not be reckoned, rather
                     than the craving for separation, as causing sorrow.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q36_A3-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> Augustine says (De Lib. Arb. iii, 23), that "from the pain that dumb animals feel, it is quite evident how their souls desire
                     unity, in ruling and quickening their bodies. For what else is pain but a feeling of impatience of division or corruption?"
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q36_A3-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> Forasmuch as the desire or craving for good is reckoned as a cause of sorrow, so must a craving for unity, and love, be accounted
                     as causing sorrow. Because the good of each thing consists in a certain unity, inasmuch as each thing has, united in itself,
                     the elements of which its perfection consists: wherefore the Platonists held that "one" is a principle, just as "good" is.
                     Hence everything naturally desires unity, just as it desires goodness: and
                     therefore, just as love or desire for good is a cause of sorrow, so also is the love or craving for unity.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q36_A3-p7">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> Not every kind of union causes perfect goodness, but only that on which the perfect being of a thing depends. Hence neither
                     does the desire of any kind of unity cause pain or sorrow, as some have maintained: whose opinion is refuted by the Philosopher
                     from the fact that repletion is not always pleasant; for instance, when a man has eaten to repletion, he takes no further
                     pleasure in eating; because repletion or union of this kind, is repugnant rather
                     than conducive to perfect being. Consequently sorrow is caused by the craving, not for any kind of unity, but for that unity
                     in which the perfection of nature consists.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q36_A3-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> Separation can be pleasant, either because it removes something contrary to a thing's perfection, or because it has some
                     union connected with it, such as union of the sense to its object.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q36_A3-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> Separation from things hurtful and corruptive is desired, in so far as they destroy the unity which is due. Wherefore the
                     desire for such like separation is not the first cause of sorrow, whereas the craving for unity is.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q36_A3-p10"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q36_A3-p11"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q36_A2.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q36_A4.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q36_A4" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q36_A3.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q37.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q36_A4-p0.1">Whether an irresistible power is a cause of sorrow?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q36_A4-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q36_A4-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that a greater power should not be reckoned a cause of sorrow. For that which is in the power of the agent
                     is not present but future. But sorrow is for present evil. Therefore a greater power is not a cause of sorrow.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q36_A4-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, hurt inflicted is the cause of sorrow. But hurt can be inflicted even by a lesser power. Therefore a greater power
                     should not be reckoned as a cause of sorrow.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q36_A4-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, the interior inclinations of the soul are the causes of the movements of appetite. But a greater power is something
                     external. Therefore it should not be reckoned as a cause of sorrow.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q36_A4-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> Augustine says (De Nat. Boni xx): "Sorrow in the soul is caused by the will resisting a stronger power: while pain in the
                     body is caused by sense resisting a stronger body."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q36_A4-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> As stated above 
                     <a id="FS_Q36_A4-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q36_A1.html">(A[1])</a>, a present evil, is cause of sorrow or pain, by way of object. Therefore that which is the cause of the evil being present,
                     should be reckoned as causing pain or sorrow. Now it is evident that it is contrary to the inclination of the appetite to
                     be united with a present evil: and whatever is contrary to a thing's inclination does not happen to it save by the action
                     of something stronger. Wherefore Augustine
                     reckons a greater power as being the cause of sorrow.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q36_A4-p7"> But it must be noted that if the stronger power goes so far as to transform the contrary inclination into its own inclination
                     there will be no longer repugnance or violence: thus if a stronger agent, by its action on a heavy body, deprives it of its
                     downward tendency, its consequent upward tendency is not violent but natural to it.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q36_A4-p8"> Accordingly if some greater power prevail so far as to take away from the will or the sensitive appetite, their respective
                     inclinations, pain or sorrow will not result therefrom; such is the result only when the contrary inclination of the appetite
                     remains. And hence Augustine says (De Nat. Boni xx) that sorrow is caused by the will "resisting a stronger power": for were
                     it not to resist, but to yield by consenting, the result would be not sorrow but pleasure.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q36_A4-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> A greater power causes sorrow, as acting not potentially but actually, i.e. by causing the actual presence of the corruptive
                     evil.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q36_A4-p10">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> Nothing hinders a power which is not simply greater, from being greater in some respect: and accordingly it is able to inflict
                     some harm. But if it be nowise stronger, it can do no harm at all: wherefore it cannot bring about that which causes sorrow.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q36_A4-p11">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> External agents can be the causes of appetitive movements, in so far as they cause the presence of the object: and it is
                     thus that a greater power is reckoned to be the cause of sorrow.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q36_A4-p12"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q36_A4-p13"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q36_A3.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q37.html"></a>
               </div>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q35_A8.html"></a>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q36_A1.html"></a>
            </div>
            <div id="FS_Q37" class="div3">
               <a href="summa.FS_Q36_A4.html"></a>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q37_A1.html"></a>
               <h3 id="FS_Q37-p0.1">OF THE EFFECTS OF PAIN OR SORROW (FOUR ARTICLES)</h3>
               <p id="FS_Q37-p1"></p>
               <p id="FS_Q37-p2"> We must now consider the effects of pain or of sorrow: under which head there are four points of inquiry:</p>
               <p id="FS_Q37-p3"> (1) Whether pain deprives one of the power to learn?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q37-p4"> (2) Whether the effect of sorrow or pain is to burden the soul?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q37-p5"> (3) Whether sorrow or pain weakens all activity?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q37-p6"> (4) Whether sorrow is more harmful to the body than all the other passions of the soul?</p>
               <div id="FS_Q37_A1" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q37.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q37_A2.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q37_A1-p0.1">Whether pain deprives one of the power to learn?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q37_A1-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q37_A1-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that pain does not deprive one of the power to learn. For it is written (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q37_A1-p2.1" href="./asv.html#Isa.26.9" target="asv">Is. 26:9</a>): "When Thou shalt do Thy judgments on the earth, the inhabitants of the world shall learn justice": and further on (verse
                     16): "In the tribulation of murmuring Thy instruction was with them." But the judgments of God and tribulation cause sorrow
                     in men's hearts. Therefore pain or sorrow, far from destroying, increases the power of learning.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q37_A1-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, it is written (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q37_A1-p3.1" href="./asv.html#Isa.28.9" target="asv">Is. 28:9</a>): "Whom shall He teach knowledge? And whom shall He make to understand the hearing? Them that are weaned from the milk, that
                     are drawn away from the breasts," i.e. from pleasures. But pain and sorrow are most destructive of pleasure; since sorrow
                     hinders all pleasure, as stated in Ethic. vii, 14: and (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q37_A1-p3.2" href="./asv.html#Sir.11.29" target="asv">Ecclus. 11:29</a>) it is stated that "the affliction of an hour maketh one forget great
                     delights." Therefore pain, instead of taking away, increases the faculty of learning.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q37_A1-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, inward sorrow surpasses outward pain, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q37_A1-p4.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q35_A7.html">Q[35], A[7]</a>). But man can learn while sorrowful. Much more, therefore, can he learn while in bodily pain.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q37_A1-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> Augustine says (Soliloq. i, 12): "Although during those days I was tormented with a violent tooth-ache, I was not able to
                     turn over in my mind other things than those I had already learnt; and as to learning anything, I was quite unequal to it,
                     because it required undivided attention."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q37_A1-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> Since all the powers of the soul are rooted in the one essence of the soul, it must needs happen, when the intention of the
                     soul is strongly drawn towards the action of one power, that it is withdrawn from the action of another power: because the
                     soul, being one, can only have one intention. The result is that if one thing draws upon itself the entire intention of the
                     soul, or a great portion thereof, anything else requiring considerable attention is
                     incompatible therewith.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q37_A1-p7"> Now it is evident that sensible pain above all draws the soul's attention to itself; because it is natural for each thing
                     to tend wholly to repel whatever is contrary to it, as may be observed even in natural things. It is likewise evident that
                     in order to learn anything new, we require study and effort with a strong intention, as is clearly stated in
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q37_A1-p7.1" href="./asv.html#Prov.2.4" target="asv"> Prov. 2:4,5</a>: "If thou shalt seek wisdom as money, and shall dig for her as for a treasure, then shalt thou
                     understand learning" [Vulg: 'the fear of the Lord']. Consequently if the pain be acute, man is prevented at the time from
                     learning anything: indeed it can be so acute, that, as long as it lasts, a man is unable to give his attention even to that
                     which he knew already. However a difference is to be observed according to the difference of love that a man has for learning
                     or for considering: because the greater his love, the more will he retain the intention of his mind so as to prevent it from
                     turning entirely to the pain.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q37_A1-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> Moderate sorrow, that does not cause the mind to wander, can conduce to the acquisition of learning especially in regard
                     to those things by which a man hopes to be freed from sorrow. And thus, "in the tribulation of murmuring," men are more apt
                     to be taught by God.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q37_A1-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> Both pleasure and pain, in so far as they draw upon themselves the soul's intention, hinder the reason from the act of consideration,
                     wherefore it is stated in Ethic. vii, 11 that "in the moment of sexual pleasure, a man cannot understand anything." Nevertheless
                     pain attracts the soul's intention more than pleasure does: thus we observe in natural things that the action of a natural
                     body is more intense in regard to its contrary; for instance, hot
                     water is more accessible to the action of cold, and in consequence freezes harder. If therefore pain or sorrow be moderate,
                     it can conduce accidentally to the facility of learning, in so far as it takes away an excess of pleasure. But, of itself,
                     it is a hindrance; and if it be intense, it prevents it altogether.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q37_A1-p10">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> External pain arises from hurt done to the body, so that it involves bodily transmutation more than inward sorrow does: and
                     yet the latter is greater in regard to the formal element of pain, which belongs to the soul. Consequently bodily pain is
                     a greater hindrance to contemplation which requires complete repose, than inward sorrow is. Nevertheless if inward sorrow
                     be very intense, it attracts the intention, so that man is unable to learn anything for
                     the first time: wherefore on account of sorrow Gregory interrupted his commentary on Ezechiel (Hom. xxii in Ezechiel).
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q37_A1-p11"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q37_A1-p12"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q37.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q37_A2.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q37_A2" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q37_A1.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q37_A3.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q37_A2-p0.1">Whether the effect of sorrow or pain is to burden the soul?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q37_A2-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q37_A2-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that it is not an effect of sorrow to burden the soul. For the Apostle says (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q37_A2-p2.1" href="./asv.html#iiCor.7.11" target="asv">2 Cor. 7:11</a>): "Behold this self-same thing, that you were made sorrowful according to God, how great carefulness it worketh in you: yea,
                     defence, yea indignation," etc. Now carefulness and indignation imply that the soul is uplifted, which is contrary to being
                     depressed. Therefore depression is not an effect of sorrow.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q37_A2-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, sorrow is contrary to pleasure. But the effect of pleasure is expansion: the opposite of which is not depression
                     but contraction. Therefore depression should not be reckoned as an effect of sorrow.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q37_A2-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, sorrow consumes those who are inflicted therewith, as may be gathered from the words of the Apostle (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q37_A2-p4.1" href="./asv.html#iiCor.2.7" target="asv">2 Cor. 2:7</a>): "Lest perhaps such an one be swallowed up with overmuch sorrow." But that which is depressed is not consumed; nay, it is
                     weighed down by something heavy, whereas that which is consumed enters within the consumer. Therefore depression should not
                     be reckoned an effect of sorrow.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q37_A2-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> Gregory of Nyssa [*Nemesius, De Nat. Hom. xix.] and Damascene (De Fide Orth. ii, 14) speak of "depressing sorrow."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q37_A2-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> The effects of the soul's passions are sometimes named metaphorically, from a likeness to sensible bodies: for the reason
                     that the movements of the animal appetite are like the inclinations of the natural appetite. And in this way fervor is ascribed
                     to love, expansion to pleasure, and depression to sorrow. For a man is said to be depressed, through being hindered in his
                     own movement by some weight. Now it is evident from what has been said above (
                     <a id="FS_Q37_A2-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q23_A4.html">Q[23], A[4]</a>;
                     <a id="FS_Q37_A2-p6.2" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q25_A4.html"> Q[25], A[4]</a>;
                     <a id="FS_Q37_A2-p6.3" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q36_A1.html"> Q[36], A[1]</a>) that sorrow is caused by a present evil: and this evil, from the very fact that it is repugnant to the movement of the will,
                     depresses the soul, inasmuch as it hinders it from enjoying that which it wishes to enjoy. And if the evil which is the cause
                     of sorrow be not so strong as to deprive one of the hope of avoiding it, although the soul be depressed in so far as, for
                     the present, it
                     fails to grasp that which it craves for; yet it retains the movement whereby to repulse that evil. If, on the other hand,
                     the strength of the evil be such as to exclude the hope of evasion, then even the interior movement of the afflicted soul
                     is absolutely hindered, so that it cannot turn aside either this way or that. Sometimes even the external movement of the
                     body is paralyzed, so that a man becomes completely stupefied.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q37_A2-p7">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> That uplifting of the soul ensues from the sorrow which is according to God, because it brings with it the hope of the forgiveness
                     of sin.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q37_A2-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> As far as the movement of the appetite is concerned, contraction and depression amount to the same: because the soul, through
                     being depressed so as to be unable to attend freely to outward things, withdraws to itself, closing itself up as it were.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q37_A2-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> Sorrow is said to consume man, when the force of the afflicting evil is such as to shut out all hope of evasion: and thus
                     also it both depresses and consumes at the same time. For certain things, taken metaphorically, imply one another, which taken
                     literally, appear to exclude one another.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q37_A2-p10"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q37_A2-p11"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q37_A1.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q37_A3.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q37_A3" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q37_A2.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q37_A4.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q37_A3-p0.1">Whether sorrow or pain weakens all activity?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q37_A3-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q37_A3-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that sorrow does not weaken all activity. Because carefulness is caused by sorrow, as is clear from the passage
                     of the Apostle quoted above (A[2], OBJ[1]). But carefulness conduces to good work: wherefore the Apostle says (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q37_A3-p2.1" href="./asv.html#iiTim.2.15" target="asv">2 Tim. 2:15</a>): "Carefully study to present thyself . . . a workman that needeth not to be ashamed." Therefore sorrow is not a hindrance
                     to work, but helps one to work well.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q37_A3-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, sorrow causes desire in many cases, as stated in Ethic. vii, 14. But desire causes intensity of action. Therefore
                     sorrow does too.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q37_A3-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, as some actions are proper to the joyful, so are others proper to the sorrowful; for instance, to mourn. Now a thing
                     is improved by that which is suitable to it. Therefore certain actions are not hindered but improved by reason of sorrow.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q37_A3-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> The Philosopher says (Ethic. x, 4) that "pleasure perfects action," whereas on the other hand, "sorrow hinders it" (Ethic.
                     x, 5).
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q37_A3-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> As stated above 
                     <a id="FS_Q37_A3-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q37_A2.html">(A[2])</a>, sorrow at times does not depress or consume the soul, so as to shut out all movement, internal or external; but certain
                     movements are sometimes caused by sorrow itself. Accordingly action stands in a twofold relation to sorrow. First, as being
                     the object of sorrow: and thus sorrow hinders any action: for we never do that which we do with sorrow, so well as that which
                     we do with pleasure, or without sorrow. The
                     reason for this is that the will is the cause of human actions: and consequently when we do something that gives pain, the
                     action must of necessity be weakened in consequence. Secondly, action stands in relation to sorrow, as to its principle and
                     cause: and such action must needs be improved by sorrow: thus the more one sorrows on account of a certain thing, the more
                     one strives to shake off sorrow, provided there is a hope of shaking it off: otherwise no movement or action would result
                     from
                     that sorrow.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q37_A3-p7"> From what has been said the replies to the objections are evident.</p>
                  <p id="FS_Q37_A3-p8"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q37_A3-p9"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q37_A2.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q37_A4.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q37_A4" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q37_A3.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q38.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q37_A4-p0.1">Whether sorrow is more harmful to the body than the other passions of the soul?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q37_A4-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q37_A4-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that sorrow is not most harmful to the body. For sorrow has a spiritual existence in the soul. But those things
                     which have only a spiritual existence do not cause a transmutation in the body: as is evident with regard to the images of
                     colors, which images are in the air and do not give color to bodies. Therefore sorrow is not harmful to the body.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q37_A4-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further if it be harmful to the body, this can only be due to its having a bodily transmutation in conjunction with it. But
                     bodily transmutation takes place in all the passions of the soul, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q37_A4-p3.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q22_A1.html">Q[22], AA[1]</a>,3). Therefore sorrow is not more harmful to the body than the other passions of the soul.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q37_A4-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, the Philosopher says (Ethic. vii, 3) that "anger and desire drive some to madness": which seems to be a very great
                     harm, since reason is the most excellent thing in man. Moreover, despair seems to be more harmful than sorrow; for it is the
                     cause of sorrow. Therefore sorrow is not more harmful to the body than the other passions of the soul.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q37_A4-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> It is written (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q37_A4-p5.1" href="./asv.html#Prov.17.22" target="asv">Prov. 17:22</a>): "A joyful mind maketh age flourishing: a sorrowful spirit drieth up the bones": and (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q37_A4-p5.2" href="./asv.html#Prov.25.20" target="asv">Prov. 25:20</a>): "As a moth doth by a garment, and a worm by the wood: so the sadness of a man consumeth the heart": and (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q37_A4-p5.3" href="./asv.html#Sir.38.19" target="asv">Ecclus. 38:19</a>): "Of sadness cometh death."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q37_A4-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> Of all the soul's passions, sorrow is most harmful to the body. The reason of this is because sorrow is repugnant to man's
                     life in respect of the species of its movement, and not merely in respect of its measure or quantity, as is the case with
                     the other passions of the soul. For man's life consists in a certain movement, which flows from the heart to the other parts
                     of the body: and this movement is befitting to human nature according to a certain fixed
                     measure. Consequently if this movement goes beyond the right measure, it will be repugnant to man's life in respect of the
                     measure of quantity; but not in respect of its specific character: whereas if this movement be hindered in its progress, it
                     will be repugnant to life in respect of its species.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q37_A4-p7"> Now it must be noted that, in all the passions of the soul, the bodily transmutation which is their material element, is
                     in conformity with and in proportion to the appetitive movement, which is the formal element: just as in everything matter
                     is proportionate to form. Consequently those passions that imply a movement of the appetite in pursuit of something, are not
                     repugnant to the vital movement as regards its species, but they may be repugnant thereto as regards its measure:
                     such are love, joy, desire and the like; wherefore these passions conduce to the well-being of the body; though, if they be
                     excessive, they may be harmful to it. On the other hand, those passions which denote in the appetite a movement of flight
                     or contraction, are repugnant to the vital movement, not only as regards its measure, but also as regards its species; wherefore
                     they are simply harmful: such are fear and despair, and above all sorrow which depresses the soul by reason of a present
                     evil, which makes a stronger impression than future evil.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q37_A4-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> Since the soul naturally moves the body, the spiritual movement of the soul is naturally the cause of bodily transmutation.
                     Nor is there any parallel with spiritual images, because they are not naturally ordained to move such other bodies as are
                     not naturally moved by the soul.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q37_A4-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> Other passions imply a bodily transmutation which is specifically in conformity with the vital movement: whereas sorrow implies
                     a transmutation that is repugnant thereto, as stated above.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q37_A4-p10">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> A lesser cause suffices to hinder the use of reason, than to destroy life: since we observe that many ailments deprive one
                     of the use of reason, before depriving one of life. Nevertheless fear and anger cause very great harm to the body, by reason
                     of the sorrow which they imply, and which arises from the absence of the thing desired. Moreover sorrow too sometimes deprives
                     man of the use of reason: as may be seen in those who through sorrow become a
                     prey to melancholy or madness.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q37_A4-p11"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q37_A4-p12"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q37_A3.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q38.html"></a>
               </div>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q36_A4.html"></a>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q37_A1.html"></a>
            </div>
            <div id="FS_Q38" class="div3">
               <a href="summa.FS_Q37_A4.html"></a>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q38_A1.html"></a>
               <h3 id="FS_Q38-p0.1">OF THE REMEDIES OF SORROW OR PAIN (FIVE ARTICLES)</h3>
               <p id="FS_Q38-p1"></p>
               <p id="FS_Q38-p2"> We must now consider the remedies of pain or sorrow: under which head there are five points of inquiry:</p>
               <p id="FS_Q38-p3"> (1) Whether pain or sorrow is assuaged by every pleasure?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q38-p4"> (2) Whether it is assuaged by weeping?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q38-p5"> (3) Whether it is assuaged by the sympathy of friends?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q38-p6"> (4) Whether it is assuaged by contemplating the truth?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q38-p7"> (5) Whether it is assuaged by sleep and baths?</p>
               <div id="FS_Q38_A1" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q38.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q38_A2.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q38_A1-p0.1">Whether pain or sorrow is assuaged by every pleasure?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q38_A1-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q38_A1-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that not every pleasure assuages every pain or sorrow. For pleasure does not assuage sorrow, save in so far
                     as it is contrary to it: for "remedies work by contraries" (Ethic. ii, 3). But not every pleasure is contrary to every sorrow;
                     as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q38_A1-p2.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q35_A4.html">Q[35], A[4]</a> ). Therefore not every pleasure assuages every sorrow.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q38_A1-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, that which causes sorrow does not assuage it. But some pleasures cause sorrow; since, as stated in Ethic. ix, 4,
                     "the wicked man feels pain at having been pleased." Therefore not every pleasure assuages sorrow.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q38_A1-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, Augustine says (Confess. iv, 7) that he fled from his country, where he had been wont to associate with his friend,
                     now dead: "for so should his eyes look for him less, where they were not wont to see him." Hence we may gather that those
                     things which united us to our dead or absent friends, become burdensome to us when we mourn their death or absence. But nothing
                     united us more than the pleasures we enjoyed in common. Therefore these very pleasures
                     become burdensome to us when we mourn. Therefore not every pleasure assuages every sorrow.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q38_A1-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> The Philosopher says (Ethic. vii, 14) that "sorrow is driven forth by pleasure, both by a contrary pleasure and by any other,
                     provided it be intense."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q38_A1-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> As is evident from what has been said above (
                     <a id="FS_Q38_A1-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q23_A4.html">Q[23], A[4]</a> ), pleasure is a kind of repose of the appetite in a suitable good; while sorrow arises from something unsuited to the appetite.
                     Consequently in movements of the appetite pleasure is to sorrow, what, in bodies, repose is to weariness, which is due to
                     a non-natural transmutation; for sorrow itself implies a certain weariness or ailing of the appetitive faculty. Therefore
                     just as
                     all repose of the body brings relief to any kind of weariness, ensuing from any non-natural cause; so every pleasure brings
                     relief by assuaging any kind of sorrow, due to any cause whatever.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q38_A1-p7">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> Although not every pleasure is specifically contrary to every sorrow, yet it is generically, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q38_A1-p7.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q35_A4.html">Q[35], A[4]</a>). And consequently, on the part of the disposition of the subject, any sorrow can be assuaged by any pleasure.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q38_A1-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> The pleasures of wicked men are not a cause of sorrow while they are enjoyed, but afterwards: that is to say, in so far as
                     wicked men repent of those things in which they took pleasure. This sorrow is healed by contrary pleasures.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q38_A1-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> When there are two causes inclining to contrary movements, each hinders the other; yet the one which is stronger and more
                     persistent, prevails in the end. Now when a man is made sorrowful by those things in which he took pleasure in common with
                     a deceased or absent friend, there are two causes producing contrary movements. For the thought of the friend's death or absence,
                     inclines him to sorrow: whereas the present good inclines him to pleasure.
                     Consequently each is modified by the other. And yet, since the perception of the present moves more strongly than the memory
                     of the past, and since love of self is more persistent than love of another; hence it is that, in the end, the pleasure drives
                     out the sorrow. Wherefore a little further on (Confess. iv, 8) Augustine says that his "sorrow gave way to his former pleasures."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q38_A1-p10"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q38_A1-p11"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q38.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q38_A2.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q38_A2" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q38_A1.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q38_A3.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q38_A2-p0.1">Whether pain or sorrow is assuaged by tears?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q38_A2-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q38_A2-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that tears do not assuage sorrow. Because no effect diminishes its cause. But tears or groans are an effect
                     of sorrow. Therefore they do not diminish sorrow.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q38_A2-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, just as tears or groans are an effect of sorrow, so laughter is an effect of joy. But laughter does not lessen joy.
                     Therefore tears do not lessen sorrow.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q38_A2-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, when we weep, the evil that saddens us is present to the imagination. But the image of that which saddens us increases
                     sorrow, just as the image of a pleasant thing adds to joy. Therefore it seems that tears do not assuage sorrow.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q38_A2-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> Augustine says (Confess. iv, 7) that when he mourned the death of his friend, "in groans and in tears alone did he find some
                     little refreshment."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q38_A2-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> Tears and groans naturally assuage sorrow: and this for two reasons. First, because a hurtful thing hurts yet more if we
                     keep it shut up, because the soul is more intent on it: whereas if it be allowed to escape, the soul's intention is dispersed
                     as it were on outward things, so that the inward sorrow is lessened. This is why men, burdened with sorrow, make outward show
                     of their sorrow, by tears or groans or even by words, their sorrow is assuaged. Secondly,
                     because an action, that befits a man according to his actual disposition, is always pleasant to him. Now tears and groans
                     are actions befitting a man who is in sorrow or pain; and consequently they become pleasant to him. Since then, as stated
                     above 
                     <a id="FS_Q38_A2-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q38_A1.html">(A[1])</a>, every pleasure assuages sorrow or pain somewhat, it follows that sorrow is assuaged by weeping and groans.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q38_A2-p7">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> This relation of the cause to effect is opposed to the relation existing between the cause of sorrow and the sorrowing man.
                     For every effect is suited to its cause, and consequently is pleasant to it; but the cause of sorrow is disagreeable to him
                     that sorrows. Hence the effect of sorrow is not related to him that sorrows in the same way as the cause of sorrow is. For
                     this reason sorrow is assuaged by its effect, on account of the aforesaid
                     contrariety.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q38_A2-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> The relation of effect to cause is like the relation of the object of pleasure to him that takes pleasure in it: because
                     in each case the one agrees with the other. Now every like thing increases its like. Therefore joy is increased by laughter
                     and the other effects of joy: except they be excessive, in which case, accidentally, they lessen it.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q38_A2-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> The image of that which saddens us, considered in itself, has a natural tendency to increase sorrow: yet from the very fact
                     that a man imagines himself to be doing that which is fitting according to his actual state, he feels a certain amount of
                     pleasure. For the same reason if laughter escapes a man when he is so disposed that he thinks he ought to weep, he is sorry
                     for it, as having done something unbecoming to him, as Cicero says (De Tusc. Quaest.
                     iii, 27).
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q38_A2-p10"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q38_A2-p11"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q38_A1.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q38_A3.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q38_A3" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q38_A2.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q38_A4.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q38_A3-p0.1">Whether pain or sorrow are assuaged by the sympathy of friends?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q38_A3-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q38_A3-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that the sorrow of sympathizing friends does not assuage our own sorrow. For contraries have contrary effects.
                     Now as Augustine says (Confess. viii, 4), "when many rejoice together, each one has more exuberant joy, for they are kindled
                     and inflamed one by the other." Therefore, in like manner, when many are sorrowful, it seems that their sorrow is greater.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q38_A3-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, friendship demands mutual love, as Augustine declares (Confess. iv, 9). But a sympathizing friend is pained at the
                     sorrow of his friend with whom he sympathizes. Consequently the pain of a sympathizing friend becomes, to the friend in sorrow,
                     a further cause of sorrow: so that, his pain being doubled his sorrow seems to increase.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q38_A3-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, sorrow arises from every evil affecting a friend, as though it affected oneself: since "a friend is one's other
                     self" (Ethic. ix, 4,9). But sorrow is an evil. Therefore the sorrow of the sympathizing friend increases the sorrow of the
                     friend with whom he sympathizes.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q38_A3-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> The Philosopher says (Ethic. ix, 11) that those who are in pain are consoled when their friends sympathize with them.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q38_A3-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> When one is in pain, it is natural that the sympathy of a friend should afford consolation: whereof the Philosopher indicates
                     a twofold reason (Ethic. ix, 11). The first is because, since sorrow has a depressing effect, it is like a weight whereof
                     we strive to unburden ourselves: so that when a man sees others saddened by his own sorrow, it seems as though others were
                     bearing the burden with him, striving, as it were, to lessen its weight; wherefore the load
                     of sorrow becomes lighter for him: something like what occurs in the carrying of bodily burdens. The second and better reason
                     is because when a man's friends condole with him, he sees that he is loved by them, and this affords him pleasure, as stated
                     above (Q[32], A[5]). Consequently, since every pleasure assuages sorrow, as stated above 
                     <a id="FS_Q38_A3-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q38_A1.html">(A[1])</a>, it follows that sorrow is mitigated by a sympathizing friend.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q38_A3-p7">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> In either case there is a proof of friendship, viz. when a man rejoices with the joyful, and when he sorrows with the sorrowful.
                     Consequently each becomes an object of pleasure by reason of its cause.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q38_A3-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> The friend's sorrow itself would be a cause of sorrow: but consideration of its cause, viz. his love, gives rise rather to
                     pleasure.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q38_A3-p9"> And this suffices for the reply to the Third Objection.</p>
                  <p id="FS_Q38_A3-p10"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q38_A3-p11"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q38_A2.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q38_A4.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q38_A4" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q38_A3.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q38_A5.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q38_A4-p0.1">Whether pain and sorrow are assuaged by the contemplation of truth?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q38_A4-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q38_A4-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that the contemplation of truth does not assuage sorrow. For it is written (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q38_A4-p2.1" href="./asv.html#Eccl.1.18" target="asv">Eccles. 1:18</a>): "He that addeth knowledge addeth also sorrow" [Vulg.: 'labor']. But knowledge pertains to the contemplation of truth. Therefore
                     the contemplation of truth does not assuage sorrow.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q38_A4-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, the contemplation of truth belongs to the speculative intellect. But "the speculative intellect is not a principle
                     of movement"; as stated in De Anima iii, 11. Therefore, since joy and sorrow are movements of the soul, it seems that the
                     contemplation of truth does not help to assuage sorrow.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q38_A4-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, the remedy for an ailment should be applied to the part which ails. But contemplation of truth is in the intellect.
                     Therefore it does not assuage bodily pain, which is in the senses.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q38_A4-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> Augustine says (Soliloq. i, 12): "It seemed to me that if the light of that truth were to dawn on our minds, either I should
                     not feel that pain, or at least that pain would seem nothing to me."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q38_A4-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> As stated above (Q[3], A[5]), the greatest of all pleasures consists in the contemplation of truth. Now every pleasure assuages
                     pain as stated above 
                     <a id="FS_Q38_A4-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q38_A1.html">(A[1])</a>: hence the contemplation of truth assuages pain or sorrow, and the more so, the more perfectly one is a lover of wisdom.
                     And therefore in the midst of tribulations men rejoice in the contemplation of Divine things and of future Happiness, according
                     to
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q38_A4-p6.2" href="./asv.html#Jas.1.2" target="asv"> James
                        1:2
                     </a>: "My brethren, count it all joy, when you shall fall into divers temptations": and, what is more, even in the midst of bodily
                     tortures this joy is found; as the "martyr Tiburtius, when he was walking barefoot on the burning coals, said: Methinks, I
                     walk on roses, in the name of Jesus Christ." [*Cf. Dominican Breviary, August 11th, commemoration of St. Tiburtius.]
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q38_A4-p7">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> "He that addeth knowledge, addeth sorrow," either on account of the difficulty and disappointment in the search for truth;
                     or because knowledge makes man acquainted with many things that are contrary to his will. Accordingly, on the part of the
                     things known, knowledge causes sorrow: but on the part of the contemplation of truth, it causes pleasure.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q38_A4-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> The speculative intellect does not move the mind on the part of the thing contemplated: but on the part of contemplation
                     itself, which is man's good and naturally pleasant to him.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q38_A4-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> In the powers of the soul there is an overflow from the higher to the lower powers: and accordingly, the pleasure of contemplation,
                     which is in the higher part, overflows so as to mitigate even that pain which is in the senses.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q38_A4-p10"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q38_A4-p11"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q38_A3.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q38_A5.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q38_A5" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q38_A4.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q39.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q38_A5-p0.1">Whether pain and sorrow are assuaged by sleep and baths?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q38_A5-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q38_A5-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that sleep and baths do not assuage sorrow. For sorrow is in the soul: whereas sleep and baths regard the body.
                     Therefore they do not conduce to the assuaging of sorrow.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q38_A5-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, the same effect does not seem to ensue from contrary causes. But these, being bodily things, are incompatible with
                     the contemplation of truth which is a cause of the assuaging of sorrow, as stated above 
                     <a id="FS_Q38_A5-p3.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q38_A4.html">(A[4])</a>. Therefore sorrow is not mitigated by the like.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q38_A5-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, sorrow and pain, in so far as they affect the body, denote a certain transmutation of the heart. But such remedies
                     as these seem to pertain to the outward senses and limbs, rather than to the interior disposition of the heart. Therefore
                     they do not assuage sorrow.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q38_A5-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> Augustine says (Confess. ix, 12): "I had heard that the bath had its name [*Balneum, from the Greek {balaneion}] . . . from
                     the fact of its driving sadness from the mind." And further on, he says: "I slept, and woke up again, and found my grief not
                     a little assuaged": and quotes the words from the hymn of Ambrose [*Cf. Sarum Breviary: First Sunday after the octave of the
                     Epiphany, Hymn for first Vespers], in which it is said that "Sleep restores the tired
                     limbs to labor, refreshes the weary mind, and banishes sorrow."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q38_A5-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> As stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q38_A5-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q37_A4.html">Q[37], A[4]</a>), sorrow, by reason of its specific nature, is repugnant to the vital movement of the body; and consequently whatever restores
                     the bodily nature to its due state of vital movement, is opposed to sorrow and assuages it. Moreover such remedies, from the
                     very fact that they bring nature back to its normal state, are causes of pleasure; for this is precisely in what pleasure
                     consists, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q38_A5-p6.2" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q31_A1.html">Q[31], A[1]</a>). Therefore, since every
                     pleasure assuages sorrow, sorrow is assuaged by such like bodily remedies.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q38_A5-p7">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> The normal disposition of the body, so far as it is felt, is itself a cause of pleasure, and consequently assuages sorrow.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q38_A5-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> As stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q38_A5-p8.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q31_A8.html">Q[31], A[8]</a>), one pleasure hinders another; and yet every pleasure assuages sorrow. Consequently it is not unreasonable that sorrow should
                     be assuaged by causes which hinder one another.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q38_A5-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> Every good disposition of the body reacts somewhat on the heart, which is the beginning and end of bodily movements, as stated
                     in De Causa Mot. Animal. xi.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q38_A5-p10"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q38_A5-p11"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q38_A4.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q39.html"></a>
               </div>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q37_A4.html"></a>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q38_A1.html"></a>
            </div>
            <div id="FS_Q39" class="div3">
               <a href="summa.FS_Q38_A5.html"></a>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q39_A1.html"></a>
               <h3 id="FS_Q39-p0.1">OF THE GOODNESS AND MALICE OF SORROW OR PAIN (FOUR ARTICLES)</h3>
               <p id="FS_Q39-p1"></p>
               <p id="FS_Q39-p2"> We must now consider the goodness and malice of pain or sorrow: under which head there are four points of inquiry:</p>
               <p id="FS_Q39-p3"> (1) Whether all sorrow is evil?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q39-p4"> (2) Whether sorrow can be a virtuous good?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q39-p5"> (3) Whether it can be a useful good?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q39-p6"> (4) Whether bodily pain is the greatest evil?</p>
               <div id="FS_Q39_A1" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q39.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q39_A2.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q39_A1-p0.1">Whether all sorrow is evil?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q39_A1-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q39_A1-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that all sorrow is evil. For Gregory of Nyssa [*Nemesius, De Nat. Hom. xix.] says: "All sorrow is evil, from
                     its very nature." Now what is naturally evil, is evil always and everywhere. Therefore, all sorrow is evil.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q39_A1-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, that which all, even the virtuous, avoid, is evil. But all avoid sorrow, even the virtuous, since as stated in Ethic.
                     vii, 11, "though the prudent man does not aim at pleasure, yet he aims at avoiding sorrow." Therefore sorrow is evil.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q39_A1-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, just as bodily evil is the object and cause of bodily pain, so spiritual evil is the object and cause of sorrow
                     in the soul. But every bodily pain is a bodily evil. Therefore every spiritual sorrow is an evil of the soul.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q39_A1-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> Sorrow for evil is contrary to pleasure in evil. But pleasure in evil is evil: wherefore in condemnation of certain men,
                     it is written (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q39_A1-p5.1" href="./asv.html#Prov.2.14" target="asv">Prov. 2:14</a>), that "they were glad when they had done evil." Therefore sorrow for evil is good.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q39_A1-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> A thing may be good or evil in two ways: first considered simply and in itself; and thus all sorrow is an evil, because the
                     mere fact of a man's appetite being uneasy about a present evil, is itself an evil, because it hinders the response of the
                     appetite in good. Secondly, a thing is said to be good or evil, on the supposition of something else: thus shame is said to
                     be good, on the supposition of a shameful deed done, as stated in Ethic. iv, 9.
                     Accordingly, supposing the presence of something saddening or painful, it is a sign of goodness if a man is in sorrow or pain
                     on account of this present evil. For if he were not to be in sorrow or pain, this could only be either because he feels it
                     not, or because he does not reckon it as something unbecoming, both of which are manifest evils. Consequently it is a condition
                     of goodness, that, supposing an evil to be present, sorrow or pain should ensue. Wherefore Augustine says (Gen. ad lit.
                     viii, 14): "It is also a good thing that he sorrows for the good he has lost: for had not some good remained in his nature,
                     he could not be punished by the loss of good." Because, however, in the science of Morals, we consider things individually---for
                     actions are concerned about individuals---that which is good on some supposition, should be considered as good: just as that
                     which is voluntary on some supposition, is judged to be voluntary, as stated in Ethic. iii, 1, and likewise above (
                     <a id="FS_Q39_A1-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q6_A6.html">Q[6], A[6]</a>).
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q39_A1-p7">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> Gregory of Nyssa [*Nemesius] is speaking of sorrow on the part of the evil that causes it, but not on the part of the subject
                     that feels and rejects the evil. And from this point of view, all shun sorrow, inasmuch as they shun evil: but they do not
                     shun the perception and rejection of evil. The same also applies to bodily pain: because the perception and rejection of bodily
                     evil is the proof of the goodness of nature.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q39_A1-p8"> This suffices for the Replies to the Second and Third Objections.</p>
                  <p id="FS_Q39_A1-p9"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q39_A1-p10"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q39.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q39_A2.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q39_A2" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q39_A1.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q39_A3.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q39_A2-p0.1">Whether sorrow can be a virtuous good?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q39_A2-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q39_A2-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that sorrow is not a virtuous good. For that which leads to hell is not a virtuous good. But, as Augustine
                     says (Gen. ad lit. xii, 33), "Jacob seems to have feared lest he should be troubled overmuch by sorrow, and so, instead of
                     entering into the rest of the blessed, be consigned to the hell of sinners." Therefore sorrow is not a virtuous good.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q39_A2-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, the virtuous good is praiseworthy and meritorious. But sorrow lessens praise or merit: for the Apostle says (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q39_A2-p3.1" href="./asv.html#iiCor.9.7" target="asv">2 Cor. 9:7</a>): "Everyone, as he hath determined in his heart, not with sadness, or of necessity." Therefore sorrow is not a virtuous good.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q39_A2-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, as Augustine says (De Civ. Dei xiv, 15), "sorrow is concerned about those things which happen against our will."
                     But not to will those things which are actually taking place, is to have a will opposed to the decree of God, to Whose providence
                     whatever is done is subject. Since, then, conformity of the human to the Divine will is a condition of the rectitude of the
                     will, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q39_A2-p4.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q19_A9.html">Q[19], A[9]</a>), it seems that sorrow is
                     incompatible with rectitude of the will, and that consequently it is not virtuous.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q39_A2-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> Whatever merits the reward of eternal life is virtuous. But such is sorrow; as is evident from
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q39_A2-p5.1" href="./asv.html#Matt.5.5" target="asv"> Mat. 5:5</a>: "Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted." Therefore sorrow is a virtuous good.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q39_A2-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> In so far as sorrow is good, it can be a virtuous good. For it has been said above 
                     <a id="FS_Q39_A2-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q39_A1.html">(A[1])</a> that sorrow is a good inasmuch as it denotes perception and rejection of evil. These two things, as regards bodily pain,
                     are a proof of the goodness of nature, to which it is due that the senses perceive, and that nature shuns, the harmful thing
                     that causes pain. As regards interior sorrow, perception of the evil is sometimes due to a right
                     judgment of reason; while the rejection of the evil is the act of the will, well disposed and detesting that evil. Now every
                     virtuous good results from these two things, the rectitude of the reason and the will. Wherefore it is evident that sorrow
                     may be a virtuous good.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q39_A2-p7">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> All the passions of the soul should be regulated according to the rule of reason, which is the root of the virtuous good;
                     but excessive sorrow, of which Augustine is speaking, oversteps this rule, and therefore it fails to be a virtuous good.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q39_A2-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> Just as sorrow for an evil arises from a right will and reason, which detest the evil, so sorrow for a good is due to a perverse
                     reason and will, which detest the good. Consequently such sorrow is an obstacle to the praise and merit of the virtuous good;
                     for instance, when a man gives an alms sorrowfully.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q39_A2-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> Some things do actually happen, not because God wills, but because He permits them to happen---such as sins. Consequently
                     a will that is opposed to sin, whether in oneself or in another, is not discordant from the Divine will. Penal evils happen
                     actually, even by God's will. But it is not necessary for the rectitude of his will, that man should will them in themselves:
                     but only that he should not revolt against the order of Divine justice, as stated
                     above (
                     <a id="FS_Q39_A2-p9.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q19_A10.html">Q[19], A[10]</a>).
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q39_A2-p10"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q39_A2-p11"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q39_A1.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q39_A3.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q39_A3" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q39_A2.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q39_A4.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q39_A3-p0.1">Whether sorrow can be a useful good?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q39_A3-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q39_A3-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that sorrow cannot be a useful good. For it is written (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q39_A3-p2.1" href="./asv.html#Sir.30.25" target="asv">Ecclus. 30:25</a>): "Sadness hath killed many, and there is no profit in it."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q39_A3-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, choice is of that which is useful to an end. But sorrow is not an object of choice; in fact, "a thing without sorrow
                     is to be chosen rather than the same thing with sorrow" (Topic. iii, 2). Therefore sorrow is not a useful good.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q39_A3-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, "Everything is for the sake of its own operation," as stated in De Coel. ii, 3. But "sorrow hinders operation,"
                     as stated in Ethic. x, 5. Therefore sorrow is not a useful good.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q39_A3-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> The wise man seeks only that which is useful. But according to
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q39_A3-p5.1" href="./asv.html#Eccl.7.5" target="asv"> Eccles. 7:5, </a> "the heart of the wise is where there is mourning, and the heart of fools where there is mirth." Therefore sorrow is useful.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q39_A3-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> A twofold movement of the appetite ensues from a present evil. One is that whereby the appetite is opposed to the present
                     evil; and, in this respect, sorrow is of no use; because that which is present, cannot be not present. The other movement
                     arises in the appetite to the effect of avoiding or expelling the saddening evil: and, in this respect, sorrow is of use,
                     if it be for something which ought to be avoided. Because there are two reasons for which it may
                     be right to avoid a thing. First, because it should be avoided in itself, on account of its being contrary to good; for instance,
                     sin. Wherefore sorrow for sin is useful as inducing a man to avoid sin: hence the Apostle says (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q39_A3-p6.1" href="./asv.html#iiCor.7.9" target="asv">2 Cor. 7:9</a>): "I am glad: not because you were made sorrowful, but because you were made sorrowful unto penance." Secondly, a thing is
                     to be avoided, not as though it were evil in itself, but because it is an occasion of evil; either through one's being
                     attached to it, and loving it too much, or through one's being thrown headlong thereby into an evil, as is evident in the
                     case of temporal goods. And, in this respect, sorrow for temporal goods may be useful; according to
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q39_A3-p6.2" href="./asv.html#Eccl.7.3" target="asv"> Eccles. 7:3</a>: "It is better to go to the house of mourning, than to the house of feasting: for in that we are put in mind of the end of
                     all."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q39_A3-p7"> Moreover, sorrow for that which ought to be avoided is always useful, since it adds another motive for avoiding it. Because
                     the very evil is in itself a thing to be avoided: while everyone avoids sorrow for its own sake, just as everyone seeks the
                     good, and pleasure in the good. Therefore just as pleasure in the good makes one seek the good more earnestly, so sorrow for
                     evil makes one avoid evil more eagerly.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q39_A3-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> This passage is to be taken as referring to excessive sorrow, which consumes the soul: for such sorrow paralyzes the soul,
                     and hinders it from shunning evil, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q39_A3-p8.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q37_A2.html">Q[37], A[2]</a>).
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q39_A3-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> Just as any object of choice becomes less eligible by reason of sorrow, so that which ought to be shunned is still more to
                     be shunned by reason of sorrow: and, in this respect, sorrow is useful.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q39_A3-p10">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> Sorrow caused by an action hinders that action: but sorrow for the cessation of an action, makes one do it more earnestly.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q39_A3-p11"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q39_A3-p12"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q39_A2.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q39_A4.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q39_A4" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q39_A3.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q40.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q39_A4-p0.1">Whether bodily pain is the greatest evil?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q39_A4-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q39_A4-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that pain is the greatest evil. Because "the worst is contrary to the best" (Ethic. viii, 10). But a certain
                     pleasure is the greatest good, viz. the pleasure of bliss. Therefore a certain pain is the greatest evil.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q39_A4-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, happiness is man's greatest good, because it is his last end. But man's Happiness consists in his "having whatever
                     he will, and in willing naught amiss," as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q39_A4-p3.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q3_A4.html">Q[3], A[4]</a>, OBJ[5];
                     <a id="FS_Q39_A4-p3.2" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q5_A8.html"> Q[5], A[8]</a>, OBJ[3]). Therefore man's greatest good consists in the fulfilment of his will. Now pain consists in something happening
                     contrary to the will, as Augustine declares (De Civ. Dei xiv, 6,15). Therefore pain
                     is man's greatest evil.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q39_A4-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, Augustine argues thus (Soliloq. i, 12): "We are composed of two parts, i.e. of a soul and a body, whereof the body
                     is the inferior. Now the sovereign good is the greatest good of the better part: while the supreme evil is the greatest evil
                     of the inferior part. But wisdom is the greatest good of the soul; while the worst thing in the body is pain. Therefore man's
                     greatest good is to be wise: while his greatest evil is to suffer pain."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q39_A4-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> Guilt is a greater evil than punishment, as was stated in the 
                     <a id="FS_Q39_A4-p5.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FP_Q48_A6.html">FP, Q[48], A[6]</a>. But sorrow or pain belongs to the punishment of sin, just as the enjoyment of changeable things is an evil of guilt. For
                     Augustine says (De Vera Relig. xii): "What is pain of the soul, except for the soul to be deprived of that which it was wont
                     to enjoy, or had hoped to enjoy? And this is all that is called evil, i.e. sin, and the punishment of sin."
                     Therefore sorrow or pain is not man's greatest evil.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q39_A4-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> It is impossible for any sorrow or pain to be man's greatest evil. For all sorrow or pain is either for something that is
                     truly evil, or for something that is apparently evil, but good in reality. Now pain or sorrow for that which is truly evil
                     cannot be the greatest evil: for there is something worse, namely, either not to reckon as evil that which is really evil,
                     or not to reject it. Again, sorrow or pain, for that which is apparently evil, but really
                     good, cannot be the greatest evil, for it would be worse to be altogether separated from that which is truly good. Hence it
                     is impossible for any sorrow or pain to be man's greatest evil.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q39_A4-p7">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> Pleasure and sorrow have two good points in common: namely, a true judgment concerning good and evil; and the right order
                     of the will in approving of good and rejecting evil. Thus it is clear that in pain or sorrow there is a good, by the removal
                     of which they become worse: and yet there is not an evil in every pleasure, by the removal of which the pleasure is better.
                     Consequently, a pleasure can be man's highest good, in the way above stated (
                     <a id="FS_Q39_A4-p7.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q34_A3.html">Q[34],
                        A[3]
                     </a>): whereas sorrow cannot be man's greatest evil.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q39_A4-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> The very fact of the will being opposed to evil is a good. And for this reason, sorrow or pain cannot be the greatest evil;
                     because it has an admixture of good.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q39_A4-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> That which harms the better thing is worse than that which harms the worse. Now a thing is called evil "because it harms,"
                     as Augustine says (Enchiridion xii). Therefore that which is an evil to the soul is a greater evil than that which is an evil
                     to the body. Therefore this argument does not prove: nor does Augustine give it as his own, but as taken from another [*Cornelius
                     Celsus].
                  </p>
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                  <p id="FS_Q39_A4-p11"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q39_A3.html"></a>
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               </div>
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               <h3 id="FS_Q40-p0.1">OF THE IRASCIBLE PASSIONS, AND FIRST, OF HOPE AND DESPAIR (EIGHT ARTICLES)</h3>
               <p id="FS_Q40-p1"></p>
               <p id="FS_Q40-p2"> We must now consider the irascible passions: (1) Hope and despair; (2) Fear and daring; (3) Anger. Under first head there
                  are eight points of inquiry:
               </p>
               <p id="FS_Q40-p3"> (1) Whether hope is the same as desire or cupidity?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q40-p4"> (2) Whether hope is in the apprehensive, or in the appetitive faculty?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q40-p5"> (3) Whether hope is in dumb animals?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q40-p6"> (4) Whether despair is contrary to hope?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q40-p7"> (5) Whether experience is a cause of hope?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q40-p8"> (6) Whether hope abounds in young men and drunkards?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q40-p9"> (7) Concerning the order of hope to love;</p>
               <p id="FS_Q40-p10"> (8) Whether love conduces to action?</p>
               <div id="FS_Q40_A1" class="div4">
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                  <h4 id="FS_Q40_A1-p0.1">Whether hope is the same as desire of cupidity?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A1-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A1-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that hope is the same as desire or cupidity. Because hope is reckoned as one of the four principal passions.
                     But Augustine in setting down the four principal passions puts cupidity in the place of hope (De Civ. Dei xiv, 3,7). Therefore
                     hope is the same as cupidity or desire.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A1-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, passions differ according to their objects. But the object of hope is the same as the object of cupidity or desire,
                     viz. the future good. Therefore hope is the same as cupidity or desire.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A1-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> If it be said that hope, in addition to desire, denotes the possibility of obtaining the future good; on the contrary, whatever
                     is accidental to the object does not make a different species of passion. But possibility of acquisition is accidental to
                     a future good, which is the object of cupidity or desire, and of hope. Therefore hope does not differ specifically from desire
                     or cupidity.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A1-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> To different powers belong different species of passions. But hope is in the irascible power; whereas desire or cupidity
                     is in the concupiscible. Therefore hope differs specifically from desire or cupidity.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A1-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> The species of a passion is taken from the object. Now, in the object of hope, we may note four conditions. First, that it
                     is something good; since, properly speaking, hope regards only the good; in this respect, hope differs from fear, which regards
                     evil. Secondly, that it is future; for hope does not regard that which is present and already possessed: in this respect,
                     hope differs from joy which regards a present good. Thirdly, that it must be something
                     arduous and difficult to obtain, for we do not speak of any one hoping for trifles, which are in one's power to have at any
                     time: in this respect, hope differs from desire or cupidity, which regards the future good absolutely: wherefore it belongs
                     to the concupiscible, while hope belongs to the irascible faculty. Fourthly, that this difficult thing is something possible
                     to obtain: for one does not hope for that which one cannot get at all: and, in this respect, hope differs from despair. It
                     is
                     therefore evident that hope differs from desire, as the irascible passions differ from the concupiscible. For this reason,
                     moreover, hope presupposes desire: just as all irascible passions presuppose the passions of the concupiscible faculty, as
                     stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q40_A1-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q25_A1.html">Q[25], A[1]</a>).
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A1-p7">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> Augustine mentions desire instead of hope, because each regards future good; and because the good which is not arduous is
                     reckoned as nothing: thus implying that desire seems to tend chiefly to the arduous good, to which hope tends likewise.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A1-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> The object of hope is the future good considered, not absolutely, but as arduous and difficult of attainment, as stated above.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A1-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> The object of hope adds not only possibility to the object of desire, but also difficulty: and this makes hope belong to
                     another power, viz. the irascible, which regards something difficult, as stated in the 
                     <a id="FS_Q40_A1-p9.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FP_Q81_A2.html">FP, Q[81], A[2]</a>. Moreover, possibility and impossibility are not altogether accidental to the object of the appetitive power: because the
                     appetite is a principle of movement; and nothing is moved to anything except under
                     the aspect of being possible; for no one is moved to that which he reckons impossible to get. Consequently hope differs from
                     despair according to the difference of possible and impossible.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A1-p10"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A1-p11"></p>
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                  <h4 id="FS_Q40_A2-p0.1">Whether hope is in the apprehensive or in the appetitive power?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A2-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A2-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that hope belongs to the cognitive power. Because hope, seemingly, is a kind of awaiting; for the Apostle says
                     (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q40_A2-p2.1" href="./asv.html#Rom.8.25" target="asv">Rom. 8:25</a>): "If we hope for that which we see not; we wait for it with patience." But awaiting seems to belong to the cognitive power,
                     which we exercise by "looking out." Therefore hope belongs to the cognitive power.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A2-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, apparently hope is the same as confidence; hence when a man hopes he is said to be confident, as though to hope
                     and to be confident were the same thing. But confidence, like faith, seems to belong to the cognitive power. Therefore hope
                     does too.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A2-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, certainty is a property of the cognitive power. But certainty is ascribed to hope. Therefore hope belongs to the
                     cognitive power.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A2-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> Hope regards good, as stated above 
                     <a id="FS_Q40_A2-p5.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q40_A1.html">(A[1])</a>. Now good, as such, is not the object of the cognitive, but of the appetitive power. Therefore hope belongs, not to the cognitive,
                     but to the appetitive power.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A2-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> Since hope denotes a certain stretching out of the appetite towards good, it evidently belongs to the appetitive power; since
                     movement towards things belongs properly to the appetite: whereas the action of the cognitive power is accomplished not by
                     the movement of the knower towards things, but rather according as the things known are in the knower. But since the cognitive
                     power moves the appetite, by presenting its object to it; there arise in the appetite
                     various movements according to various aspects of the apprehended object. For the apprehension of good gives rise to one kind
                     of movement in the appetite, while the apprehension of evil gives rise to another: in like manner various movements arise
                     from the apprehension of something present and of something future; of something considered absolutely, and of something considered
                     as arduous; of something possible, and of something impossible. And accordingly hope is a movement of the appetitive
                     power ensuing from the apprehension of a future good, difficult but possible to obtain; namely, a stretching forth of the
                     appetite to such a good.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A2-p7">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> Since hope regards a possible good, there arises in man a twofold movement of hope; for a thing may be possible to him in
                     two ways, viz. by his own power, or by another's. Accordingly when a man hopes to obtain something by his own power, he is
                     not said to wait for it, but simply to hope for it. But, properly speaking, he is said to await that which he hopes to get
                     by another's help as though to await [exspectare] implied keeping one's eyes on another
                     [ex alio spectare], in so far as the apprehensive power, by going ahead, not only keeps its eye on the good which man intends
                     to get, but also on the thing by whose power he hopes to get it; according to
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q40_A2-p7.1" href="./asv.html#Sir.51.10" target="asv"> Ecclus. 51:10, </a> "I looked for the succor of men." Wherefore the movement of hope is sometimes called expectation, on account of the preceding
                     inspection of the cognitive power.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A2-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> When a man desires a thing and reckons that he can get it, he believes that he can get it, he believes that he will get it;
                     and from this belief which precedes in the cognitive power, the ensuing movement in the appetite is called confidence. Because
                     the movement of the appetite takes its name from the knowledge that precedes it, as an effect from a cause which is better
                     known; for the apprehensive power knows its own act better than that of the
                     appetite.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A2-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> Certainty is ascribed to the movement, not only of the sensitive, but also of the natural appetite; thus we say that a stone
                     is certain to tend downwards. This is owing to the inerrancy which the movement of the sensitive or even natural appetite
                     derives from the certainty of the knowledge that precedes it.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A2-p10"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A2-p11"></p>
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                  <h4 id="FS_Q40_A3-p0.1">Whether hope is in dumb animals?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A3-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A3-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that there is no hope in dumb animals. Because hope is for some future good, as Damascene says (De Fide Orth.
                     ii, 12). But knowledge of the future is not in the competency of dumb animals, whose knowledge is confined to the senses and
                     does not extend to the future. Therefore there is no hope in dumb animals.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A3-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, the object of hope is a future good, possible of attainment. But possible and impossible are differences of the
                     true and the false, which are only in the mind, as the Philosopher states (Metaph. vi, 4). Therefore there is no hope in dumb
                     animals, since they have no mind.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A3-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, Augustine says (Gen. ad lit. ix, 14) that "animals are moved by the things that they see." But hope is of things
                     unseen: "for what a man seeth, why doth he hope for?" (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q40_A3-p4.1" href="./asv.html#Rom.8.24" target="asv">Rom. 8:24</a>). Therefore there is no hope in dumb animals.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A3-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> Hope is an irascible passion. But the irascible faculty is in dumb animals. Therefore hope is also.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A3-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> The internal passions of animals can be gathered from their outward movements: from which it is clear that hope is in dumb
                     animals. For if a dog see a hare, or a hawk see a bird, too far off, it makes no movement towards it, as having no hope to
                     catch it: whereas, if it be near, it makes a movement towards it, as being in hopes of catching it. Because as stated above
                     (
                     <a id="FS_Q40_A3-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q1_A2.html">Q[1], A[2]</a>;
                     <a id="FS_Q40_A3-p6.2" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q26_A1.html"> Q[26], A[1]</a>;
                     <a id="FS_Q40_A3-p6.3" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q35_A1.html"> Q[35], A[1]</a>), the sensitive appetite of dumb animals, and likewise the natural appetite of insensible things, result from the apprehension
                     of an intellect, just as the appetite of the intellectual nature, which is called the will. But there is a difference, in
                     that the will is moved by an apprehension of the intellect in the same subject; whereas the movement of the natural appetite
                     results from the apprehension of the separate Intellect, Who is the Author of nature; as
                     does also the sensitive appetite of dumb animals, who act from a certain natural instinct. Consequently, in the actions of
                     irrational animals and of other natural things, we observe a procedure which is similar to that which we observe in the actions
                     of art: and in this way hope and despair are in dumb animals.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A3-p7">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> Although dumb animals do not know the future, yet an animal is moved by its natural instinct to something future, as though
                     it foresaw the future. Because this instinct is planted in them by the Divine Intellect that foresees the future.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A3-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> The object of hope is not the possible as differentiating the true, for thus the possible ensues from the relation of a predicate
                     to a subject. The object of hope is the possible as compared to a power. For such is the division of the possible given in
                     Metaph. v, 12, i.e. into the two kinds we have just mentioned.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A3-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> Although the thing which is future does not come under the object of sight; nevertheless through seeing something present,
                     an animal's appetite is moved to seek or avoid something future.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A3-p10"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A3-p11"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q40_A2.html"></a>
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               </div>
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                  <a href="summa.FS_Q40_A3.html"></a>
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                  <h4 id="FS_Q40_A4-p0.1">Whether despair is contrary to hope?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A4-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A4-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that despair is not contrary to hope. Because "to one thing there is one contrary" (Metaph. x, 5). But fear
                     is contrary to hope. Therefore despair is not contrary to hope.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A4-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, contraries seem to bear on the same thing. But hope and despair do not bear on the same thing: since hope regards
                     the good, whereas despair arises from some evil that is in the way of obtaining good. Therefore hope is not contrary to despair.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A4-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, movement is contrary to movement: while repose is in opposition to movement as a privation thereof. But despair
                     seems to imply immobility rather than movement. Therefore it is not contrary to hope, which implies movement of stretching
                     out towards the hoped-for good.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A4-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> The very name of despair [desperatio] implies that it is contrary to hope [spes].
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A4-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> As stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q40_A4-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q23_A2.html">Q[23], A[2]</a>), there is a twofold contrariety of movements. One is in respect of approach to contrary terms: and this contrariety alone
                     is to be found in the concupiscible passions, for instance between love and hatred. The other is according to approach and
                     withdrawal with regard to the same term; and is to be found in the irascible passions, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q40_A4-p6.2" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q23_A2.html">Q[23], A[2]</a>). Now the object of
                     hope, which is the arduous good, has the character of a principle of attraction, if it be considered in the light of something
                     attainable; and thus hope tends thereto, for it denotes a kind of approach. But in so far as it is considered as unobtainable,
                     it has the character of a principle of repulsion, because, as stated in Ethic. iii, 3, "when men come to an impossibility
                     they disperse." And this is how despair stands in regard to this object, wherefore it implies a movement of withdrawal: and
                     consequently it is contrary to hope, as withdrawal is to approach.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A4-p7">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> Fear is contrary to hope, because their objects, i.e. good and evil, are contrary: for this contrariety is found in the irascible
                     passions, according as they ensue from the passions of the concupiscible. But despair is contrary to hope, only by contrariety
                     of approach and withdrawal.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A4-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> Despair does not regard evil as such; sometimes however it regards evil accidentally, as making the difficult good impossible
                     to obtain. But it can arise from the mere excess of good.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A4-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> Despair implies not only privation of hope, but also a recoil from the thing desired, by reason of its being esteemed impossible
                     to get. Hence despair, like hope, presupposes desire; because we neither hope for nor despair of that which we do not desire
                     to have. For this reason, too, each of them regards the good, which is the object of desire.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A4-p10"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A4-p11"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q40_A3.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q40_A5.html"></a>
               </div>
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                  <h4 id="FS_Q40_A5-p0.1">Whether experience is a cause of hope?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A5-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A5-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that experience is not a cause of hope. Because experience belongs to the cognitive power; wherefore the Philosopher
                     says (Ethic. ii, 1) that "intellectual virtue needs experience and time." But hope is not in the cognitive power, but in the
                     appetite, as stated above 
                     <a id="FS_Q40_A5-p2.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q40_A2.html">(A[2])</a>. Therefore experience is not a cause of hope.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A5-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, the Philosopher says (Rhet. ii, 13) that "the old are slow to hope, on account of their experience"; whence it seems
                     to follow that experience causes want of hope. But the same cause is not productive of opposites. Therefore experience is
                     not a cause of hope.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A5-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, the Philosopher says (De Coel. ii, 5) that "to have something to say about everything, without leaving anything
                     out, is sometimes a proof of folly." But to attempt everything seems to point to great hopes; while folly arises from inexperience.
                     Therefore inexperience, rather than experience, seems to be a cause of hope.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A5-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> The Philosopher says (Ethic. iii, 8) "some are hopeful, through having been victorious often and over many opponents": which
                     seems to pertain to experience. Therefore experience is a cause of hope.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A5-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> As stated above 
                     <a id="FS_Q40_A5-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q40_A1.html">(A[1])</a>, the object of hope is a future good, difficult but possible to obtain. Consequently a thing may be a cause of hope, either
                     because it makes something possible to a man: or because it makes him think something possible. In the first way hope is caused
                     by everything that increases a man's power; e.g. riches, strength, and, among others, experience: since by experience man
                     acquires the faculty of doing something
                     easily, and the result of this is hope. Wherefore Vegetius says (De Re Milit. i): "No one fears to do that which he is sure
                     of having learned well."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A5-p7"> In the second way, hope is caused by everything that makes man think that he can obtain something: and thus both teaching
                     and persuasion may be a cause of hope. And then again experience is a cause of hope, in so far as it makes him reckon something
                     possible, which before his experience he looked upon as impossible. However, in this way, experience can cause a lack of hope:
                     because just as it makes a man think possible what he had previously thought impossible; so, conversely,
                     experience makes a man consider as impossible that which hitherto he had thought possible. Accordingly experience causes hope
                     in two ways, despair in one way: and for this reason we may say rather that it causes hope.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A5-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> Experience in matters pertaining to action not only produces knowledge; it also causes a certain habit, by reason of custom,
                     which renders the action easier. Moreover, the intellectual virtue itself adds to the power of acting with ease: because it
                     shows something to be possible; and thus is a cause of hope.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A5-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> The old are wanting in hope because of their experience, in so far as experience makes them think something impossible. Hence
                     he adds (Rhet. ii, 13) that "many evils have befallen them."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A5-p10">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> Folly and inexperience can be a cause of hope accidentally as it were, by removing the knowledge which would help one to
                     judge truly a thing to be impossible. Wherefore inexperience is a cause of hope, for the same reason as experience causes
                     lack of hope.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A5-p11"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A5-p12"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q40_A4.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q40_A6.html"></a>
               </div>
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                  <a href="summa.FS_Q40_A5.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q40_A7.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q40_A6-p0.1">Whether hope abounds in young men and drunkards?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A6-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A6-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that youth and drunkenness are not causes of hope. Because hope implies certainty and steadiness; so much so
                     that it is compared to an anchor (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q40_A6-p2.1" href="./asv.html#Heb.6.19" target="asv">Heb. 6:19</a>). But young men and drunkards are wanting in steadiness; since their minds are easily changed. Therefore youth and drunkenness
                     are not causes of hope.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A6-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, as stated above 
                     <a id="FS_Q40_A6-p3.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q40_A5.html">(A[5])</a>, the cause of hope is chiefly whatever increases one's power. But youth and drunkenness are united to weakness. Therefore
                     they are not causes of hope.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A6-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, experience is a cause of hope, as stated above 
                     <a id="FS_Q40_A6-p4.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q40_A5.html">(A[5])</a>. But youth lacks experience. Therefore it is not a cause of hope.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A6-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> The Philosopher says (Ethic. iii, 8) that "drunken men are hopeful": and (Rhet. ii, 12) that "the young are full of hope."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A6-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> Youth is a cause of hope for three reasons, as the Philosopher states in Rhet. ii, 12: and these three reasons may be gathered
                     from the three conditions of the good which is the object of hope---namely, that it is future, arduous and possible, as stated
                     above 
                     <a id="FS_Q40_A6-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q40_A1.html">(A[1])</a>. For youth has much of the future before it, and little of the past: and therefore since memory is of the past, and hope
                     of the future, it has little to remember and
                     lives very much in hope. Again, youths, on account of the heat of their nature, are full of spirit; so that their heart expands:
                     and it is owing to the heart being expanded that one tends to that which is arduous; wherefore youths are spirited and hopeful.
                     Likewise they who have not suffered defeat, nor had experience of obstacles to their efforts, are prone to count a thing possible
                     to them. Wherefore youths, through inexperience of obstacles and of their own shortcomings, easily count a thing
                     possible; and consequently are of good hope. Two of these causes are also in those who are in drink---viz. heat and high spirits,
                     on account of wine, and heedlessness of dangers and shortcomings. For the same reason all foolish and thoughtless persons
                     attempt everything and are full of hope.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A6-p7">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> Although youths and men in drink lack steadiness in reality, yet they are steady in their own estimation, for they think
                     that they will steadily obtain that which they hope for.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A6-p8"> In like manner, in reply to the Second Objection, we must observe that young people and men in drink are indeed unsteady
                     in reality: but, in their own estimation, they are capable, for they know not their shortcomings.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A6-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> Not only experience, but also lack of experience, is, in some way, a cause of hope, as explained above (A[5], ad 3).
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A6-p10"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A6-p11"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q40_A5.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q40_A7.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q40_A7" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q40_A6.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q40_A8.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q40_A7-p0.1">Whether hope is a cause of love?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A7-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A7-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that hope is not a cause of love. Because, according to Augustine (De Civ. Dei xiv, 7,9), love is the first
                     of the soul's emotions. But hope is an emotion of the soul. Therefore love precedes hope, and consequently hope does not cause
                     love.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A7-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, desire precedes hope. But desire is caused by love, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q40_A7-p3.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q25_A2.html">Q[25], A[2]</a>). Therefore hope, too, follows love, and consequently is not its cause.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A7-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, hope causes pleasure, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q40_A7-p4.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q32_A3.html">Q[32], A[3]</a>). But pleasure is only of the good that is loved. Therefore love precedes hope.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A7-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> The gloss commenting on
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q40_A7-p5.1" href="./asv.html#Matt.1.2" target="asv"> Mat. 1:2, </a> "Abraham begot Isaac, and Isaac begot Jacob," says, i.e. "faith begets hope, and hope begets charity." But charity is love.
                     Therefore love is caused by hope.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A7-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> Hope can regard two things. For it regards as its object, the good which one hopes for. But since the good we hope for is
                     something difficult but possible to obtain; and since it happens sometimes that what is difficult becomes possible to us,
                     not through ourselves but through others; hence it is that hope regards also that by which something becomes possible to us.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A7-p7"> In so far, then, as hope regards the good we hope to get, it is caused by love: since we do not hope save for that which
                     we desire and love. But in so far as hope regards one through whom something becomes possible to us, love is caused by hope,
                     and not vice versa. Because by the very fact that we hope that good will accrue to us through someone, we are moved towards
                     him as to our own good; and thus we begin to love him. Whereas from the fact that we love someone we do not hope
                     in him, except accidentally, that is, in so far as we think that he returns our love. Wherefore the fact of being loved by
                     another makes us hope in him; but our love for him is caused by the hope we have in him.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A7-p8"> Wherefore the Replies to the Objections are evident.</p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A7-p9"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A7-p10"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q40_A6.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q40_A8.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q40_A8" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q40_A7.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q41.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q40_A8-p0.1">Whether hope is a help or a hindrance to action?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A8-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A8-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that hope is not a help but a hindrance to action. Because hope implies security. But security begets negligence
                     which hinders action. Therefore hope is a hindrance to action.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A8-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, sorrow hinders action, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q40_A8-p3.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q37_A3.html">Q[37], A[3]</a>). But hope sometimes causes sorrow: for it is written (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q40_A8-p3.2" href="./asv.html#Prov.13.12" target="asv">Prov. 13:12</a>): "Hope that is deferred afflicteth the soul." Therefore hope hinders action.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A8-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, despair is contrary to hope, as stated above 
                     <a id="FS_Q40_A8-p4.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q40_A4.html">(A[4])</a>. But despair, especially in matters of war, conduces to action; for it is written (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q40_A8-p4.2" href="./asv.html#iiKgdms.2.26" target="asv">2 Kings 2:26</a>), that "it is dangerous to drive people to despair." Therefore hope has a contrary effect, namely, by hindering action.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A8-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> It is written (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q40_A8-p5.1" href="./asv.html#iCor.9.10" target="asv">1 Cor. 9:10</a>) that "he that plougheth should plough in hope . . . to receive fruit": and the same applies to all other actions.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A8-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> Hope of its very nature is a help to action by making it more intense: and this for two reasons. First, by reason of its
                     object, which is a good, difficult but possible. For the thought of its being difficult arouses our attention; while the thought
                     that it is possible is no drag on our effort. Hence it follows that by reason of hope man is intent on his action. Secondly,
                     on account of its effect. Because hope, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q40_A8-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q32_A3.html">Q[32],
                        A[3]
                     </a>), causes pleasure; which is a help to action, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q40_A8-p6.2" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q33_A4.html">Q[33], A[4]</a>). Therefore hope is conducive to action.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A8-p7">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> Hope regards a good to be obtained; security regards an evil to be avoided. Wherefore security seems to be contrary to fear
                     rather than to belong to hope. Yet security does not beget negligence, save in so far as it lessens the idea of difficulty:
                     whereby it also lessens the character of hope: for the things in which a man fears no hindrance, are no longer looked upon
                     as difficult.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A8-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> Hope of itself causes pleasure; it is by accident that it causes sorrow, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q40_A8-p8.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q32_A3.html">Q[32], A[3]</a>, ad 2).
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A8-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> Despair threatens danger in war, on account of a certain hope that attaches to it. For they who despair of flight, strive
                     less to fly, but hope to avenge their death: and therefore in this hope they fight the more bravely, and consequently prove
                     dangerous to the foe.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A8-p10"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q40_A8-p11"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q40_A7.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q41.html"></a>
               </div>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q39_A4.html"></a>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q40_A1.html"></a>
            </div>
            <div id="FS_Q41" class="div3">
               <a href="summa.FS_Q40_A8.html"></a>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q41_A1.html"></a>
               <h3 id="FS_Q41-p0.1">OF FEAR, IN ITSELF (FOUR ARTICLES)</h3>
               <p id="FS_Q41-p1"></p>
               <p id="FS_Q41-p2"> We must now consider, in the first place, fear; and, secondly, daring. With regard to fear, four things must be considered:
                  (1) Fear, in itself; (2) Its object; (3) Its cause; (4) Its effect. Under the first head there are four points of inquiry:
               </p>
               <p id="FS_Q41-p3"> (1) Whether fear is a passion of the soul?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q41-p4"> (2) Whether fear is a special passion?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q41-p5"> (3) Whether there is a natural fear?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q41-p6"> (4) Of the species of fear.</p>
               <div id="FS_Q41_A1" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q41.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q41_A2.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q41_A1-p0.1">Whether fear is a passion of the soul?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q41_A1-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q41_A1-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that fear is not a passion of the soul. For Damascene says (De Fide Orth. iii, 23) that "fear is a power, by
                     way of {systole}"---i.e. of contraction---"desirous of vindicating nature." But no virtue is a passion, as is proved in Ethic.
                     ii, 5. Therefore fear is not a passion.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q41_A1-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, every passion is an effect due to the presence of an agent. But fear is not of something present, but of something
                     future, as Damascene declares (De Fide Orth. ii, 12). Therefore fear is not a passion.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q41_A1-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, every passion of the soul is a movement of the sensitive appetite, in consequence of an apprehension of the senses.
                     But sense apprehends, not the future but the present. Since, then, fear is of future evil, it seems that it is not a passion
                     of the soul.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q41_A1-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> Augustine (De Civ. Dei xiv, 5, seqq.) reckons fear among the other passions of the soul.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q41_A1-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> Among the other passions of the soul, after sorrow, fear chiefly has the character of passion. For as we have stated above
                     (Q[22] ), the notion of passion implies first of all a movement of a passive power---i.e. of a power whose object is compared
                     to it as its active principle: since passion is the effect of an agent. In this way, both "to feel" and "to understand" are
                     passions. Secondly, more properly speaking, passion is a movement of the appetitive
                     power; and more properly still, it is a movement of an appetitive power that has a bodily organ, such movement being accompanied
                     by a bodily transmutation. And, again, most properly those movements are called passions, which imply some deterioration.
                     Now it is evident that fear, since it regards evil, belongs to the appetitive power, which of itself regards good and evil.
                     Moreover, it belongs to the sensitive appetite: for it is accompanied by a certain transmutation---i.e. contraction---as
                     Damascene says (Cf. OBJ 1). Again, it implies relation to evil as overcoming, so to speak, some particular good. Wherefore
                     it has most properly the character of passion; less, however, than sorrow, which regards the present evil: because fear regards
                     future evil, which is not so strong a motive as present evil.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q41_A1-p7">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> Virtue denotes a principle of action: wherefore, in so far as the interior movements of the appetitive faculty are principles
                     of external action, they are called virtues. But the Philosopher denies that passion is a virtue by way of habit.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q41_A1-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> Just as the passion of a natural body is due to the bodily presence of an agent, so is the passion of the soul due to the
                     agent being present to the soul, although neither corporally nor really present: that is to say, in so far as the evil which
                     is really future, is present in the apprehension of the soul.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q41_A1-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> The senses do not apprehend the future: but from apprehending the present, an animal is moved by natural instinct to hope
                     for a future good, or to fear a future evil.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q41_A1-p10"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q41_A1-p11"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q41.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q41_A2.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q41_A2" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q41_A1.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q41_A3.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q41_A2-p0.1">Whether fear is a special passion?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q41_A2-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q41_A2-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that fear is not a special passion. For Augustine says (QQ. 83, qu. 33) that "the man who is not distraught
                     by fear, is neither harassed by desire, nor wounded by sickness"---i.e. sorrow---"nor tossed about in transports of empty
                     joys." Wherefore it seems that, if fear be set aside, all the other passions are removed. Therefore fear is not a special
                     but a general passion.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q41_A2-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, the Philosopher says (Ethic. vi, 2) that "pursuit and avoidance in the appetite are what affirmation and denial
                     are in the intellect." But denial is nothing special in the intellect, as neither is affirmation, but something common to
                     many. Therefore neither is avoidance anything special in the appetite. But fear is nothing but a kind of avoidance of evil.
                     Therefore it is not a special passion.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q41_A2-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, if fear were a special passion, it would be chiefly in the irascible part. But fear is also in the concupiscible:
                     since the Philosopher says (Rhet. ii, 5) that "fear is a kind of sorrow"; and Damascene says (De Fide Orth. iii, 23) that
                     fear is "a power of desire": and both sorrow and desire are in the concupiscible faculty, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q41_A2-p4.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q23_A4.html">Q[23], A[4]</a>). Therefore fear is not a special passion, since it belongs to different
                     powers.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q41_A2-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> Fear is condivided with the other passions of the soul, as is clear from Damascene (De Fide Orth. ii, 12,15).
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q41_A2-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> The passions of the soul derive their species from their objects: hence that is a special passion, which has a special object.
                     Now fear has a special object, as hope has. For just as the object of hope is a future good, difficult but possible to obtain;
                     so the object of fear is a future evil, difficult and irresistible. Consequently fear is a special passion of the soul.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q41_A2-p7">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> All the passions of the soul arise from one source, viz. love, wherein they are connected with one another. By reason of
                     this connection, when fear is put aside, the other passions of the soul are dispersed; not, however, as though it were a general
                     passion.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q41_A2-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> Not every avoidance in the appetite is fear, but avoidance of a special object, as stated. Wherefore, though avoidance be
                     something common, yet fear is a special passion.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q41_A2-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> Fear is nowise in the concupiscible: for it regards evil, not absolutely, but as difficult or arduous, so as to be almost
                     unavoidable. But since the irascible passions arise from the passions of the concupiscible faculty, and terminate therein,
                     as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q41_A2-p9.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q25_A1.html">Q[25], A[1]</a>); hence it is that what belongs to the concupiscible is ascribed to fear. For fear is called sorrow, in so far as the object
                     of fear causes sorrow when
                     present: wherefore the Philosopher says (Rhet. ii, 5) that fear arises "from the representation of a future evil which is
                     either corruptive or painful." In like manner desire is ascribed by Damascene to fear, because just as hope arises from the
                     desire of good, so fear arises from avoidance of evil; while avoidance of evil arises from the desire of good, as is evident
                     from what has been said above (
                     <a id="FS_Q41_A2-p9.2" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q25_A2.html">Q[25], A[2]</a>;
                     <a id="FS_Q41_A2-p9.3" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q29_A2.html"> Q[29], A[2]</a>;
                     <a id="FS_Q41_A2-p9.4" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q36_A2.html">
                        Q[36], A[2]
                     </a>).
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q41_A2-p10"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q41_A2-p11"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q41_A1.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q41_A3.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q41_A3" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q41_A2.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q41_A4.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q41_A3-p0.1">Whether there is a natural fear?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q41_A3-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q41_A3-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that there is a natural fear. For Damascene says (De Fide Orth. iii, 23) that "there is a natural fear, through
                     the soul refusing to be severed from the body."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q41_A3-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, fear arises from love, as stated above (A[2], ad 1). But there is a natural love, as Dionysius says (Div. Nom. iv).
                     Therefore there is also a natural fear.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q41_A3-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, fear is opposed to hope, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q41_A3-p4.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q40_A4.html">Q[40], A[4]</a>, ad 1). But there is a hope of nature, as is evident from
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q41_A3-p4.2" href="./asv.html#Rom.4.18" target="asv"> Rom. 4:18, </a> where it is said of Abraham that "against hope" of nature, "he believed in hope" of grace. Therefore there is also a fear
                     of nature.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q41_A3-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> That which is natural is common to things animate and inanimate. But fear is not in things inanimate. Therefore there is
                     no natural fear.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q41_A3-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> A movement is said to be natural, because nature inclines thereto. Now this happens in two ways. First, so that it is entirely
                     accomplished by nature, without any operation of the apprehensive faculty: thus to have an upward movement is natural to fire,
                     and to grow is the natural movement of animals and plants. Secondly, a movement is said to be natural, if nature inclines
                     thereto, though it be accomplished by the apprehensive faculty alone: since, as stated
                     above (
                     <a id="FS_Q41_A3-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q10_A1.html">Q[10], A[1]</a>), the movements of the cognitive and appetitive faculties are reducible to nature as to their first principle. In this way,
                     even the acts of the apprehensive power, such as understanding, feeling, and remembering, as well as the movements of the
                     animal appetite, are sometimes said to be natural.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q41_A3-p7"> And in this sense we may say that there is a natural fear; and it is distinguished from non-natural fear, by reason of the
                     diversity of its object. For, as the Philosopher says (Rhet. ii, 5), there is a fear of "corruptive evil," which nature shrinks
                     from on account of its natural desire to exist; and such fear is said to be natural. Again, there is a fear of "painful evil,"
                     which is repugnant not to nature, but to the desire of the appetite; and such fear is not natural. In
                     this sense we have stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q41_A3-p7.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q26_A1.html">Q[26], A[1]</a>;
                     <a id="FS_Q41_A3-p7.2" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q30_A3.html"> Q[30], A[3]</a>;
                     <a id="FS_Q41_A3-p7.3" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q31_A7.html"> Q[31], A[7]</a>) that love, desire, and pleasure are divisible into natural and non-natural.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q41_A3-p8"> But in the first sense of the word "natural," we must observe that certain passions of the soul are sometimes said to be
                     natural, as love, desire, and hope; whereas the others cannot be called natural. The reason of this is because love and hatred,
                     desire and avoidance, imply a certain inclination to pursue what is good or to avoid what is evil; which inclination is to
                     be found in the natural appetite also. Consequently there is a natural love; while we may also speak of desire
                     and hope as being even in natural things devoid of knowledge. On the other hand the other passions of the soul denote certain
                     movements, whereto the natural inclination is nowise sufficient. This is due either to the fact that perception or knowledge
                     is essential to these passions (thus we have said
                     <a id="FS_Q41_A3-p8.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q31_A1.html">, Q[31], AA[1]</a>,3;
                     <a id="FS_Q41_A3-p8.2" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q35_A1.html"> Q[35], A[1]</a>, that apprehension is a necessary condition of pleasure and sorrow), wherefore things devoid of knowledge cannot be
                     said to take pleasure or to be sorrowful: or else it is because such like movements are contrary to the very nature of natural
                     inclination: for instance, despair flies from good on account of some difficulty; and fear shrinks from repelling a contrary
                     evil; both of which are contrary to the inclination of nature. Wherefore such like passions are in no way ascribed to inanimate
                     beings.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q41_A3-p9"> Thus the Replies to the Objections are evident.</p>
                  <p id="FS_Q41_A3-p10"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q41_A3-p11"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q41_A2.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q41_A4.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q41_A4" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q41_A3.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q42.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q41_A4-p0.1">Whether the species of fear is suitably assigned?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q41_A4-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q41_A4-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that six species of fear are unsuitably assigned by Damascene (De Fide Orth. ii, 15); namely, "laziness, shamefacedness,
                     shame, amazement, stupor, and anxiety." Because, as the Philosopher says (Rhet. ii, 5), "fear regards a saddening evil." Therefore
                     the species of fear should correspond to the species of sorrow. Now there are four species of sorrow, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q41_A4-p2.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q35_A8.html">Q[35], A[8]</a>). Therefore there should only be four
                     species of fear corresponding to them.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q41_A4-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, that which consists in an action of our own is in our power. But fear regards an evil that surpasses our power,
                     as stated above 
                     <a id="FS_Q41_A4-p3.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q41_A2.html">(A[2])</a>. Therefore laziness, shamefacedness, and shame, which regard our own actions, should not be reckoned as species of fear.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q41_A4-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, fear is of the future, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q41_A4-p4.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q41_A1.html">AA[1]</a>, 2). But "shame regards a disgraceful deed already done," as Gregory of Nyssa [*Nemesius, De Nat. Hom. xx.] says. Therefore
                     shame is not a species of fear.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q41_A4-p5">
                     <b>Objection 4:</b> Further, fear is only of evil. But amazement and stupor regard great and unwonted things, whether good or evil. Therefore
                     amazement and stupor are not species of fear.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q41_A4-p6">
                     <b>Objection 5:</b> Further, Philosophers have been led by amazement to seek the truth, as stated in the beginning of Metaphysics. But fear leads
                     to flight rather than to search. Therefore amazement is not a species of fear.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q41_A4-p7"> On the contrary suffices the authority of Damascene and Gregory of Nyssa [*Nemesius] (Cf. OBJ 1,3).</p>
                  <p id="FS_Q41_A4-p8">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> As stated above 
                     <a id="FS_Q41_A4-p8.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q41_A2.html">(A[2])</a>, fear regards a future evil which surpasses the power of him that fears, so that it is irresistible. Now man's evil, like
                     his good, may be considered either in his action or in external things. In his action he has a twofold evil to fear. First,
                     there is the toil that burdens his nature: and hence arises "laziness," as when a man shrinks from work for fear of too much
                     toil. Secondly, there is the disgrace which
                     damages him in the opinion of others. And thus, if disgrace is feared in a deed that is yet to be done, there is "shamefacedness";
                     if, however, it be a deed already done, there is "shame."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q41_A4-p9"> On the other hand, the evil that consists in external things may surpass man's faculty of resistance in three ways. First
                     by reason of its magnitude; when, that is to say, a man considers some great evil the outcome of which he is unable to gauge:
                     and then there is "amazement." Secondly, by reason of its being unwonted; because, to wit, some unwonted evil arises before
                     us, and on that account is great in our estimation: and then there is "stupor," which is caused by the
                     representation of something unwonted. Thirdly, by reason of its being unforeseen: thus future misfortunes are feared, and
                     fear of this kind is called "anxiety."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q41_A4-p10">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> Those species of sorrow given above are not derived from the diversity of objects, but from the diversity of effects, and
                     for certain special reasons. Consequently there is no need for those species of sorrow to correspond with these species of
                     fear, which are derived from the proper division of the object of fear itself.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q41_A4-p11">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> A deed considered as being actually done, is in the power of the doer. But it is possible to take into consideration something
                     connected with the deed, and surpassing the faculty of the doer, for which reason he shrinks from the deed. It is in this
                     sense that laziness, shamefacedness, and shame are reckoned as species of fear.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q41_A4-p12">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> The past deed may be the occasion of fear of future reproach or disgrace: and in this sense shame is a species of fear.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q41_A4-p13">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 4:</b> Not every amazement and stupor are species of fear, but that amazement which is caused by a great evil, and that stupor which
                     arises from an unwonted evil. Or else we may say that, just as laziness shrinks from the toil of external work, so amazement
                     and stupor shrink from the difficulty of considering a great and unwonted thing, whether good or evil: so that amazement and
                     stupor stand in relation to the act of the intellect, as laziness does to
                     external work.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q41_A4-p14">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 5:</b> He who is amazed shrinks at present from forming a judgment of that which amazes him, fearing to fall short of the truth,
                     but inquires afterwards: whereas he who is overcome by stupor fears both to judge at present, and to inquire afterwards. Wherefore
                     amazement is a beginning of philosophical research: whereas stupor is a hindrance thereto.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q41_A4-p15"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q41_A4-p16"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q41_A3.html"></a>
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               </div>
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            </div>
            <div id="FS_Q42" class="div3">
               <a href="summa.FS_Q41_A4.html"></a>
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               <h3 id="FS_Q42-p0.1">OF THE OBJECT OF FEAR (SIX ARTICLES)</h3>
               <p id="FS_Q42-p1"></p>
               <p id="FS_Q42-p2"> We must now consider the object of fear: under which head there are six points of inquiry:</p>
               <p id="FS_Q42-p3"> (1) Whether good or evil is the object of fear?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q42-p4"> (2) Whether evil of nature is the object of fear?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q42-p5"> (3) Whether the evil of sin is an object of fear?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q42-p6"> (4) Whether fear itself can be feared?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q42-p7"> (5) Whether sudden things are especially feared?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q42-p8"> (6) Whether those things are more feared against which there is no remedy?</p>
               <div id="FS_Q42_A1" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q42.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q42_A2.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q42_A1-p0.1">Whether the object of fear is good or evil?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A1-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A1-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that good is the object of fear. For Augustine says (QQ. 83, qu. 83) that "we fear nothing save to lose what
                     we love and possess, or not to obtain that which we hope for." But that which we love is good. Therefore fear regards good
                     as its proper object.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A1-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, the Philosopher says (Rhet. ii, 5) that "power and to be above another is a thing to be feared." But this is a good
                     thing. Therefore good is the object of fear.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A1-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, there can be no evil in God. But we are commanded to fear God, according to
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q42_A1-p4.1" href="./asv.html#Ps.33.10" target="asv"> Ps. 33:10</a>: "Fear the Lord, all ye saints." Therefore even the good is an object of fear.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A1-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> Damascene says (De Fide Orth. ii, 12) that fear is of future evil.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A1-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> Fear is a movement of the appetitive power. Now it belongs to the appetitive power to pursue and to avoid, as stated in Ethic.
                     vi, 2: and pursuit is of good, while avoidance is of evil. Consequently whatever movement of the appetitive power implies
                     pursuit, has some good for its object: and whatever movement implies avoidance, has an evil for its object. Wherefore, since
                     fear implies an avoidance, in the first place and of its very nature it regards evil as
                     its proper object.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A1-p7"> It can, however, regard good also, in so far as referable to evil. This can be in two ways. In one way, inasmuch as an evil
                     causes privation of good. Now a thing is evil from the very fact that it is a privation of some good. Wherefore, since evil
                     is shunned because it is evil, it follows that it is shunned because it deprives one of the good that one pursues through
                     love thereof. And in this sense Augustine says that there is no cause for fear, save loss of the good we
                     love.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A1-p8"> In another way, good stands related to evil as its cause: in so far as some good can by its power bring harm to the good
                     we love: and so, just as hope, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q42_A1-p8.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q40_A7.html">Q[40], A[7]</a>), regards two things, namely, the good to which it tends, and the thing through which there is a hope of obtaining the desired
                     good; so also does fear regard two things, namely, the evil from which it shrinks, and that good which, by its power, can
                     inflict that evil. In this
                     way God is feared by man, inasmuch as He can inflict punishment, spiritual or corporal. In this way, too, we fear the power
                     of man; especially when it has been thwarted, or when it is unjust, because then it is more likely to do us a harm.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A1-p9"> In like manner one fears "to be over another," i.e. to lean on another, so that it is in his power to do us a harm: thus
                     a man fears another, who knows him to be guilty of a crime lest he reveal it to others.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A1-p10"> This suffices for the Replies to the Objections.</p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A1-p11"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A1-p12"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q42.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q42_A2.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q42_A2" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q42_A1.html"></a>
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                  <h4 id="FS_Q42_A2-p0.1">Whether evil of nature is an object of fear?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A2-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A2-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that evil of nature is not an object of fear. For the Philosopher says (Rhet. ii, 5) that "fear makes us take
                     counsel." But we do not take counsel about things which happen naturally, as stated in Ethic. iii, 3. Therefore evil of nature
                     is not an object of fear.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A2-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, natural defects such as death and the like are always threatening man. If therefore such like evils were an object
                     of fear, man would needs be always in fear.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A2-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, nature does not move to contraries. But evil of nature is an effect of nature. Therefore if a man shrinks from such
                     like evils through fear thereof, this is not an effect of nature. Therefore natural fear is not of the evil of nature; and
                     yet it seems that it should be.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A2-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> The Philosopher says (Ethic. iii, 6) that "the most terrible of all things is death," which is an evil of nature.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A2-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> As the Philosopher says (Rhet. ii, 5), fear is caused by the "imagination of a future evil which is either corruptive or
                     painful." Now just as a painful evil is that which is contrary to the will, so a corruptive evil is that which is contrary
                     to nature: and this is the evil of nature. Consequently evil of nature can be the object of fear.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A2-p7"> But it must be observed that evil of nature sometimes arises from a natural cause; and then it is called evil of nature,
                     not merely from being a privation of the good of nature, but also from being an effect of nature; such are natural death and
                     other like defects. But sometimes evil of nature arises from a non-natural cause; such as violent death inflicted by an assailant.
                     In either case evil of nature is feared to a certain extent, and to a certain extent not. For since fear
                     arises "from the imagination of future evil," as the Philosopher says (Rhet. ii, 5), whatever removes the imagination of the
                     future evil, removes fear also. Now it may happen in two ways that an evil may not appear as about to be. First, through being
                     remote and far off: for, on account of the distance, such a thing is considered as though it were not to be. Hence we either
                     do not fear it, or fear it but little; for, as the Philosopher says (Rhet. ii, 5), "we do not fear things that are very
                     far off; since all know that they shall die, but as death is not near, they heed it not." Secondly, a future evil is considered
                     as though it were not to be, on account of its being inevitable, wherefore we look upon it as already present. Hence the Philosopher
                     says (Rhet. ii, 5) that "those who are already on the scaffold, are not afraid," seeing that they are on the very point of
                     a death from which there is no escape; "but in order that a man be afraid, there must be some hope of escape for
                     him."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A2-p8"> Consequently evil of nature is not feared if it be not apprehended as future: but if evil of nature, that is corruptive,
                     be apprehended as near at hand, and yet with some hope of escape, then it will be feared.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A2-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> The evil of nature sometimes is not an effect of nature, as stated above. But in so far as it is an effect of nature, although
                     it may be impossible to avoid it entirely, yet it may be possible to delay it. And with this hope one may take counsel about
                     avoiding it.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A2-p10">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> Although evil of nature ever threatens, yet it does not always threaten from near at hand: and consequently it is not always
                     feared.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A2-p11">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> Death and other defects of nature are the effects of the common nature; and yet the individual nature rebels against them
                     as far as it can. Accordingly, from the inclination of the individual nature arise pain and sorrow for such like evils, when
                     present; fear when threatening in the future.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A2-p12"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A2-p13"></p>
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                  <a href="summa.FS_Q42_A3.html"></a>
               </div>
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                  <a href="summa.FS_Q42_A2.html"></a>
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                  <h4 id="FS_Q42_A3-p0.1">Whether the evil of sin is an object of fear?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A3-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A3-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that the evil of sin can be an object of fear. For Augustine says on the canonical Epistle of John (Tract.
                     ix), that "by chaste fear man fears to be severed from God." Now nothing but sin severs us from God; according to
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q42_A3-p2.1" href="./asv.html#Isa.59.2" target="asv"> Is. 59:2</a>: "Your iniquities have divided between you and your God." Therefore the evil of sin can be an object of fear.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A3-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, Cicero says (Quaest. Tusc. iv, 4,6) that "we fear when they are yet to come, those things which give us pain when
                     they are present." But it is possible for one to be pained or sorrowful on account of the evil of sin. Therefore one can also
                     fear the evil of sin.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A3-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, hope is contrary to fear. But the good of virtue can be the object of hope, as the Philosopher declares (Ethic.
                     ix, 4): and the Apostle says (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q42_A3-p4.1" href="./asv.html#Gal.5.10" target="asv">Gal. 5:10</a>): "I have confidence in you in the Lord, that you will not be of another mind." Therefore fear can regard evil of sin.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A3-p5">
                     <b>Objection 4:</b> Further, shame is a kind of fear, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q42_A3-p5.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q41_A4.html">Q[41], A[4]</a>). But shame regards a disgraceful deed, which is an evil of sin. Therefore fear does so likewise.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A3-p6">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> The Philosopher says (Rhet. ii, 5) that "not all evils are feared, for instance that someone be unjust or slow."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A3-p7">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> As stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q42_A3-p7.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q40_A1.html">Q[40], A[1]</a>;
                     <a id="FS_Q42_A3-p7.2" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q41_A2.html"> Q[41], A[2]</a>), as the object of hope is a future good difficult but possible to obtain, so the object of fear is a future evil, arduous
                     and not to be easily avoided. From this we may gather that whatever is entirely subject to our power and will, is not an object
                     of fear; and that nothing gives rise to fear save what is due to an external cause. Now human will is the proper cause
                     of the evil of sin: and consequently evil of sin, properly speaking, is not an object of fear.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A3-p8"> But since the human will may be inclined to sin by an extrinsic cause; if this cause have a strong power of inclination,
                     in that respect a man may fear the evil of sin, in so far as it arises from that extrinsic cause: as when he fears to dwell
                     in the company of wicked men, lest he be led by them to sin. But, properly speaking, a man thus disposed, fears the being
                     led astray rather than the sin considered in its proper nature, i.e. as a voluntary act; for considered in this
                     light it is not an object of fear to him.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A3-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> Separation from God is a punishment resulting from sin: and every punishment is, in some way, due to an extrinsic cause.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A3-p10">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> Sorrow and fear agree in one point, since each regards evil: they differ, however, in two points. First, because sorrow is
                     about present evil, whereas fear is future evil. Secondly, because sorrow, being in the concupiscible faculty, regards evil
                     absolutely; wherefore it can be about any evil, great or small; whereas fear, being in the irascible part, regards evil with
                     the addition of a certain arduousness or difficulty; which difficulty ceases in so
                     far as a thing is subject to the will. Consequently not all things that give us pain when they are present, make us fear when
                     they are yet to come, but only some things, namely, those that are difficult.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A3-p11">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> Hope is of good that is obtainable. Now one may obtain a good either of oneself, or through another: and so, hope may be
                     of an act of virtue, which lies within our own power. On the other hand, fear is of an evil that does not lie in our own power:
                     and consequently the evil which is feared is always from an extrinsic cause; while the good that is hoped for may be both
                     from an intrinsic and from an extrinsic cause.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A3-p12">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 4:</b> As stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q42_A3-p12.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q41_A4.html">Q[41], A[4]</a>, ad 2,3), shame is not fear of the very act of sin, but of the disgrace or ignominy which arises therefrom, and which is
                     due to an extrinsic cause.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A3-p13"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A3-p14"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q42_A2.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q42_A4.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q42_A4" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q42_A3.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q42_A5.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q42_A4-p0.1">Whether fear itself can be feared?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A4-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A4-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that fear cannot be feared. For whatever is feared, is prevented from being lost, through fear thereof: thus
                     a man who fears to lose his health, keeps it, through fearing its loss. If therefore a man be afraid of fear, he will keep
                     himself from fear by being afraid: which seems absurd.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A4-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, fear is a kind of flight. But nothing flies from itself. Therefore fear cannot be the object of fear.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A4-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, fear is about the future. But fear is present to him that fears. Therefore it cannot be the object of his fear.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A4-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> A man can love his own love, and can grieve at his own sorrow. Therefore, in like manner, he can fear his own fear.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A4-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> As stated above 
                     <a id="FS_Q42_A4-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q42_A3.html">(A[3])</a>, nothing can be an object of fear, save what is due to an extrinsic cause; but not that which ensues from our own will. Now
                     fear partly arises from an extrinsic cause, and is partly subject to the will. It is due to an extrinsic cause, in so far
                     as it is a passion resulting from the imagination of an imminent evil. In this sense it is possible for fear to be the object
                     of fear, i.e. a man may fear lest he
                     should be threatened by the necessity of fearing, through being assailed by some great evil. It is subject to the will, in
                     so far as the lower appetite obeys reason; wherefore man is able to drive fear away. In this sense fear cannot be the object
                     of fear, as Augustine says (QQ. 83, qu. 33). Lest, however, anyone make use of his arguments, in order to prove that fear
                     cannot be at all be the object of fear, we must add a solution to the same.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A4-p7">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> Not every fear is identically the same; there are various fears according to the various objects of fear. Nothing, then,
                     prevents a man from keeping himself from fearing one thing, by fearing another, so that the fear which he has preserves him
                     from the fear which he has not.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A4-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> Since fear of an imminent evil is not identical with the fear of the fear of imminent evil; it does not follow that a thing
                     flies from itself, or that it is the same flight in both cases.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A4-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> On account of the various kinds of fear already alluded to (ad 2) a man's present fear may have a future fear for its object.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A4-p10"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A4-p11"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q42_A3.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q42_A5.html"></a>
               </div>
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                  <a href="summa.FS_Q42_A4.html"></a>
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                  <h4 id="FS_Q42_A5-p0.1">Whether sudden things are especially feared?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A5-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A5-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that unwonted and sudden things are not especially feared. Because, as hope is about good things, so fear is
                     about evil things. But experience conduces to the increase of hope in good things. Therefore it also adds to fear in evil
                     things.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A5-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, the Philosopher says (Rhet. ii, 5) that "those are feared most, not who are quick-tempered, but who are gentle and
                     cunning." Now it is clear that those who are quick-tempered are more subject to sudden emotions. Therefore sudden things are
                     less to be feared.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A5-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, we think less about things that happen suddenly. But the more we think about a thing, the more we fear it; hence
                     the Philosopher says (Ethic. iii, 8) that "some appear to be courageous through ignorance, but as soon as they discover that
                     the case is different from what they expected, they run away." Therefore sudden things are feared less.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A5-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> Augustine says (Confess. ii, 6): "Fear is startled at things unwonted and sudden, which endanger things beloved, and takes
                     forethought for their safety."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A5-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> As stated about 
                     <a id="FS_Q42_A5-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q42_A3.html">(A[3];</a> Q[41], A[2]), the object of fear is an imminent evil, which can be repelled, but with difficulty. Now this is due to one
                     of two causes: to the greatness of the evil, or to the weakness of him that fears; while unwontedness and suddenness conduce
                     to both of these causes. First, it helps an imminent evil to seem greater. Because all material things, whether good or evil,
                     the more we consider them, the smaller
                     they seem. Consequently, just as sorrow for a present evil is mitigated in course of time, as Cicero states (De Quaest. Tusc.
                     iii, 30); so, too, fear of a future evil is diminished by thinking about it beforehand. Secondly, unwontedness and suddenness
                     increase the weakness of him that fears, in so far as they deprive him of the remedies with which he might otherwise provide
                     himself to forestall the coming evil, were it not for the evil taking him by surprise.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A5-p7">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> The object of hope is a good that is possible to obtain. Consequently whatever increases a man's power, is of a nature to
                     increase hope, and, for the same reason, to diminish fear, since fear is about an evil which cannot be easily repelled. Since,
                     therefore, experience increases a man's power of action, therefore, as it increases hope, so does it diminish fear.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A5-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> Those who are quick-tempered do not hide their anger; wherefore the harm they do others is not so sudden, as not to be foreseen.
                     On the other hand, those who are gentle or cunning hide their anger; wherefore the harm which may be impending from them,
                     cannot be foreseen, but takes one by surprise. For this reason the Philosopher says that such men are feared more than others.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A5-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> Bodily good or evil, considered in itself, seems greater at first. The reason for this is that a thing is more obvious when
                     seen in juxtaposition with its contrary. Hence, when a man passes unexpectedly from penury to wealth, he thinks more of his
                     wealth on account of his previous poverty: while, on the other hand, the rich man who suddenly becomes poor, finds poverty
                     all the more disagreeable. For this reason sudden evil is feared more, because it
                     seems more to be evil. However, it may happen through some accident that the greatness of some evil is hidden; for instance
                     if the foe hides himself in ambush: and then it is true that evil inspires greater fear through being much thought about.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A5-p10"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A5-p11"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q42_A4.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q42_A6.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q42_A6" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q42_A5.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q43.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q42_A6-p0.1">Whether those things are more feared, for which there is no remedy?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A6-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A6-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that those things are not more to be feared, for which there is no remedy. Because it is a condition of fear,
                     that there be some hope of safety, as stated above 
                     <a id="FS_Q42_A6-p2.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q42_A2.html">(A[2])</a>. But an evil that cannot be remedied leaves no hope of escape. Therefore such things are not feared at all.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A6-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, there is no remedy for the evil of death: since, in the natural course of things, there is no return from death
                     to life. And yet death is not the most feared of all things, as the Philosopher says (Rhet. ii, 5). Therefore those things
                     are not feared most, for which there is no remedy.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A6-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, the Philosopher says (Ethic. i, 6) that "a thing which lasts long is no better than that which lasts but one day:
                     nor is that which lasts for ever any better than that which is not everlasting": and the same applies to evil. But things
                     that cannot be remedied seem to differ from other things, merely in the point of their lasting long or for ever. Consequently
                     they are not therefore any worse or more to be feared.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A6-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> the Philosopher says (Rhet. ii, 5) that "those things are most to be feared which when done wrong cannot be put right . .
                     . or for which there is no help, or which are not easy."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A6-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> The object of fear is evil: consequently whatever tends to increase evil, conduces to the increase of fear. Now evil is increased
                     not only in its species of evil, but also in respect of circumstances, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q42_A6-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q18_A3.html">Q[18], A[3]</a>). And of all the circumstances, longlastingness, or even everlastingness, seems to have the greatest bearing on the increase
                     of evil. Because things that exist in time are measured, in a way, according to
                     the duration of time: wherefore if it be an evil to suffer something for a certain length of time, we should reckon the evil
                     doubled, if it be suffered for twice that length of time. And accordingly, to suffer the same thing for an infinite length
                     of time, i.e. for ever, implies, so to speak, an infinite increase. Now those evils which, after they have come, cannot be
                     remedied at all, or at least not easily, are considered as lasting for ever or for a long time: for which reason they inspire
                     the greatest fear.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A6-p7">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> Remedy for an evil is twofold. One, by which a future evil is warded off from coming. If such a remedy be removed, there
                     is an end to hope and consequently to fear; wherefore we do not speak now of remedies of that kind. The other remedy is one
                     by which an already present evil is removed: and of such a remedy we speak now.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A6-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> Although death be an evil without remedy, yet, since it threatens not from near, it is not feared, as stated above 
                     <a id="FS_Q42_A6-p8.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q42_A2.html">(A[2])</a>.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A6-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> The Philosopher is speaking there of things that are good in themselves, i.e. good specifically. And such like good is no
                     better for lasting long or for ever: its goodness depends on its very nature.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A6-p10"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q42_A6-p11"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q42_A5.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q43.html"></a>
               </div>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q41_A4.html"></a>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q42_A1.html"></a>
            </div>
            <div id="FS_Q43" class="div3">
               <a href="summa.FS_Q42_A6.html"></a>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q43_A1.html"></a>
               <h3 id="FS_Q43-p0.1">OF THE CAUSE OF FEAR (TWO ARTICLES)</h3>
               <p id="FS_Q43-p1"></p>
               <p id="FS_Q43-p2"> We must now consider the cause of fear: under which head there are two points of inquiry:</p>
               <p id="FS_Q43-p3"> (1) Whether love is the cause of fear?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q43-p4"> (2) Whether defect is the cause of fear?</p>
               <div id="FS_Q43_A1" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q43.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q43_A2.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q43_A1-p0.1">Whether love is the cause of fear?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q43_A1-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q43_A1-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that love is not the cause of fear. For that which leads to a thing is its cause. But "fear leads to the love
                     of charity" as Augustine says on the canonical epistle of John (Tract. ix). Therefore fear is the cause of love, and not conversely.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q43_A1-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, the Philosopher says (Rhet. ii, 5) that "those are feared most from whom we dread the advent of some evil." But
                     the dread of evil being caused by someone, makes us hate rather than love him. Therefore fear is caused by hate rather than
                     by love.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q43_A1-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, it has been stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q43_A1-p4.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q42_A3.html">Q[42], A[3]</a>) that those things which occur by our own doing are not fearful. But that which we do from love, is done from our inmost
                     heart. Therefore fear is not caused by love.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q43_A1-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> Augustine says (QQ. 83, qu. 33): "There can be no doubt that there is no cause for fear save the loss of what we love, when
                     we possess it, or the failure to obtain what we hope for." Therefore all fear is caused by our loving something: and consequently
                     love is the cause of fear.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q43_A1-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> The objects of the soul's passions stand in relation thereto as the forms to things natural or artificial: because the passions
                     of the soul take their species from their objects, as the aforesaid things do from their forms. Therefore, just as whatever
                     is a cause of the form, is a cause of the thing constituted by that form, so whatever is a cause, in any way whatever, of
                     the object, is a cause of the passion. Now a thing may be a cause of the object, either
                     by way of efficient cause, or by way of material disposition. Thus the object of pleasure is good apprehended as suitable
                     and conjoined: and its efficient cause is that which causes the conjunction, or the suitableness, or goodness, or apprehension
                     of that good thing; while its cause by way of material disposition, is a habit or any sort of disposition by reason of which
                     this conjoined good becomes suitable or is apprehended as such.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q43_A1-p7"> Accordingly, as to the matter in question, the object of fear is something reckoned as an evil to come, near at hand and
                     difficult to avoid. Therefore that which can inflict such an evil, is the efficient cause of the object of fear, and, consequently,
                     of fear itself. While that which renders a man so disposed that thing is such an evil to him, is a cause of fear and of its
                     object, by way of material disposition. And thus it is that love causes fear: since it is through his
                     loving a certain good, that whatever deprives a man of that good is an evil to him, and that consequently he fears it as an
                     evil.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q43_A1-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> As stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q43_A1-p8.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q42_A1.html">Q[42], A[1]</a>), fear, of itself and in the first place, regards the evil from which it recoils as being contrary to some loved good: and
                     thus fear, of itself, is born of love. But, in the second place, it regards the cause from which that evil ensues: so that
                     sometimes, accidentally, fear gives rise to love; in so far as, for instance, through fear of God's punishments, man keeps
                     His commandments, and thus
                     begins to hope, while hope leads to love, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q43_A1-p8.2" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q40_A7.html">Q[40] , A[7]</a>).
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q43_A1-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> He, from whom evil is expected, is indeed hated at first; but afterwards, when once we begin to hope for good from him, we
                     begin to love him. But the good, the contrary evil of which is feared, was loved from the beginning.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q43_A1-p10">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> This argument is true of that which is the efficient cause of the evil to be feared: whereas love causes fear by way of material
                     disposition, as stated above.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q43_A1-p11"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q43_A1-p12"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q43.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q43_A2.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q43_A2" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q43_A1.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q44.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q43_A2-p0.1">Whether defect is the cause of fear?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q43_A2-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q43_A2-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that defect is not a cause of fear. Because those who are in power are very much feared. But defect is contrary
                     to power. Therefore defect is not a cause of fear.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q43_A2-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, the defect of those who are already being executed is extreme. But such like do not fear as stated in Rhet. ii,
                     5. Therefore defect is not a cause of fear.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q43_A2-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, contests arise from strength not from defect. But "those who contend fear those who contend with them" (Rhet. ii,
                     5). Therefore defect is not a cause of fear.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q43_A2-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> Contraries ensue from contrary causes. But "wealth, strength, a multitude of friends, and power drive fear away" (Rhet. ii,
                     5). Therefore fear is caused by lack of these.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q43_A2-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> As stated above 
                     <a id="FS_Q43_A2-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q43_A1.html">(A[1])</a>, fear may be set down to a twofold cause: one is by way of a material disposition, on the part of him that fears; the other
                     is by way of efficient cause, on the part of the person feared. As to the first then, some defect is, of itself, the cause
                     of fear: for it is owing to some lack of power that one is unable easily to repulse a threatening evil. And yet, in order
                     to cause fear, this defect must be according
                     to a measure. For the defect which causes fear of a future evil, is less than the defect caused by evil present, which is
                     the object of sorrow. And still greater would be the defect, if perception of the evil, or love of the good whose contrary
                     is feared, were entirely absent.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q43_A2-p7"> But as to the second, power and strength are, of themselves, the cause of fear: because it is owing to the fact that the
                     cause apprehended as harmful is powerful, that its effect cannot be repulsed. It may happen, however, in this respect, that
                     some defect causes fear accidentally, in so far as owing to some defect someone wishes to hurt another; for instance, by reason
                     of injustice, either because that other has already done him a harm, or because he fears to be harmed by
                     him.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q43_A2-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> This argument is true of the cause of fear, on the part of the efficient cause.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q43_A2-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> Those who are already being executed, are actually suffering from a present evil; wherefore their defect exceeds the measure
                     of fear.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q43_A2-p10">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> Those who contend with one another are afraid, not on account of the power which enables them to contend: but on account
                     of the lack of power, owing to which they are not confident of victory.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q43_A2-p11"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q43_A2-p12"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q43_A1.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q44.html"></a>
               </div>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q42_A6.html"></a>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q43_A1.html"></a>
            </div>
            <div id="FS_Q44" class="div3">
               <a href="summa.FS_Q43_A2.html"></a>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q44_A1.html"></a>
               <h3 id="FS_Q44-p0.1">OF THE EFFECTS OF FEAR (FOUR ARTICLES)</h3>
               <p id="FS_Q44-p1"></p>
               <p id="FS_Q44-p2"> We must now consider the effects of fear: under which head there are four points of inquiry:</p>
               <p id="FS_Q44-p3"> (1) Whether fear causes contraction?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q44-p4"> (2) Whether it makes men suitable for counsel?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q44-p5"> (3) Whether it makes one tremble?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q44-p6"> (4) Whether it hinders action?</p>
               <div id="FS_Q44_A1" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q44.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q44_A2.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q44_A1-p0.1">Whether fear causes contraction?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q44_A1-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q44_A1-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that fear does not cause contraction. For when contraction takes place, the heat and vital spirits are withdrawn
                     inwardly. But accumulation of heat and vital spirits in the interior parts of the body, dilates the heart unto endeavors of
                     daring, as may be seen in those who are angered: while the contrary happens in those who are afraid. Therefore fear does not
                     cause contraction.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q44_A1-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, when, as a result of contraction, the vital spirits and heat are accumulated in the interior parts, man cries out,
                     as may be seen in those who are in pain. But those who fear utter nothing: on the contrary they lose their speech. Therefore
                     fear does not cause contraction.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q44_A1-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, shame is a kind of fear, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q44_A1-p4.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q41_A4.html">Q[41], A[4]</a>). But "those who are ashamed blush," as Cicero (De Quaest. Tusc. iv, 8), and the Philosopher (Ethic. iv, 9) observe. But
                     blushing is an indication, not of contraction, but of the reverse. Therefore contraction is not an effect of fear.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q44_A1-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> Damascene says (De Fide Orth. ii, 23) that "fear is a power according to {systole}," i.e. contraction.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q44_A1-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> As stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q44_A1-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q28_A5.html">Q[28], A[5]</a>), in the passions of the soul, the formal element is the movement of the appetitive power, while the bodily transmutation
                     is the material element. Both of these are mutually proportionate; and consequently the bodily transmutation assumes a resemblance
                     to and the very nature of the appetitive movement. Now, as to the appetitive movement of the soul, fear implies a certain
                     contraction: the reason of which
                     is that fear arises from the imagination of some threatening evil which is difficult to repel, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q44_A1-p6.2" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q41_A2.html">Q[41], A[2]</a>). But that a thing be difficult to repel is due to lack of power, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q44_A1-p6.3" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q43_A2.html">Q[43], A[2]</a>): and the weaker a power is, the fewer the things to which it extends. Wherefore from the very imagination that causes fear
                     there ensues a certain contraction in the appetite. Thus we observe in one who is dying that nature
                     withdraws inwardly, on account of the lack of power: and again we see the inhabitants of a city, when seized with fear, leave
                     the outskirts, and, as far as possible, make for the inner quarters. It is in resemblance to this contraction, which pertains
                     to the appetite of the soul, that in fear a similar contraction of heat and vital spirits towards the inner parts takes place
                     in regard to the body.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q44_A1-p7">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> As the Philosopher says (De Problem. xxvii, 3), although in those who fear, the vital spirits recede from outer to the inner
                     parts of the body, yet the movement of vital spirits is not the same in those who are angry and those who are afraid. For
                     in those who are angry, by reason of the heat and subtlety of the vital spirits, which result from the craving for vengeance,
                     the inward movement has an upward direction: wherefore the vital spirits and heat
                     concentrate around the heart: the result being that an angry man is quick and brave in attacking. But in those who are afraid,
                     on account of the condensation caused by cold, the vital spirits have a downward movement; the said cold being due to the
                     imagined lack of power. Consequently the heat and vital spirits abandon the heart instead of concentrating around it: the
                     result being that a man who is afraid is not quick to attack, but is more inclined to run away.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q44_A1-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> To everyone that is in pain, whether man or animal, it is natural to use all possible means of repelling the harmful thing
                     that causes pain but its presence: thus we observe that animals, when in pain, attack with their jaws or with their horns.
                     Now the greatest help for all purposes, in animals, is heat and vital spirits: wherefore when they are in pain, their nature
                     stores up the heat and vital spirits within them, in order to make use thereof in
                     repelling the harmful object. Hence the Philosopher says (De Problem. xxvii, 9) when the vital spirits and heat are concentrated
                     together within, they require to find a vent in the voice: for which reason those who are in pain can scarcely refrain from
                     crying aloud. On the other hand, in those who are afraid, the internal heat and vital spirits move from the heart downwards,
                     as stated above (ad 1): wherefore fear hinders speech which ensues from the emission of the vital spirits in an upward
                     direction through the mouth: the result being that fear makes its subject speechless. For this reason, too, fear "makes its
                     subject tremble," as the Philosopher says (De Problem. xxvii, 1,6,7).
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q44_A1-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> Mortal perils are contrary not only to the appetite of the soul, but also to nature. Consequently in such like fear, there
                     is contraction not only in the appetite, but also in the corporeal nature: for when an animal is moved by the imagination
                     of death, it experiences a contraction of heat towards the inner parts of the body, as though it were threatened by a natural
                     death. Hence it is that "those who are in fear of death turn pale" (Ethic. iv, 9).
                     But the evil that shame fears, is contrary, not to nature, but only to the appetite of the soul. Consequently there results
                     a contraction in this appetite, but not in the corporeal nature; in fact, the soul, as though contracted in itself, is free
                     to set the vital spirits and heat in movement, so that they spread to the outward parts of the body: the result being that
                     those who are ashamed blush.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q44_A1-p10"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q44_A1-p11"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q44.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q44_A2.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q44_A2" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q44_A1.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q44_A3.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q44_A2-p0.1">Whether fear makes one suitable for counsel? </h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q44_A2-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q44_A2-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that fear does not make one suitable for counsel. For the same thing cannot be conducive to counsel, and a
                     hindrance thereto. But fear hinders counsel: because every passion disturbs repose, which is requisite for the good use of
                     reason. Therefore fear does not make a man suitable for counsel.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q44_A2-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, counsel is an act of reason, in thinking and deliberating about the future. But a certain fear "drives away all
                     thought, and dislocates the mind," as Cicero observes (De Quaest. Tusc. iv, 8). Therefore fear does not conduce to counsel,
                     but hinders it.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q44_A2-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, just as we have recourse to counsel in order to avoid evil, so do we, in order to attain good things. But whereas
                     fear is of evil to be avoided, so is hope of good things to be obtained. Therefore fear is not more conducive to counsel,
                     than hope is.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q44_A2-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> The Philosopher says (Rhet. ii, 5) that "fear makes men of counsel."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q44_A2-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> A man of counsel may be taken in two ways. First, from his being willing or anxious to take counsel. And thus fear makes
                     men of counsel. Because, as the Philosopher says (Ethic. iii, 3), "we take counsel on great matters, because therein we distrust
                     ourselves." Now things which make us afraid, are not simply evil, but have a certain magnitude, both because they seem difficult
                     to repel, and because they are apprehended as near to us, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q44_A2-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q42_A2.html">Q[42], A[2]</a>). Wherefore men seek for counsel especially when they are afraid.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q44_A2-p7"> Secondly, a man of counsel means one who is apt for giving good counsel: and in this sense, neither fear nor any passion
                     makes men of counsel. Because when a man is affected by a passion, things seem to him greater or smaller than they really
                     are: thus to a lover, what he loves seems better; to him that fears, what he fears seems more dreadful. Consequently owing
                     to the want of right judgment, every passion, considered in itself, hinders the faculty of giving good counsel.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q44_A2-p8"> This suffices for the Reply to the First Objection.</p>
                  <p id="FS_Q44_A2-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> The stronger a passion is, the greater the hindrance is it to the man who is swayed by it. Consequently, when fear is intense,
                     man does indeed wish to take counsel, but his thoughts are so disturbed, that he can find no counsel. If, however, the fear
                     be slight, so as to make a man wish to take counsel, without gravely disturbing the reason; it may even make it easier for
                     him to take good counsel, by reason of his ensuing carefulness.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q44_A2-p10">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> Hope also makes man a good counsellor: because, as the Philosopher says (Rhet. ii, 5), "no man takes counsel in matters he
                     despairs of," nor about impossible things, as he says in Ethic. iii, 3. But fear incites to counsel more than hope does. Because
                     hope is of good things, as being possible of attainment; whereas fear is of evil things, as being difficult to repel, so that
                     fear regards the aspect of difficulty more than hope does. And it is in
                     matters of difficulty, especially when we distrust ourselves, that we take counsel, as stated above.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q44_A2-p11"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q44_A2-p12"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q44_A1.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q44_A3.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q44_A3" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q44_A2.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q44_A4.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q44_A3-p0.1">Whether fear makes one tremble?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q44_A3-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q44_A3-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that trembling is not an effect of fear. Because trembling is occasioned by cold; thus we observe that a cold
                     person trembles. Now fear does not seem to make one cold, but rather to cause a parching heat: a sign whereof is that those
                     who fear are thirsty, especially if their fear be very great, as in the case of those who are being led to execution. Therefore
                     fear does not cause trembling.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q44_A3-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, faecal evacuation is occasioned by heat; hence laxative medicines are generally warm. But these evacuations are
                     often caused by fear. Therefore fear apparently causes heat; and consequently does not cause trembling.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q44_A3-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, in fear, the heat is withdrawn from the outer to the inner parts of the body. If, therefore, man trembles in his
                     outward parts, through the heat being withdrawn thus; it seems that fear should cause this trembling in all the external members.
                     But such is not the case. Therefore trembling of the body is not caused by fear.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q44_A3-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> Cicero says (De Quaest. Tusc. iv, 8) that "fear is followed by trembling, pallor and chattering of the teeth."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q44_A3-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> As stated above 
                     <a id="FS_Q44_A3-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q44_A1.html">(A[1])</a>, in fear there takes place a certain contraction from the outward to the inner parts of the body, the result being that the
                     outer parts become cold; and for this reason trembling is occasioned in these parts, being caused by a lack of power in controlling
                     the members: which lack of power is due to the want of heat, which is the instrument whereby the soul moves those members,
                     as stated in De Anima ii, 4.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q44_A3-p7">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> When the heat withdraws from the outer to the inner parts, the inward heat increases, especially in the inferior or nutritive
                     parts. Consequently the humid element being spent, thirst ensues; sometimes indeed the result is a loosening of the bowels,
                     and urinary or even seminal evacuation. Or else such like evacuations are due to contraction of the abdomen and testicles,
                     as the Philosopher says (De Problem. xxii, 11).
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q44_A3-p8"> This suffices for the Reply to the Second Objection.</p>
                  <p id="FS_Q44_A3-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> In fear, heat abandons the heart, with a downward movement: hence in those who are afraid the heart especially trembles,
                     as also those members which are connected with the breast where the heart resides. Hence those who fear tremble especially
                     in their speech, on account of the tracheal artery being near the heart. The lower lip, too, and the lower jaw tremble, through
                     their connection with the heart; which explains the chattering of the teeth. For
                     the same reason the arms and hands tremble. Or else because the aforesaid members are more mobile. For which reason the knees
                     tremble in those who are afraid, according to 
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q44_A3-p9.1" href="./asv.html#Isa.35.3" target="asv">Is. 35:3</a>: "Strengthen ye the feeble hands, and confirm the trembling [Vulg.: 'weak'] knees."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q44_A3-p10"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q44_A3-p11"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q44_A2.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q44_A4.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q44_A4" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q44_A3.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q45.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q44_A4-p0.1">Whether fear hinders action?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q44_A4-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q44_A4-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that fear hinders action. For action is hindered chiefly by a disturbance in the reason, which directs action.
                     But fear disturbs reason, as stated above 
                     <a id="FS_Q44_A4-p2.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q44_A2.html">(A[2])</a>. Therefore fear hinders action.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q44_A4-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, those who fear while doing anything, are more apt to fail: thus a man who walks on a plank placed aloft, easily
                     falls through fear; whereas, if he were to walk on the same plank down below, he would not fall, through not being afraid.
                     Therefore fear hinders action.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q44_A4-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, laziness or sloth is a kind of fear. But laziness hinders action. Therefore fear does too.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q44_A4-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> The Apostle says (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q44_A4-p5.1" href="./asv.html#Phil.2.12" target="asv">Phil. 2:12</a>): "With fear and trembling work out your salvation": and he would not say this if fear were a hindrance to a good work. Therefore
                     fear does not hinder a good action.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q44_A4-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> Man's exterior actions are caused by the soul as first mover, but by the bodily members as instruments. Now action may be
                     hindered both by defect of the instrument, and by defect of the principal mover. On the part of the bodily instruments, fear,
                     considered in itself, is always apt to hinder exterior action, on account of the outward members being deprived, through fear,
                     of their heat. But on the part of the soul, if the fear be moderate, without much
                     disturbance of the reason, it conduces to working well, in so far as it causes a certain solicitude, and makes a man take
                     counsel and work with greater attention. If, however, fear increases so much as to disturb the reason, it hinders action even
                     on the part of the soul. But of such a fear the Apostle does not speak.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q44_A4-p7"> This suffices for the Reply to the First Objection.</p>
                  <p id="FS_Q44_A4-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> He that falls from a plank placed aloft, suffers a disturbance of his imagination, through fear of the fall that is pictured
                     to his imagination.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q44_A4-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> Everyone in fear shuns that which he fears: and therefore, since laziness is a fear of work itself as being toilsome, it
                     hinders work by withdrawing the will from it. But fear of other things conduces to action, in so far as it inclines the will
                     to do that whereby a man escapes from what he fears.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q44_A4-p10"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q44_A4-p11"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q44_A3.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q45.html"></a>
               </div>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q43_A2.html"></a>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q44_A1.html"></a>
            </div>
            <div id="FS_Q45" class="div3">
               <a href="summa.FS_Q44_A4.html"></a>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q45_A1.html"></a>
               <h3 id="FS_Q45-p0.1">OF DARING (FOUR ARTICLES)</h3>
               <p id="FS_Q45-p1"></p>
               <p id="FS_Q45-p2"> We must now consider daring: under which head there are four points of inquiry:</p>
               <p id="FS_Q45-p3"> (1) Whether daring is contrary to fear?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q45-p4"> (2) How is daring related to hope?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q45-p5"> (3) Of the cause of daring;</p>
               <p id="FS_Q45-p6"> (4) Of its effect.</p>
               <div id="FS_Q45_A1" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q45.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q45_A2.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q45_A1-p0.1">Whether daring is contrary to fear?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q45_A1-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q45_A1-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that daring is not contrary to fear. For Augustine says (QQ. 83, qu. 31) that "daring is a vice." Now vice
                     is contrary to virtue. Since, therefore, fear is not a virtue but a passion, it seems that daring is not contrary to fear.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q45_A1-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, to one thing there is one contrary. But hope is contrary to fear. Therefore daring is not contrary to fear.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q45_A1-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, every passion excludes its opposite. But fear excludes safety; for Augustine says (Confess. ii, 6) that "fear takes
                     forethought for safety." Therefore safety is contrary to fear. Therefore daring is not contrary to fear.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q45_A1-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> The Philosopher says (Rhet. ii, 5) that "daring is contrary to fear."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q45_A1-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> It is of the essence of contraries to be "farthest removed from one another," as stated in Metaph. x, 4. Now that which is
                     farthest removed from fear, is daring: since fear turns away from the future hurt, on account of its victory over him that
                     fears it; whereas daring turns on threatened danger because of its own victory over that same danger. Consequently it is evident
                     that daring is contrary to fear.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q45_A1-p7">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> Anger, daring and all the names of the passions can be taken in two ways. First, as denoting absolutely movements of the
                     sensitive appetite in respect of some object, good or bad: and thus they are names of passions. Secondly, as denoting besides
                     this movement, a straying from the order of reason: and thus they are names of vices. It is in this sense that Augustine speaks
                     of daring: but we are speaking of it in the first sense.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q45_A1-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> To one thing, in the same respect, there are not several contraries; but in different respects nothing prevents one thing
                     having several contraries. Accordingly it has been said above (
                     <a id="FS_Q45_A1-p8.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q23_A2.html">Q[23], A[2]</a>;
                     <a id="FS_Q45_A1-p8.2" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q40_A4.html"> Q[40], A[4]</a>) that the irascible passions admit of a twofold contrariety: one, according to the opposition of good and evil, and thus
                     fear is contrary to hope: the other, according to the opposition of
                     approach and withdrawal, and thus daring is contrary to fear, and despair contrary to hope.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q45_A1-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> Safety does not denote something contrary to fear, but merely the exclusion of fear: for he is said to be safe, who fears
                     not. Wherefore safety is opposed to fear, as a privation: while daring is opposed thereto as a contrary. And as contrariety
                     implies privation, so daring implies safety.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q45_A1-p10"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q45_A1-p11"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q45.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q45_A2.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q45_A2" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q45_A1.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q45_A3.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q45_A2-p0.1">Whether daring ensues from hope?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q45_A2-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q45_A2-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that daring does not ensue from hope. Because daring regards evil and fearful things, as stated in Ethic. iii,
                     7. But hope regards good things, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q45_A2-p2.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q40_A1.html">Q[40], A[1]</a>). Therefore they have different objects and are not in the same order. Therefore daring does not ensue from hope.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q45_A2-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, just as daring is contrary to fear, so is despair contrary to hope. But fear does not ensue from despair: in fact,
                     despair excludes fear, as the Philosopher says (Rhet. ii, 5). Therefore daring does not result from hope.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q45_A2-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, daring is intent on something good, viz. victory. But it belongs to hope to tend to that which is good and difficult.
                     Therefore daring is the same as hope; and consequently does not result from it.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q45_A2-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> The Philosopher says (Ethic. iii, 8) that "those are hopeful are full of daring." Therefore it seems that daring ensues from
                     hope.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q45_A2-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> As we have often stated (
                     <a id="FS_Q45_A2-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q22_A2.html">Q[22], A[2]</a>;
                     <a id="FS_Q45_A2-p6.2" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q35_A1.html"> Q[35], A[1]</a>;
                     <a id="FS_Q45_A2-p6.3" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q41_A1.html"> Q[41], A[1]</a>), all these passions belong to the appetitive power. Now every movement of the appetitive power is reducible to one either
                     of pursuit or of avoidance. Again, pursuit or avoidance is of something either by reason of itself or by reason of something
                     else. By reason of itself, good is the object of pursuit, and evil, the
                     object of avoidance: but by reason of something else, evil can be the object of pursuit, through some good attaching to it;
                     and good can be the object of avoidance, through some evil attaching to it. Now that which is by reason of something else,
                     follows that which is by reason of itself. Consequently pursuit of evil follows pursuit of good; and avoidance of good follows
                     avoidance of evil. Now these four things belong to four passions, since pursuit of good belongs to hope, avoidance of evil
                     to
                     fear, the pursuit of the fearful evil belongs to daring, and the avoidance of good to despair. It follows, therefore, that
                     daring results from hope; since it is in the hope of overcoming the threatening object of fear, that one attacks it boldly.
                     But despair results from fear: since the reason why a man despairs is because he fears the difficulty attaching to the good
                     he should hope for.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q45_A2-p7">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> This argument would hold, if good and evil were not co-ordinate objects. But because evil has a certain relation to good,
                     since it comes after good, as privation comes after habit; consequently daring which pursues evil, comes after hope which
                     pursues good.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q45_A2-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> Although good, absolutely speaking, is prior to evil, yet avoidance of evil precedes avoidance of good; just as the pursuit
                     of good precedes the pursuit of evil. Consequently just as hope precedes daring, so fear precedes despair. And just as fear
                     does not always lead to despair, but only when it is intense; so hope does not always lead to daring, save only when it is
                     strong.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q45_A2-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> Although the object of daring is an evil to which, in the estimation of the daring man, the good of victory is conjoined;
                     yet daring regards the evil, and hope regards the conjoined good. In like manner despair regards directly the good which it
                     turns away from, while fear regards the conjoined evil. Hence, properly speaking, daring is not a part of hope, but its effect:
                     just as despair is an effect, not a part, of fear. For this reason, too, daring
                     cannot be a principal passion.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q45_A2-p10"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q45_A2-p11"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q45_A1.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q45_A3.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q45_A3" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q45_A2.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q45_A4.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q45_A3-p0.1">Whether some defect is a cause of daring?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q45_A3-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q45_A3-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that some defect is a cause of daring. For the Philosopher says (De Problem. xxvii, 4) that "lovers of wine
                     are strong and daring." But from wine ensues the effect of drunkenness. Therefore daring is caused by a defect.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q45_A3-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, the Philosopher says (Rhet. ii, 5) that "those who have no experience of danger are bold." But want of experience
                     is a defect. Therefore daring is caused by a defect.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q45_A3-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, those who have suffered wrongs are wont to be daring; "like the beasts when beaten," as stated in Ethic. iii, 5.
                     But the suffering of wrongs pertains to defect. Therefore daring is caused by a defect.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q45_A3-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> The Philosopher says (Rhet. ii, 5) that the cause of daring "is the presence in the imagination of the hope that the means
                     of safety are nigh, and that the things to be feared are either non-existent or far off." But anything pertaining to defect
                     implies either the removal of the means of safety, or the proximity of something to be feared. Therefore nothing pertaining
                     to defect is a cause of daring.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q45_A3-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> As stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q45_A3-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q45_A1.html">AA[1]</a>,2) daring results from hope and is contrary to fear: wherefore whatever is naturally apt to cause hope or banish fear, is
                     a cause of daring. Since, however, fear and hope, and also daring, being passions, consist in a movement of the appetite,
                     and in a certain bodily transmutation; a thing may be considered as the cause of daring in two ways, whether by raising hope,
                     or by banishing fear; in one way, in the
                     part of the appetitive movement; in another way, on the part of the bodily transmutation.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q45_A3-p7"> On the part of the appetitive movement which follows apprehension, hope that leads to daring is roused by those things that
                     make us reckon victory as possible. Such things regard either our own power, as bodily strength, experience of dangers, abundance
                     of wealth, and the like; or they regard the powers of others, such as having a great number of friends or any other means
                     of help, especially if a man trust in the Divine assistance: wherefore "those are more daring, with whom it
                     is well in regard to godlike things," as the Philosopher says (Rhet. ii, 5). Fear is banished, in this way, by the removal
                     of threatening causes of fear; for instance, by the fact that a man has not enemies, through having harmed nobody, so that
                     he is not aware of any imminent danger; since those especially appear to be threatened by danger, who have harmed others.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q45_A3-p8"> On the part of the bodily transmutation, daring is caused through the incitement of hope and the banishment of fear, by those
                     things which raise the temperature about the heart. Wherefore the Philosopher says (De Part. Animal. iii, 4) that "those whose
                     heart is small in size, are more daring; while animals whose heart is large are timid; because the natural heat is unable
                     to give the same degree of temperature to a large as to a small heart; just as a fire does not heat a large
                     house as well as it does a small house." He says also (De Problem. xxvii, 4), that "those whose lungs contain much blood,
                     are more daring, through the heat in the heart that results therefrom." He says also in the same passage that "lovers of wine
                     are more daring, on account of the heat of the wine": hence it has been said above (
                     <a id="FS_Q45_A3-p8.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q40_A6.html">Q[40], A[6]</a>) that drunkenness conduces to hope, since the heat in the heart banishes fear and raises hope, by reason of the dilatation
                     and
                     enlargement of the heart.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q45_A3-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> Drunkenness causes daring, not through being a defect, but through dilating the heart: and again through making a man think
                     greatly of himself.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q45_A3-p10">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> Those who have no experience of dangers are more daring, not on account of a defect, but accidentally, i.e. in so far as
                     through being inexperienced they do not know their own failings, nor the dangers that threaten. Hence it is that the removal
                     of the cause of fear gives rise to daring.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q45_A3-p11">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> As the Philosopher says (Rhet. ii, 5) "those who have been wronged are courageous, because they think that God comes to the
                     assistance of those who suffer unjustly."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q45_A3-p12"> Hence it is evident that no defect causes daring except accidentally, i.e. in so far as some excellence attaches thereto,
                     real or imaginary, either in oneself or in another.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q45_A3-p13"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q45_A3-p14"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q45_A2.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q45_A4.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q45_A4" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q45_A3.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q46.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q45_A4-p0.1">Whether the brave are more eager at first than in the midst of danger?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q45_A4-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q45_A4-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that the daring are not more eager at first than in the midst of danger. Because trembling is caused by fear,
                     which is contrary to daring, as stated above 
                     <a id="FS_Q45_A4-p2.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q45_A1.html">(A[1];</a> Q[44], A[3]). But the daring sometimes tremble at first, as the Philosopher says (De Problem. xxvii, 3). Therefore they are
                     not more eager at first than in the midst of danger.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q45_A4-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, passion is intensified by an increase in its object: thus since a good is lovable, what is better is yet more lovable.
                     But the object of daring is something difficult. Therefore the greater the difficulty, the greater the daring. But danger
                     is more arduous and difficult when present. It is then therefore that daring is greatest.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q45_A4-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, anger is provoked by the infliction of wounds. But anger causes daring; for the Philosopher says (Rhet. ii, 5) that
                     "anger makes man bold." Therefore when man is in the midst of danger and when he is being beaten, then is he most daring.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q45_A4-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> It is said in Ethic. iii, 7 that "the daring are precipitate and full of eagerness before the danger, yet in the midst of
                     dangers they stand aloof."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q45_A4-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> Daring, being a movement of the sensitive appetite, follows an apprehension of the sensitive faculty. But the sensitive faculty
                     cannot make comparisons, nor can it inquire into circumstances; its judgment is instantaneous. Now it happens sometimes that
                     it is impossible for a man to take note in an instant of all the difficulties of a certain situation: hence there arises the
                     movement of daring to face the danger; so that when he comes to experience the
                     danger, he feels the difficulty to be greater than he expected, and so gives way.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q45_A4-p7"> On the other hand, reason discusses all the difficulties of a situation. Consequently men of fortitude who face danger according
                     to the judgment of reason, at first seem slack, because they face the danger not from passion but with due deliberation. Yet
                     when they are in the midst of danger, they experience nothing unforeseen, but sometimes the difficulty turns out to be less
                     than they anticipated; wherefore they are more persevering. Moreover, it may be because they face the
                     danger on account of the good of virtue which is the abiding object of their will, however great the danger may prove: whereas
                     men of daring face the danger on account of a mere thought giving rise to hope and banishing fear, as stated above 
                     <a id="FS_Q45_A4-p7.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q45_A3.html">(A[3])</a>.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q45_A4-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> Trembling does occur in men of daring, on account of the heat being withdrawn from the outer to the inner parts of the body,
                     as occurs also in those who are afraid. But in men of daring the heat withdraws to the heart; whereas in those who are afraid,
                     it withdraws to the inferior parts.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q45_A4-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> The object of love is good simply, wherefore if it be increased, love is increased simply. But the object of daring is a
                     compound of good and evil; and the movement of daring towards evil presupposes the movement of hope towards good. If, therefore,
                     so much difficulty be added to the danger that it overcomes hope, the movement of daring does not ensue, but fails. But if
                     the movement of daring does ensue, the greater the danger, the greater is the
                     daring considered to be.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q45_A4-p10">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> Hurt does not give rise to anger unless there be some kind of hope, as we shall see later on (
                     <a id="FS_Q45_A4-p10.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q46_A1.html">Q[46], A[1]</a>). Consequently if the danger be so great as to banish all hope of victory, anger does not ensue. It is true, however, that
                     if anger does ensue, there will be greater daring.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q45_A4-p11"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q45_A4-p12"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q45_A3.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q46.html"></a>
               </div>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q44_A4.html"></a>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q45_A1.html"></a>
            </div>
            <div id="FS_Q46" class="div3">
               <a href="summa.FS_Q45_A4.html"></a>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q46_A1.html"></a>
               <h3 id="FS_Q46-p0.1">OF ANGER, IN ITSELF (EIGHT ARTICLES)</h3>
               <p id="FS_Q46-p1"></p>
               <p id="FS_Q46-p2"> We must now consider anger: and (1) anger in itself; (2) the cause of anger and its remedy; (3) the effect of anger.</p>
               <p id="FS_Q46-p3"> Under the first head there are eight points of inquiry:</p>
               <p id="FS_Q46-p4"> (1) Whether anger is a special passion?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q46-p5"> (2) Whether the object of anger is good or evil?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q46-p6"> (3) Whether anger is in the concupiscible faculty?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q46-p7"> (4) Whether anger is accompanied by an act of reason?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q46-p8"> (5) Whether anger is more natural than desire?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q46-p9"> (6) Whether anger is more grievous than hatred?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q46-p10"> (7) Whether anger is only towards those with whom we have a relation of justice?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q46-p11"> (8) Of the species of anger.</p>
               <div id="FS_Q46_A1" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q46.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q46_A2.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q46_A1-p0.1">Whether anger is a special passion?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A1-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A1-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that anger is not a special passion. For the irascible power takes its name from anger [ira]. But there are
                     several passions in this power, not only one. Therefore anger is not one special passion.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A1-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, to every special passion there is a contrary passion; as is evident by going through them one by one. But no passion
                     is contrary to anger, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q46_A1-p3.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q23_A3.html">Q[23], A[3]</a>). Therefore anger is not a special passion.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A1-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, one special passion does not include another. But anger includes several passions: since it accompanies sorrow,
                     pleasure, and hope, as the Philosopher states (Rhet. ii, 2). Therefore anger is not a special passion.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A1-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> Damascene (De Fide Orth. ii, 16) calls anger a special passion: and so does Cicero (De Quaest. Tusc. iv, 7).
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A1-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> A thing is said to be general in two ways. First, by predication; thus "animal" is general in respect of all animals. Secondly,
                     by causality; thus the sun is the general cause of all things generated here below, according to Dionysius (Div. Nom. iv).
                     Because just as a genus contains potentially many differences, according to a likeness of matter; so an efficient cause contains
                     many effects according to its active power. Now it happens that an effect is
                     produced by the concurrence of various causes; and since every cause remains somewhat in its effect, we may say that, in yet
                     a third way, an effect which is due to the concurrence of several causes, has a certain generality, inasmuch as several causes
                     are, in a fashion, actually existing therein.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A1-p7"> Accordingly in the first way, anger is not a general passion but is condivided with the other passions, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q46_A1-p7.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q23_A4.html">Q[23], A[4]</a>). In like manner, neither is it in the second way: since it is not a cause of the other passions. But in this way, love may
                     be called a general passion, as Augustine declares (De Civ. Dei xiv, 7,9), because love is the primary root of all the other
                     passions, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q46_A1-p7.2" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q27_A4.html">Q[27], A[4]</a> ). But, in a
                     third way, anger may be called a general passion, inasmuch as it is caused by a concurrence of several passions. Because the
                     movement of anger does not arise save on account of some pain inflicted, and unless there be desire and hope of revenge: for,
                     as the Philosopher says (Rhet. ii, 2), "the angry man hopes to punish; since he craves for revenge as being possible." Consequently
                     if the person, who inflicted the injury, excel very much, anger does not ensue, but only sorrow, as Avicenna states
                     (De Anima iv, 6).
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A1-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> The irascible power takes its name from "ira" [anger], not because every movement of that power is one of anger; but because
                     all its movements terminate in anger; and because, of all these movements, anger is the most patent.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A1-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> From the very fact that anger is caused by contrary passions, i.e. by hope, which is of good, and by sorrow, which is of
                     evil, it includes in itself contrariety: and consequently it has no contrary outside itself. Thus also in mixed colors there
                     is no contrariety, except that of the simple colors from which they are made.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A1-p10">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> Anger includes several passions, not indeed as a genus includes several species; but rather according to the inclusion of
                     cause and effect.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A1-p11"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A1-p12"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q46.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q46_A2.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q46_A2" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q46_A1.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q46_A3.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q46_A2-p0.1">Whether the object of anger is good or evil?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A2-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A2-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that the object of anger is evil. For Gregory of Nyssa says [*Nemesius, De Nat. Hom. xxi.] that anger is "the
                     sword-bearer of desire," inasmuch, to wit, as it assails whatever obstacle stands in the way of desire. But an obstacle has
                     the character of evil. Therefore anger regards evil as its object.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A2-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, anger and hatred agree in their effect, since each seeks to inflict harm on another. But hatred regards evil as
                     its object, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q46_A2-p3.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q29_A1.html">Q[29], A[1]</a>). Therefore anger does also.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A2-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, anger arises from sorrow; wherefore the Philosopher says (Ethic. viii, 6) that "anger acts with sorrow." But evil
                     is the object of sorrow. Therefore it is also the object of anger.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A2-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> Augustine says (Confess. ii, 6) that "anger craves for revenge." But the desire for revenge is a desire for something good:
                     since revenge belongs to justice. Therefore the object of anger is good.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A2-p6"> Moreover, anger is always accompanied by hope, wherefore it causes pleasure, as the Philosopher says (Rhet. ii, 2). But the
                     object of hope and of pleasure is good. Therefore good is also the object of anger.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A2-p7">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> The movement of the appetitive power follows an act of the apprehensive power. Now the apprehensive power apprehends a thing
                     in two ways. First, by way of an incomplex object, as when we understand what a man is; secondly, by way of a complex object,
                     as when we understand that whiteness is in a man. Consequently in each of these ways the appetitive power can tend to both
                     good and evil: by way of a simple and incomplex object, when the appetite simply follows
                     and adheres to good, or recoils from evil: and such movements are desire, hope, pleasure, sorrow, and so forth: by way of
                     a complex object, as when the appetite is concerned with some good or evil being in, or being done to, another, either seeking
                     this or recoiling from it. This is evident in the case of love and hatred: for we love someone, in so far as we wish some
                     good to be in him; and we hate someone, in so far as we wish some evil to be in him. It is the same with anger; for when a
                     man
                     is angry, he wishes to be avenged on someone. Hence the movement of anger has a twofold tendency: viz. to vengeance itself,
                     which it desires and hopes for as being a good, wherefore it takes pleasure in it; and to the person on whom it seeks vengeance,
                     as to something contrary and hurtful, which bears the character of evil.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A2-p8"> We must, however, observe a twofold difference in this respect, between anger on the one side, and hatred and love on the
                     other. The first difference is that anger always regards two objects: whereas love and hatred sometimes regard but one object,
                     as when a man is said to love wine or something of the kind, or to hate it. The second difference is, that both the objects
                     of love are good: since the lover wishes good to someone, as to something agreeable to himself: while both the
                     objects of hatred bear the character of evil: for the man who hates, wishes evil to someone, as to something disagreeable
                     to him. Whereas anger regards one object under the aspect of evil, viz. the noxious person, on whom it seeks to be avenged.
                     Consequently it is a passion somewhat made up of contrary passions.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A2-p9"> This suffices for the Replies to the Objections.</p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A2-p10"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A2-p11"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q46_A1.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q46_A3.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q46_A3" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q46_A2.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q46_A4.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q46_A3-p0.1">Whether anger is in the concupiscible faculty?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A3-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A3-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that anger is in the concupiscible faculty. For Cicero says (De Quaest. Tusc. iv, 9) that anger is a kind of
                     "desire." But desire is in the concupiscible faculty. Therefore anger is too.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A3-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, Augustine says in his Rule, that "anger grows into hatred": and Cicero says (De Quaest. Tusc. iv, 9) that "hatred
                     is inveterate anger." But hatred, like love, is a concupiscible passion. Therefore anger is in the concupiscible faculty.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A3-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, Damascene (De Fide Orth. ii, 16) and Gregory of Nyssa [*Nemesius, De Nat. Hom. xxi.] say that "anger is made up
                     of sorrow and desire." Both of these are in the concupiscible faculty. Therefore anger is a concupiscible passion.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A3-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> The concupiscible is distinct from the irascible faculty. If, therefore, anger were in the concupiscible power, the irascible
                     would not take its name from it.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A3-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> As stated above (Q[23], A[1]), the passions of the irascible part differ from the passions of the concupiscible faculty,
                     in that the objects of the concupiscible passions are good and evil absolutely considered, whereas the objects of the irascible
                     passions are good and evil in a certain elevation or arduousness. Now it has been stated 
                     <a id="FS_Q46_A3-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q46_A2.html">(A[2])</a> that anger regards two objects: viz. the vengeance that it seeks; and the person on whom it
                     seeks vengeance; and in respect of both, anger requires a certain arduousness: for the movement of anger does not arise, unless
                     there be some magnitude about both these objects; since "we make no ado about things that are naught or very minute," as the
                     Philosopher observes (Rhet. ii, 2). It is therefore evident that anger is not in the concupiscible, but in the irascible faculty.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A3-p7">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> Cicero gives the name of desire to any kind of craving for a future good, without discriminating between that which is arduous
                     and that which is not. Accordingly he reckons anger as a kind of desire, inasmuch as it is a desire of vengeance. In this
                     sense, however, desire is common to the irascible and concupiscible faculties.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A3-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> Anger is said to grow into hatred, not as though the same passion which at first was anger, afterwards becomes hatred by
                     becoming inveterate; but by a process of causality. For anger when it lasts a long time engenders hatred.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A3-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> Anger is said to be composed of sorrow and desire, not as though they were its parts, but because they are its causes: and
                     it has been said above (
                     <a id="FS_Q46_A3-p9.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q25_A2.html">Q[25], A[2]</a>) that the concupiscible passions are the causes of the irascible passions.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A3-p10"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A3-p11"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q46_A2.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q46_A4.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q46_A4" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q46_A3.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q46_A5.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q46_A4-p0.1">Whether anger requires an act of reason?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A4-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A4-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that anger does not require an act of reason. For, since anger is a passion, it is in the sensitive appetite.
                     But the sensitive appetite follows an apprehension, not of reason, but of the sensitive faculty. Therefore anger does not
                     require an act of reason.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A4-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, dumb animals are devoid of reason: and yet they are seen to be angry. Therefore anger does not require an act of
                     reason.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A4-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, drunkenness fetters the reason; whereas it is conducive to anger. Therefore anger does not require an act of reason.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A4-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> The Philosopher says (Ethic. vii, 6) that "anger listens to reason somewhat."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A4-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> As stated above 
                     <a id="FS_Q46_A4-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q46_A2.html">(A[2])</a>, anger is a desire for vengeance. Now vengeance implies a comparison between the punishment to be inflicted and the hurt
                     done; wherefore the Philosopher says (Ethic. vii, 6) that "anger, as if it had drawn the inference that it ought to quarrel
                     with such a person, is therefore immediately exasperated." Now to compare and to draw an inference is an act of reason. Therefore
                     anger, in a fashion, requires an act of
                     reason.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A4-p7">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> The movement of the appetitive power may follow an act of reason in two ways. In the first way, it follows the reason in
                     so far as the reason commands: and thus the will follows reason, wherefore it is called the rational appetite. In another
                     way, it follows reason in so far as the reason denounces, and thus anger follows reason. For the Philosopher says (De Problem.
                     xxviii, 3) that "anger follows reason, not in obedience to reason's command, but as a
                     result of reason's denouncing the injury." Because the sensitive appetite is subject to the reason, not immediately but through
                     the will.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A4-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> Dumb animals have a natural instinct imparted to them by the Divine Reason, in virtue of which they are gifted with movements,
                     both internal and external, like unto rational movements, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q46_A4-p8.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q40_A3.html">Q[40], A[3]</a>).
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A4-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> As stated in Ethic. vii, 6, "anger listens somewhat to reason" in so far as reason denounces the injury inflicted, "but listens
                     not perfectly," because it does not observe the rule of reason as to the measure of vengeance. Anger, therefore, requires
                     an act of reason; and yet proves a hindrance to reason. Wherefore the Philosopher says (De Problem. iii, 2,27) that whose
                     who are very drunk, so as to be incapable of the use of reason, do not get angry:
                     but those who are slightly drunk, do get angry, through being still able, though hampered, to form a judgment of reason.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A4-p10"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A4-p11"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q46_A3.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q46_A5.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q46_A5" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q46_A4.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q46_A6.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q46_A5-p0.1">Whether anger is more natural than desire?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A5-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A5-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that anger is not more natural than desire. Because it is proper to man to be by nature a gentle animal. But
                     "gentleness is contrary to anger," as the Philosopher states (Rhet. ii, 3). Therefore anger is no more natural than desire,
                     in fact it seems to be altogether unnatural to man.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A5-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, reason is contrasted with nature: since those things that act according to reason, are not said to act according
                     to nature. Now "anger requires an act of reason, but desire does not," as stated in Ethic. vii, 6. Therefore desire is more
                     natural than anger.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A5-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, anger is a craving for vengeance: while desire is a craving for those things especially which are pleasant to the
                     touch, viz. for pleasures of the table and for sexual pleasures. But these things are more natural to man than vengeance.
                     Therefore desire is more natural than anger.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A5-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> The Philosopher says (Ethic. vii, 6) that "anger is more natural than desire."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A5-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> By "natural" we mean that which is caused by nature, as stated in Phys. ii, 1. Consequently the question as to whether a
                     particular passion is more or less natural cannot be decided without reference to the cause of that passion. Now the cause
                     of a passion, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q46_A5-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q36_A2.html">Q[36], A[2]</a>), may be considered in two ways: first, on the part of the object; secondly, on the part of the subject. If then we consider
                     the cause of anger and of
                     desire, on the part of the object, thus desire, especially of pleasures of the table, and of sexual pleasures, is more natural
                     than anger; in so far as these pleasures are more natural to man than vengeance.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A5-p7"> If, however, we consider the cause of anger on the part of the subject, thus anger, in a manner, is more natural; and, in
                     a manner, desire is more natural. Because the nature of an individual man may be considered either as to the generic, or as
                     to the specific nature, or again as to the particular temperament of the individual. If then we consider the generic nature,
                     i.e. the nature of this man considered as an animal; thus desire is more natural than anger; because it is from
                     this very generic nature that man is inclined to desire those things which tend to preserve in him the life both of the species
                     and of the individual. If, however, we consider the specific nature, i.e. the nature of this man as a rational being; then
                     anger is more natural to man than desire, in so far as anger follows reason more than desire does. Wherefore the Philosopher
                     says (Ethic. iv, 5) that "revenge" which pertains to anger "is more natural to man than meekness": for it is natural to
                     everything to rise up against things contrary and hurtful. And if we consider the nature of the individual, in respect of
                     his particular temperament, thus anger is more natural than desire; for the reason that anger is prone to ensue from the natural
                     tendency to anger, more than desire, or any other passion, is to ensue from a natural tendency to desire, which tendencies
                     result from a man's individual temperament. Because disposition to anger is due to a bilious temperament; and of all the
                     humors, the bile moves quickest; for it is like fire. Consequently he that is temperamentally disposed to anger is sooner
                     incensed with anger, than he that is temperamentally disposed to desire, is inflamed with desire: and for this reason the
                     Philosopher says (Ethic. vii, 6) that a disposition to anger is more liable to be transmitted from parent to child, than a
                     disposition to desire.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A5-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> We may consider in man both the natural temperament on the part of the body, and the reason. On the part of the bodily temperament,
                     a man, considered specifically, does not naturally excel others either in anger or in any other passion, on account of the
                     moderation of his temperament. But other animals, for as much as their temperament recedes from this moderation and approaches
                     to an extreme disposition, are naturally disposed to some excess of
                     passion, such as the lion in daring, the hound in anger, the hare in fear, and so forth. On the part of reason, however, it
                     is natural to man, both to be angry and to be gentle: in so far as reason somewhat causes anger, by denouncing the injury
                     which causes anger; and somewhat appeases anger, in so far as the angry man "does not listen perfectly to the command of reason,"
                     as stated above (A[4], ad 3).
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A5-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> Reason itself belongs to the nature of man: wherefore from the very fact that anger requires an act of reason, it follows
                     that it is, in a manner, natural to man.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A5-p10">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> This argument regards anger and desire on the part of the object.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A5-p11"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A5-p12"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q46_A4.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q46_A6.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q46_A6" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q46_A5.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q46_A7.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q46_A6-p0.1">Whether anger is more grievous than hatred?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A6-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A6-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that anger is more grievous than hatred. For it is written (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q46_A6-p2.1" href="./asv.html#Prov.27.4" target="asv">Prov. 27:4</a>) that "anger hath no mercy, nor fury when it breaketh forth." But hatred sometimes has mercy. Therefore anger is more grievous
                     than hatred.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A6-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, it is worse to suffer evil and to grieve for it, than merely to suffer it. But when a man hates, he is contented
                     if the object of his hatred suffer evil: whereas the angry man is not satisfied unless the object of his anger know it and
                     be aggrieved thereby, as the Philosopher says (Rhet. ii, 4). Therefore, anger is more grievous than hatred.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A6-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, a thing seems to be so much the more firm according as more things concur to set it up: thus a habit is all the
                     more settled through being caused by several acts. But anger is caused by the concurrence of several passions, as stated above
                     
                     <a id="FS_Q46_A6-p4.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q46_A1.html">(A[1])</a>: whereas hatred is not. Therefore anger is more settled and more grievous than hatred.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A6-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> Augustine, in his Rule, compares hatred to "a beam," but anger to "a mote."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A6-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> The species and nature of a passion are taken from its object. Now the object of anger is the same in substance as the object
                     of hatred; since, just as the hater wishes evil to him whom he hates, so does the angry man wish evil to him with whom he
                     is angry. But there is a difference of aspect: for the hater wishes evil to his enemy, as evil, whereas the angry man wishes
                     evil to him with whom he is angry, not as evil but in so far as it has an aspect of good,
                     that is, in so far as he reckons it as just, since it is a means of vengeance. Wherefore also it has been said above 
                     <a id="FS_Q46_A6-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q46_A2.html">(A[2])</a> that hatred implies application of evil to evil, whereas anger denotes application of good to evil. Now it is evident that
                     to seek evil under the aspect of justice, is a lesser evil, than simply to seek evil to someone. Because to wish evil to someone
                     under the aspect of justice, may be according to the virtue of justice, if it be in conformity
                     with the order of reason; and anger fails only in this, that it does not obey the precept of reason in taking vengeance. Consequently
                     it is evident that hatred is far worse and graver than anger.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A6-p7">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> In anger and hatred two points may be considered: namely, the thing desired, and the intensity of the desire. As to the thing
                     desired, anger has more mercy than hatred has. For since hatred desires another's evil for evil's sake, it is satisfied with
                     no particular measure of evil: because those things that are desired for their own sake, are desired without measure, as the
                     Philosopher states (Polit. i, 3), instancing a miser with regard to riches.
                     Hence it is written (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q46_A6-p7.1" href="./asv.html#Sir.12.16" target="asv">Ecclus. 12:16</a>): "An enemy . . . if he find an opportunity, will not be satisfied with blood." Anger, on the other hand, seeks evil only
                     under the aspect of a just means of vengeance. Consequently when the evil inflicted goes beyond the measure of justice according
                     to the estimate of the angry man, then he has mercy. Wherefore the Philosopher says (Rhet. ii, 4) that "the angry man is appeased
                     if many evils befall, whereas the hater is never
                     appeased."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A6-p8"> As to the intensity of the desire, anger excludes mercy more than hatred does; because the movement of anger is more impetuous,
                     through the heating of the bile. Hence the passage quoted continues: "Who can bear the violence of one provoked?"
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A6-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> As stated above, an angry man wishes evil to someone, in so far as this evil is a means of just vengeance. Now vengeance
                     is wrought by the infliction of a punishment: and the nature of punishment consists in being contrary to the will, painful,
                     and inflicted for some fault. Consequently an angry man desires this, that the person whom he is hurting, may feel it and
                     be in pain, and know that this has befallen him on account of the harm he has done the
                     other. The hater, on the other hand, cares not for all this, since he desires another's evil as such. It is not true, however,
                     that an evil is worse through giving pain: because "injustice and imprudence, although evil," yet, being voluntary, "do not
                     grieve those in whom they are," as the Philosopher observes (Rhet. ii, 4).
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A6-p10">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> That which proceeds from several causes, is more settled when these causes are of one kind: but it may be that one cause
                     prevails over many others. Now hatred ensues from a more lasting cause than anger does. Because anger arises from an emotion
                     of the soul due to the wrong inflicted; whereas hatred ensues from a disposition in a man, by reason of which he considers
                     that which he hates to be contrary and hurtful to him. Consequently, as passion is
                     more transitory than disposition or habit, so anger is less lasting than hatred; although hatred itself is a passion ensuing
                     from this disposition. Hence the Philosopher says (Rhet. ii, 4) that "hatred is more incurable than anger."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A6-p11"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A6-p12"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q46_A5.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q46_A7.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q46_A7" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q46_A6.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q46_A8.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q46_A7-p0.1">Whether anger is only towards those to whom one has an obligation of justice?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A7-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A7-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that anger is not only towards those to whom one has an obligation of justice. For there is no justice between
                     man and irrational beings. And yet sometimes one is angry with irrational beings; thus, out of anger, a writer throws away
                     his pen, or a rider strikes his horse. Therefore anger is not only towards those to whom one has an obligation of justice.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A7-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, "there is no justice towards oneself . . . nor is there justice towards one's own" (Ethic. v, 6). But sometimes
                     a man is angry with himself; for instance, a penitent, on account of his sin; hence it is written (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q46_A7-p3.1" href="./asv.html#Ps.4.5" target="asv">Ps. 4:5</a>): "Be ye angry and sin not." Therefore anger is not only towards those with whom one has a relation of justice.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A7-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, justice and injustice can be of one man towards an entire class, or a whole community: for instance, when the state
                     injures an individual. But anger is not towards a class but only towards an individual, as the Philosopher states (Rhet. ii,
                     4). Therefore properly speaking, anger is not towards those with whom one is in relation of justice or injustice.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A7-p5"> The contrary, however, may be gathered from the Philosopher (Rhet. ii, 2,3).</p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A7-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> As stated above 
                     <a id="FS_Q46_A7-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q46_A6.html">(A[6])</a>, anger desires evil as being a means of just vengeance. Consequently, anger is towards those to whom we are just or unjust:
                     since vengeance is an act of justice, and wrong-doing is an act of injustice. Therefore both on the part of the cause, viz.
                     the harm done by another, and on the part of the vengeance sought by the angry man, it is evident that anger concerns those
                     to whom one is just or unjust.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A7-p7">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> As stated above (A[4], ad 2), anger, though it follows an act of reason, can nevertheless be in dumb animals that are devoid
                     of reason, in so far as through their natural instinct they are moved by their imagination to something like rational action.
                     Since then in man there is both reason and imagination, the movement of anger can be aroused in man in two ways. First, when
                     only his imagination denounces the injury: and, in this way, man is aroused to
                     a movement of anger even against irrational and inanimate beings, which movement is like that which occurs in animals against
                     anything that injures them. Secondly, by the reason denouncing the injury: and thus, according to the Philosopher (Rhet. ii,
                     3), "it is impossible to be angry with insensible things, or with the dead": both because they feel no pain, which is, above
                     all, what the angry man seeks in those with whom he is angry: and because there is no question of vengeance on them, since
                     they can do us no harm.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A7-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> As the Philosopher says (Ethic. v, 11), "metaphorically speaking there is a certain justice and injustice between a man and
                     himself," in so far as the reason rules the irascible and concupiscible parts of the soul. And in this sense a man is said
                     to be avenged on himself, and consequently, to be angry with himself. But properly, and in accordance with the nature of things,
                     a man is never angry with himself.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A7-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> The Philosopher (Rhet. ii, 4) assigns as one difference between hatred and anger, that "hatred may be felt towards a class,
                     as we hate the entire class of thieves; whereas anger is directed only towards an individual." The reason is that hatred arises
                     from our considering a quality as disagreeing with our disposition; and this may refer to a thing in general or in particular.
                     Anger, on the other hand, ensues from someone having injured us by his
                     action. Now all actions are the deeds of individuals: and consequently anger is always pointed at an individual. When the
                     whole state hurts us, the whole state is reckoned as one individual [*Cf.
                     <a id="FS_Q46_A7-p9.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q29_A6.html"> Q[29], A[6]</a>].
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A7-p10"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A7-p11"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q46_A6.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q46_A8.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q46_A8" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q46_A7.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q47.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q46_A8-p0.1">Whether the species of anger are suitably assigned?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A8-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A8-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that Damascene (De Fide Orth. ii, 16) unsuitably assigns three species of anger---"wrath," "ill-will" and "rancor."
                     For no genus derives its specific differences from accidents. But these three are diversified in respect of an accident: because
                     "the beginning of the movement of anger is called wrath {cholos}, if anger continue it is called ill-will {menis}; while rancor
                     {kotos} is anger waiting for an opportunity of vengeance." Therefore these
                     are not different species of anger.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A8-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, Cicero says (De Quaest. Tusc. iv, 9) that "excandescentia [irascibility] is what the Greeks call {thymosis}, and
                     is a kind of anger that arises and subsides intermittently"; while according to Damascene {thymosis}, is the same as the Greek
                     {kotos} [rancor]. Therefore {kotos} does not bide its time for taking vengeance, but in course of time spends itself.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A8-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, Gregory (Moral. xxi, 4) gives three degrees of anger, namely, "anger without utterance, anger with utterance, and
                     anger with perfection of speech," corresponding to the three degrees mentioned by Our Lord (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q46_A8-p4.1" href="./asv.html#Matt.5.22" target="asv">Mat. 5:22</a>): "Whosoever is angry with his brother" [thus implying "anger without utterance"], and then, "whosoever shall say to his
                     brother, 'Raca'" [implying "anger with utterance yet without full expression"], and lastly,
                     "whosoever shall say 'Thou fool'" [where we have "perfection of speech"]. Therefore Damascene's division is imperfect, since
                     it takes no account of utterance.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A8-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> stands the authority of Damascene (De Fide Orth. ii, 16) and Gregory of Nyssa [*Nemesius, De Nat. Hom. xxi.].
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A8-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> The species of anger given by Damascene and Gregory of Nyssa are taken from those things which give increase to anger. This
                     happens in three ways. First from facility of the movement itself, and he calls this kind of anger {cholos} [bile] because
                     it quickly aroused. Secondly, on the part of the grief that causes anger, and which dwells some time in the memory; this belongs
                     to {menis} [ill-will] which is derived from {menein} [to dwell]. Thirdly, on the part
                     of that which the angry man seeks, viz. vengeance; and this pertains to {kotos} [rancor] which never rests until it is avenged
                     [*
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q46_A8-p6.1" href="./asv.html#Eph.4.31" target="asv">Eph. 4:31</a>: "Let all bitterness and anger and indignation . . . be put away from you."]. Hence the Philosopher (Ethic. iv, 5) calls
                     some angry persons {akrocholoi} [choleric], because they are easily angered; some he calls {pikroi} [bitter], because they
                     retain their anger for a long time; and some he calls {chalepoi} [ill-tempered], because they
                     never rest until they have retaliated [*Cf. 
                     <a id="FS_Q46_A8-p6.2" shape="rect" href="summa.SS_Q158_A5.html">SS, Q[158], A[5]</a>].
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A8-p7">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> All those things which give anger some kind of perfection are not altogether accidental to anger; and consequently nothing
                     prevents them from causing a certain specific difference thereof.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A8-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> Irascibility, which Cicero mentions, seems to pertain to the first species of anger, which consists in a certain quickness
                     of temper, rather than to rancor [furor]. And there is no reason why the Greek {thymosis}, which is denoted by the Latin "furor,"
                     should not signify both quickness to anger, and firmness of purpose in being avenged.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A8-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> These degrees are distinguished according to various effects of anger; and not according to degrees of perfection in the
                     very movement of anger.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A8-p10"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q46_A8-p11"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q46_A7.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q47.html"></a>
               </div>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q45_A4.html"></a>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q46_A1.html"></a>
            </div>
            <div id="FS_Q47" class="div3">
               <a href="summa.FS_Q46_A8.html"></a>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q47_A1.html"></a>
               <h3 id="FS_Q47-p0.1">OF THE CAUSE THAT PROVOKES ANGER, AND OF THE REMEDIES OF ANGER (FOUR ARTICLES) [*There is no further mention of these remedies
                  in the text, except in A[4].]
               </h3>
               <p id="FS_Q47-p1"></p>
               <p id="FS_Q47-p2"> We must now consider the cause that provokes anger, and its remedies. Under this head there are four points of inquiry:</p>
               <p id="FS_Q47-p3"> (1) Whether the motive of anger is always something done against the one who is angry?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q47-p4"> (2) Whether slight or contempt is the sole motive of anger?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q47-p5"> (3) Of the cause of anger on the part of the angry person;</p>
               <p id="FS_Q47-p6"> (4) Of the cause of anger on the part of the person with whom one is angry.</p>
               <div id="FS_Q47_A1" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q47.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q47_A2.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q47_A1-p0.1">Whether the motive of anger is always something done against the one who is angry?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q47_A1-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q47_A1-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that the motive of anger is not always something done against the one who is angry. Because man, by sinning,
                     can do nothing against God; since it is written (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q47_A1-p2.1" href="./asv.html#Job.35.6" target="asv">Job 35:6</a>): "If thy iniquities be multiplied, what shalt thou do against Him?" And yet God is spoken of as being angry with man on
                     account of sin, according to
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q47_A1-p2.2" href="./asv.html#Ps.105.40" target="asv"> Ps. 105:40</a>: "The Lord was exceedingly angry with His people." Therefore it is not always on
                     account of something done against him, that a man is angry.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q47_A1-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, anger is a desire for vengeance. But one may desire vengeance for things done against others. Therefore we are not
                     always angry on account of something done against us.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q47_A1-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, as the Philosopher says (Rhet. ii, 2) man is angry especially with those "who despise what he takes a great interest
                     in; thus men who study philosophy are angry with those who despise philosophy," and so forth. But contempt of philosophy does
                     not harm the philosopher. Therefore it is not always a harm done to us that makes us angry.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q47_A1-p5">
                     <b>Objection 4:</b> Further, he that holds his tongue when another insults him, provokes him to greater anger, as Chrysostom observes (Hom. xxii,
                     in Ep. ad Rom.). But by holding his tongue he does the other no harm. Therefore a man is not always provoked to anger by something
                     done against him.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q47_A1-p6">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> The Philosopher says (Rhet. ii, 4) that "anger is always due to something done to oneself: whereas hatred may arise without
                     anything being done to us, for we hate a man simply because we think him such."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q47_A1-p7">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> As stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q47_A1-p7.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q46_A6.html">Q[46], A[6]</a>), anger is the desire to hurt another for the purpose of just vengeance. Now unless some injury has been done, there is no
                     question of vengeance: nor does any injury provoke one to vengeance, but only that which is done to the person who seeks vengeance:
                     for just as everything naturally seeks its own good, so does it naturally repel its own evil. But injury done by anyone does
                     not affect a man unless in
                     some way it be something done against him. Consequently the motive of a man's anger is always something done against him.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q47_A1-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> We speak of anger in God, not as of a passion of the soul but as of judgment of justice, inasmuch as He wills to take vengeance
                     on sin. Because the sinner, by sinning, cannot do God any actual harm: but so far as he himself is concerned, he acts against
                     God in two ways. First, in so far as he despises God in His commandments. Secondly, in so far as he harms himself or another;
                     which injury redounds to God, inasmuch as the person injured is an object
                     of God's providence and protection.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q47_A1-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> If we are angry with those who harm others, and seek to be avenged on them, it is because those who are injured belong in
                     some way to us: either by some kinship or friendship, or at least because of the nature we have in common.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q47_A1-p10">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> When we take a very great interest in a thing, we look upon it as our own good; so that if anyone despise it, it seems as
                     though we ourselves were despised and injured.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q47_A1-p11">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 4:</b> Silence provokes the insulter to anger when he thinks it is due to contempt, as though his anger were slighted: and a slight
                     is an action.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q47_A1-p12"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q47_A1-p13"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q47.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q47_A2.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q47_A2" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q47_A1.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q47_A3.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q47_A2-p0.1">Whether the sole motive of anger is slight or contempt?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q47_A2-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q47_A2-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that slight or contempt is not the sole motive of anger. For Damascene says (De Fide Orth. ii, 16) that we
                     are angry "when we suffer, or think that we are suffering, an injury." But one may suffer an injury without being despised
                     or slighted. Therefore a slight is not the only motive of anger.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q47_A2-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, desire for honor and grief for a slight belong to the same subject. But dumb animals do not desire honor. Therefore
                     they are not grieved by being slighted. And yet "they are roused to anger, when wounded," as the Philosopher says (Ethic.
                     iii, 8). Therefore a slight is not the sole motive of anger.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q47_A2-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, the Philosopher (Rhet. ii, 2) gives many other causes of anger, for instance, "being forgotten by others; that others
                     should rejoice in our misfortunes; that they should make known our evils; being hindered from doing as we like." Therefore
                     being slighted is not the only motive for being angry.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q47_A2-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> The Philosopher says (Rhet. ii, 2) that anger is "a desire, with sorrow, for vengeance, on account of a seeming slight done
                     unbecomingly."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q47_A2-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> All the causes of anger are reduced to slight. For slight is of three kinds, as stated in Rhet. ii, 2, viz. "contempt," "despiteful
                     treatment," i.e. hindering one from doing one's will, and "insolence": and all motives of anger are reduced to these three.
                     Two reasons may be assigned for this. First, because anger seeks another's hurt as being a means of just vengeance: wherefore
                     it seeks vengeance in so far as it seems just. Now just vengeance is taken only
                     for that which is done unjustly; hence that which provokes anger is always something considered in the light of an injustice.
                     Wherefore the Philosopher says (Rhet. ii, 3) that "men are not angry---if they think they have wronged some one and are suffering
                     justly on that account; because there is no anger at what is just." Now injury is done to another in three ways: namely, through
                     ignorance, through passion, and through choice. Then, most of all, a man does an injustice, when he does an injury
                     from choice, on purpose, or from deliberate malice, as stated in Ethic. v, 8. Wherefore we are most of all angry with those
                     who, in our opinion, have hurt us on purpose. For if we think that some one has done us an injury through ignorance or through
                     passion, either we are not angry with them at all, or very much less: since to do anything through ignorance or through passion
                     takes away from the notion of injury, and to a certain extent calls for mercy and forgiveness. Those, on the other hand,
                     who do an injury on purpose, seem to sin from contempt; wherefore we are angry with them most of all. Hence the Philosopher
                     says (Rhet. ii, 3) that "we are either not angry at all, or not very angry with those who have acted through anger, because
                     they do not seem to have acted slightingly."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q47_A2-p7"> The second reason is because a slight is opposed to a man's excellence: because "men think little of things that are not
                     worth much ado" (Rhet. ii, 2). Now we seek for some kind of excellence from all our goods. Consequently whatever injury is
                     inflicted on us, in so far as it is derogatory to our excellence, seems to savor of a slight.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q47_A2-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> Any other cause, besides contempt, through which a man suffers an injury, takes away from the notion of injury: contempt
                     or slight alone adds to the motive of anger, and consequently is of itself the cause of anger.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q47_A2-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> Although a dumb animal does not seek honor as such, yet it naturally seeks a certain superiority, and is angry with anything
                     derogatory thereto.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q47_A2-p10">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> Each of those causes amounts to some kind of slight. Thus forgetfulness is a clear sign of slight esteem, for the more we
                     think of a thing the more is it fixed in our memory. Again if a man does not hesitate by his remarks to give pain to another,
                     this seems to show that he thinks little of him: and those too who show signs of hilarity when another is in misfortune, seem
                     to care little about his good or evil. Again he that hinders another from
                     carrying out his will, without deriving thereby any profit to himself, seems not to care much for his friendship. Consequently
                     all those things, in so far as they are signs of contempt, provoke anger.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q47_A2-p11"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q47_A2-p12"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q47_A1.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q47_A3.html"></a>
               </div>
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                  <a href="summa.FS_Q47_A2.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q47_A4.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q47_A3-p0.1">Whether a man's excellence is the cause of his being angry?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q47_A3-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q47_A3-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that a man's excellence is not the cause of his being more easily angry. For the Philosopher says (Rhet. ii,
                     2) that "some are angry especially when they are grieved, for instance, the sick, the poor, and those who are disappointed."
                     But these things seem to pertain to defect. Therefore defect rather than excellence makes one prone to anger.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q47_A3-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, the Philosopher says (Rhet. ii, 2) that "some are very much inclined to be angry when they are despised for some
                     failing or weakness of the existence of which there are grounds for suspicion; but if they think they excel in those points,
                     they do not trouble." But a suspicion of this kind is due to some defect. Therefore defect rather than excellence is a cause
                     of a man being angry.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q47_A3-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, whatever savors of excellence makes a man agreeable and hopeful. But the Philosopher says (Rhet. ii, 3) that "men
                     are not angry when they play, make jokes, or take part in a feast, nor when they are prosperous or successful, nor in moderate
                     pleasures and well-founded hope." Therefore excellence is not a cause of anger.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q47_A3-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> The Philosopher says (Rhet. ii, 9) that excellence makes men prone to anger.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q47_A3-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> The cause of anger, in the man who is angry, may be taken in two ways. First in respect of the motive of anger: and thus
                     excellence is the cause of a man being easily angered. Because the motive of anger is an unjust slight, as stated above 
                     <a id="FS_Q47_A3-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q47_A2.html">(A[2])</a>. Now it is evident that the more excellent a man is, the more unjust is a slight offered him in the matter in which he excels.
                     Consequently those who excel in any matter, are most of all
                     angry, if they be slighted in that matter; for instance, a wealthy man in his riches, or an orator in his eloquence, and so
                     forth.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q47_A3-p7"> Secondly, the cause of anger, in the man who is angry, may be considered on the part of the disposition produced in him by
                     the motive aforesaid. Now it is evident that nothing moves a man to anger except a hurt that grieves him: while whatever savors
                     of defect is above all a cause of grief; since men who suffer from some defect are more easily hurt. And this is why men who
                     are weak, or subject to some other defect, are more easily angered, since they are more easily grieved.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q47_A3-p8"> This suffices for the Reply to the First Objection.</p>
                  <p id="FS_Q47_A3-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> If a man be despised in a matter in which he evidently excels greatly, he does not consider himself the loser thereby, and
                     therefore is not grieved: and in this respect he is less angered. But in another respect, in so far as he is more undeservedly
                     despised, he has more reason for being angry: unless perhaps he thinks that he is envied or insulted not through contempt
                     but through ignorance, or some other like cause.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q47_A3-p10">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> All these things hinder anger in so far as they hinder sorrow. But in another respect they are naturally apt to provoke anger,
                     because they make it more unseemly to insult anyone.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q47_A3-p11"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q47_A3-p12"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q47_A2.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q47_A4.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q47_A4" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q47_A3.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q48.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q47_A4-p0.1">Whether a person's defect is a reason for being more easily angry with him?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q47_A4-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q47_A4-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that a person's defect is not a reason for being more easily angry with him. For the Philosopher says (Rhet.
                     ii, 3) that "we are not angry with those who confess and repent and humble themselves; on the contrary, we are gentle with
                     them. Wherefore dogs bite not those who sit down." But these things savor of littleness and defect. Therefore littleness of
                     a person is a reason for being less angry with him.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q47_A4-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, there is no greater defect than death. But anger ceases at the sight of death. Therefore defect of a person does
                     not provoke anger against him.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q47_A4-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, no one thinks little of a man through his being friendly towards him. But we are more angry with friends, if they
                     offend us or refuse to help us; hence it is written (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q47_A4-p4.1" href="./asv.html#Ps.54.13" target="asv">Ps. 54:13</a>): "If my enemy had reviled me I would verily have borne with it." Therefore a person's defect is not a reason for being more
                     easily angry with him.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q47_A4-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> The Philosopher says (Rhet. ii, 2) that "the rich man is angry with the poor man, if the latter despise him; and in like
                     manner the prince is angry with his subject."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q47_A4-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> As stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q47_A4-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q47_A2.html">AA[2]</a>,3) unmerited contempt more than anything else is a provocative of anger. Consequently deficiency or littleness in the person
                     with whom we are angry, tends to increase our anger, in so far as it adds to the unmeritedness of being despised. For just
                     as the higher a man's position is, the more undeservedly he is despised; so the lower it is, the less reason he has for despising.
                     Thus a nobleman is angry if he be
                     insulted by a peasant; a wise man, if by a fool; a master, if by a servant.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q47_A4-p7"> If, however, the littleness or deficiency lessens the unmerited contempt, then it does not increase but lessens anger. In
                     this way those who repent of their ill-deeds, and confess that they have done wrong, who humble themselves and ask pardon,
                     mitigate anger, according to 
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q47_A4-p7.1" href="./asv.html#Prov.15.1" target="asv">Prov. 15:1</a>: "A mild answer breaketh wrath": because, to wit, they seem not to despise, but rather to think much of those before whom
                     they humble themselves.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q47_A4-p8"> This suffices for the Reply to the First Objection.</p>
                  <p id="FS_Q47_A4-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> There are two reasons why anger ceases at the sight of death. One is because the dead are incapable of sorrow and sensation;
                     and this is chiefly what the angry seek in those with whom they are angered. Another reason is because the dead seem to have
                     attained to the limit of evils. Hence anger ceases in regard to all who are grievously hurt, in so far as this hurt surpasses
                     the measure of just retaliation.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q47_A4-p10">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> To be despised by one's friends seems also a greater indignity. Consequently if they despise us by hurting or by failing
                     to help, we are angry with them for the same reason for which we are angry with those who are beneath us.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q47_A4-p11"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q47_A4-p12"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q47_A3.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q48.html"></a>
               </div>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q46_A8.html"></a>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q47_A1.html"></a>
            </div>
            <div id="FS_Q48" class="div3">
               <a href="summa.FS_Q47_A4.html"></a>
               <a href="summa.FS_Q48_A1.html"></a>
               <h3 id="FS_Q48-p0.1">OF THE EFFECTS OF ANGER (FOUR ARTICLES)</h3>
               <p id="FS_Q48-p1"></p>
               <p id="FS_Q48-p2"> We must now consider the effects of anger: under which head there are four points of inquiry:</p>
               <p id="FS_Q48-p3"> (1) Whether anger causes pleasure?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q48-p4"> (2) Whether above all it causes heat in the heart?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q48-p5"> (3) Whether above all it hinders the use of reason?</p>
               <p id="FS_Q48-p6"> (4) Whether it causes taciturnity?</p>
               <div id="FS_Q48_A1" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q48.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q48_A2.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q48_A1-p0.1">Whether anger causes pleasure?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q48_A1-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q48_A1-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that anger does not cause pleasure. Because sorrow excludes pleasure. But anger is never without sorrow, since,
                     as stated in Ethic. vii, 6, "everyone that acts from anger, acts with pain." Therefore anger does not cause pleasure.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q48_A1-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, the Philosopher says (Ethic. iv, 5) that "vengeance makes anger to cease, because it substitutes pleasure for pain":
                     whence we may gather that the angry man derives pleasure from vengeance, and that vengeance quells his anger. Therefore on
                     the advent of pleasure, anger departs: and consequently anger is not an effect united with pleasure.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q48_A1-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, no effect hinders its cause, since it is conformed to its cause. But pleasure hinders anger as stated in Rhet. ii,
                     3. Therefore pleasure is not an effect of anger.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q48_A1-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> The Philosopher (Ethic. iv, 5) quotes the saying that anger is "Sweet to the soul as honey to the taste" (Iliad, xviii, 109
                     [trl. Pope]).
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q48_A1-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> As the Philosopher says (Ethic. vii, 14), pleasures, chiefly sensible and bodily pleasures, are remedies against sorrow:
                     and therefore the greater the sorrow or anxiety, the more sensible are we to the pleasure which heals it, as is evident in
                     the case of thirst which increases the pleasure of drink. Now it is clear from what has been said (
                     <a id="FS_Q48_A1-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q47_A1.html">Q[47], AA[1]</a>,3), that the movement of anger arises from a wrong done that causes sorrow, for
                     which sorrow vengeance is sought as a remedy. Consequently as soon as vengeance is present, pleasure ensues, and so much the
                     greater according as the sorrow was greater. Therefore if vengeance be really present, perfect pleasure ensues, entirely excluding
                     sorrow, so that the movement of anger ceases. But before vengeance is really present, it becomes present to the angry man
                     in two ways: in one way, by hope; because none is angry except he hopes for vengeance, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q48_A1-p6.2" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q46_A1.html">Q[46], A[1]</a>); in another way, by thinking of it continually, for to everyone that desires a thing it is pleasant to dwell on the thought
                     of what he desires; wherefore the imaginings of dreams are pleasant. Accordingly an angry man takes pleasure in thinking much
                     about vengeance. This pleasure, however, is not perfect, so as to banish sorrow and consequently anger.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q48_A1-p7">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> The angry man does not grieve and rejoice at the same thing; he grieves for the wrong done, while he takes pleasure in the
                     thought and hope of vengeance. Consequently sorrow is to anger as its beginning; while pleasure is the effect or terminus
                     of anger.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q48_A1-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> This argument holds in regard to pleasure caused by the real presence of vengeance, which banishes anger altogether.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q48_A1-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> Pleasure that precedes hinders sorrow from ensuing, and consequently is a hindrance to anger. But pleasure felt in taking
                     vengeance follows from anger.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q48_A1-p10"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q48_A1-p11"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q48.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q48_A2.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q48_A2" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q48_A1.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q48_A3.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q48_A2-p0.1">Whether anger above all causes fervor in the heart?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q48_A2-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q48_A2-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that heat is not above all the effect of anger. For fervor, as stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q48_A2-p2.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q28_A5.html">Q[28], A[5]</a>;
                     <a id="FS_Q48_A2-p2.2" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q37_A2.html"> Q[37], A[2]</a>), belongs to love. But love, as above stated, is the beginning and cause of all the passions. Since then the cause is more
                     powerful than its effect, it seems that anger is not the chief cause of fervor.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q48_A2-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, those things which, of themselves, arouse fervor, increase as time goes on; thus love grows stronger the longer
                     it lasts. But in course of time anger grows weaker; for the Philosopher says (Rhet. ii, 3) that "time puts an end to anger."
                     Therefore fervor is not the proper effect of anger.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q48_A2-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, fervor added to fervor produces greater fervor. But "the addition of a greater anger banishes already existing anger,"
                     as the Philosopher says (Rhet. ii, 3). Therefore anger does not cause fervor.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q48_A2-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> Damascene says (De Fide Orth. ii, 16) that "anger is fervor of the blood around the heart, resulting from an exhalation of
                     the bile."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q48_A2-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> As stated above (
                     <a id="FS_Q48_A2-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q44_A1.html">Q[44], A[1]</a>), the bodily transmutation that occurs in the passions of the soul is proportionate to the movement of the appetite. Now
                     it is evident that every appetite, even the natural appetite, tends with greater force to repel that which is contrary to
                     it, if it be present: hence we see that hot water freezes harder, as though the cold acted with greater force on the hot object.
                     Since then the appetitive movement
                     of anger is caused by some injury inflicted, as by a contrary that is present; it follows that the appetite tends with great
                     force to repel the injury by the desire of vengeance; and hence ensues great vehemence and impetuosity in the movement of
                     anger. And because the movement of anger is not one of recoil, which corresponds to the action of cold, but one of prosecution,
                     which corresponds to the action of heat, the result is that the movement of anger produces fervor of the blood and vital
                     spirits around the heart, which is the instrument of the soul's passions. And hence it is that, on account of the heart being
                     so disturbed by anger, those chiefly who are angry betray signs thereof in their outer members. For, as Gregory says (Moral.
                     v, 30) "the heart that is inflamed with the stings of its own anger beats quick, the body trembles, the tongue stammers, the
                     countenance takes fire, the eyes grow fierce, they that are well known are not recognized. With the mouth indeed he shapes
                     a sound, but the understanding knows not what it says."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q48_A2-p7">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> "Love itself is not felt so keenly as in the absence of the beloved," as Augustine observes (De Trin. x, 12). Consequently
                     when a man suffers from a hurt done to the excellence that he loves, he feels his love thereof the more: the result being
                     that his heart is moved with greater heat to remove the hindrance to the object of his love; so that anger increases the fervor
                     of love and makes it to be felt more.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q48_A2-p8"> Nevertheless, the fervor arising from heat differs according as it is to be referred to love or to anger. Because the fervor
                     of love has a certain sweetness and gentleness; for it tends to the good that one loves: whence it is likened to the warmth
                     of the air and of the blood. For this reason sanguine temperaments are more inclined to love; and hence the saying that "love
                     springs from the liver," because of the blood being formed there. On the other hand, the fervor of anger has
                     a certain bitterness with a tendency to destroy, for it seeks to be avenged on the contrary evil: whence it is likened to
                     the heat of fire and of the bile, and for this reason Damascene says (De Fide Orth. ii, 16) that it "results from an exhalation
                     of the bile whence it takes its name {chole}."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q48_A2-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> Time, of necessity, weakens all those things, the causes of which are impaired by time. Now it is evident that memory is
                     weakened by time; for things which happened long ago easily slip from our memory. But anger is caused by the memory of a wrong
                     done. Consequently the cause of anger is impaired little by little as time goes on, until at length it vanishes altogether.
                     Moreover a wrong seems greater when it is first felt; and our estimate thereof is
                     gradually lessened the further the sense of present wrong recedes into the past. The same applies to love, so long as the
                     cause of love is in the memory alone; wherefore the Philosopher says (Ethic. viii, 5) that "if a friend's absence lasts long,
                     it seems to make men forget their friendship." But in the presence of a friend, the cause of friendship is continually being
                     multiplied by time: wherefore the friendship increases: and the same would apply to anger, were its cause continually
                     multiplied.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q48_A2-p10"> Nevertheless the very fact that anger soon spends itself proves the strength of its fervor: for as a great fire is soon spent
                     having burnt up all the fuel; so too anger, by reason of its vehemence, soon dies away.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q48_A2-p11">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> Every power that is divided in itself is weakened. Consequently if a man being already angry with one, becomes angry with
                     another, by this very fact his anger with the former is weakened. Especially is this so if his anger in the second case be
                     greater: because the wrong done which aroused his former anger, will, in comparison with the second wrong, which is reckoned
                     greater, seem to be of little or no account.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q48_A2-p12"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q48_A2-p13"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q48_A1.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q48_A3.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q48_A3" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q48_A2.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q48_A4.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q48_A3-p0.1">Whether anger above all hinders the use of reason?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q48_A3-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q48_A3-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that anger does not hinder the use of reason. Because that which presupposes an act of reason, does not seem
                     to hinder the use of reason. But "anger listens to reason," as stated in Ethic. vii, 6. Therefore anger does not hinder reason.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q48_A3-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, the more the reason is hindered, the less does a man show his thoughts. But the Philosopher says (Ethic. vii, 6)
                     that "an angry man is not cunning but is open." Therefore anger does not seem to hinder the use of reason, as desire does;
                     for desire is cunning, as he also states (Ethic. vii, 6.).
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q48_A3-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, the judgment of reason becomes more evident by juxtaposition of the contrary: because contraries stand out more
                     clearly when placed beside one another. But this also increases anger: for the Philosopher says (Rhet. ii, 2) that "men are
                     more angry if they receive unwonted treatment; for instance, honorable men, if they be dishonored": and so forth. Therefore
                     the same cause increases anger, and facilitates the judgment of reason. Therefore anger does
                     not hinder the judgment of reason.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q48_A3-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> Gregory says (Moral. v, 30) that anger "withdraws the light of understanding, while by agitating it troubles the mind."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q48_A3-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> Although the mind or reason makes no use of a bodily organ in its proper act, yet, since it needs certain sensitive powers
                     for the execution of its act, the acts of which powers are hindered when the body is disturbed, it follows of necessity that
                     any disturbance in the body hinders even the judgment of reason; as is clear in the case of drunkenness or sleep. Now it has
                     been stated 
                     <a id="FS_Q48_A3-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q48_A2.html">(A[2])</a> that anger, above all, causes a bodily
                     disturbance in the region of the heart, so much as to effect even the outward members. Consequently, of all the passions,
                     anger is the most manifest obstacle to the judgment of reason, according to
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q48_A3-p6.2" href="./asv.html#Ps.30.10" target="asv"> Ps. 30:10</a>: "My eye is troubled with wrath."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q48_A3-p7">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> The beginning of anger is in the reason, as regards the appetitive movement, which is the formal element of anger. But the
                     passion of anger forestalls the perfect judgment of reason, as though it listened but imperfectly to reason, on account of
                     the commotion of the heat urging to instant action, which commotion is the material element of anger. In this respect it hinders
                     the judgment of reason.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q48_A3-p8">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 2:</b> An angry man is said to be open, not because it is clear to him what he ought to do, but because he acts openly, without
                     thought of hiding himself. This is due partly to the reason being hindered, so as not to discern what should be hidden and
                     what done openly, nor to devise the means of hiding; and partly to the dilatation of the heart which pertains to magnanimity
                     which is an effect of anger: wherefore the Philosopher says of the magnanimous man
                     (Ethic. iv, 3) that "he is open in his hatreds and his friendships . . . and speaks and acts openly." Desire, on the other
                     hand, is said to lie low and to be cunning, because, in many cases, the pleasurable things that are desired, savor of shame
                     and voluptuousness, wherein man wishes not to be seen. But in those things that savor of manliness and excellence, such as
                     matters of vengeance, man seeks to be in the open.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q48_A3-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> As stated above (ad 1), the movement of anger begins in the reason, wherefore the juxtaposition of one contrary with another
                     facilitates the judgment of reason, on the same grounds as it increases anger. For when a man who is possessed of honor or
                     wealth, suffers a loss therein, the loss seems all the greater, both on account of the contrast, and because it was unforeseen.
                     Consequently it causes greater grief: just as a great good, through being
                     received unexpectedly, causes greater delight. And in proportion to the increase of the grief that precedes, anger is increased
                     also.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q48_A3-p10"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q48_A3-p11"></p>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q48_A2.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q48_A4.html"></a>
               </div>
               <div id="FS_Q48_A4" class="div4">
                  <a href="summa.FS_Q48_A3.html"></a>
                  <a href="summa.FS.iv.html"></a>
                  <h4 id="FS_Q48_A4-p0.1">Whether anger above all causes taciturnity?</h4>
                  <p id="FS_Q48_A4-p1"></p>
                  <p id="FS_Q48_A4-p2">
                     <b>Objection 1:</b> It would seem that anger does not cause taciturnity. Because taciturnity is opposed to speech. But increase in anger conduces
                     to speech; as is evident from the degrees of anger laid down by Our Lord (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q48_A4-p2.1" href="./asv.html#Matt.5.22" target="asv">Mat. 5:22</a>): where He says: "Whosoever is angry with his brother"; and " . . . whosoever shall say to his brother, 'Raca'"; and " .
                     . . whosoever shall say to his brother, 'Thou fool.'" Therefore anger does not cause taciturnity.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q48_A4-p3">
                     <b>Objection 2:</b> Further, through failing to obey reason, man sometimes breaks out into unbecoming words: hence it is written (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q48_A4-p3.1" href="./asv.html#Prov.25.28" target="asv">Prov. 25:28</a>): "As a city that lieth open and is not compassed with walls, so is a man that cannot refrain his own spirit in speaking."
                     But anger, above all, hinders the judgment of reason, as stated above 
                     <a id="FS_Q48_A4-p3.2" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q48_A3.html">(A[3])</a>. Consequently above all it makes one break out into unbecoming words. Therefore it does not
                     cause taciturnity.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q48_A4-p4">
                     <b>Objection 3:</b> Further, it is written (
                     <a class="scripRef" id="FS_Q48_A4-p4.1" href="./asv.html#Matt.12.34" target="asv">Mat. 12:34</a>): "Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh." But anger, above all, causes a disturbance in the heart, as stated
                     above 
                     <a id="FS_Q48_A4-p4.2" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q48_A2.html">(A[2])</a>. Therefore above all it conduces to speech. Therefore it does not cause taciturnity.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q48_A4-p5">
                     <b>On the contrary,</b> Gregory says (Moral. v, 30) that "when anger does not vent itself outwardly by the lips, inwardly it burns the more fiercely."
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q48_A4-p6">
                     <b>I answer that,</b> As stated above 
                     <a id="FS_Q48_A4-p6.1" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q48_A3.html">(A[3];</a> Q[46], A[4]), anger both follows an act of reason, and hinders the reason: and in both respects it may cause taciturnity.
                     On the part of the reason, when the judgment of reason prevails so far, that although it does not curb the appetite in its
                     inordinate desire for vengeance, yet it curbs the tongue from unbridled speech. Wherefore Gregory says (Moral. v, 30): "Sometimes
                     when the mind is disturbed, anger, as
                     if in judgment, commands silence." On the part of the impediment to reason because, as stated above 
                     <a id="FS_Q48_A4-p6.2" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q48_A2.html">(A[2])</a>, the disturbance of anger reaches to the outward members, and chiefly to those members which reflect more distinctly the
                     emotions of the heart, such as the eyes, face and tongue; wherefore, as observed above 
                     <a id="FS_Q48_A4-p6.3" shape="rect" href="summa.FS_Q48_A2.html">(A[2])</a>, "the tongue stammers, the countenance takes fire, the eyes grow fierce." Consequently anger may cause such a disturbance,
                     that
                     the tongue is altogether deprived of speech; and taciturnity is the result.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q48_A4-p7">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 1:</b> Anger sometimes goes so far as to hinder the reason from curbing the tongue: but sometimes it goes yet farther, so as to
                     paralyze the tongue and other outward members.
                  </p>
                  <p id="FS_Q48_A4-p8"> And this suffices for the Reply to the Second Objection.</p>
                  <p id="FS_Q48_A4-p9">
                     <b>Reply to Objection 3:</b> The disturbance of the heart may sometimes superabound to the extend that the movements of the outward members are hindered
                     by the inordinate movement of the heart. Thence ensue taciturnity and immobility of the outward members; and sometimes even
                     death. If, however, the disturbance be not so great, then "out of the abundance of the heart" thus disturbed, the mouth proceeds
                     to speak.
                  </p>
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