ABSTRACT
I Have observed, that among the greatest disturbers of that sweet oblivion of ourselves, sleep, is a lecture on metaphysics. The whole system of man is reversed; the most orderly notions are thrust out of their places; and when, with infinite fatigue of the intellect, the new ones are once fixed, like furniture made of unseasoned wood, they suddenly crack, burst and shiver into shining fragments. Or pursuing the simile in another form, the chapters of metaphysical writers are read, while nothing is retained; like entering a dark room in search of some / object, and from which we issue, without having found what we wanted, after a great deal of racketting among the tables and chairs.
