may be said that in him the exercise of the will is
continuous; nay, that the factor which really acts and persists among
his aptitudes is the will, which is built up on the internal
fundamental fact of a prolonged attention.

Let us analyze some of the co-efficients of will.

The whole external expression of the will is contained in _movement_:
whatever action man performs, whether he walks, works, speaks or
writes, opens his eyes to look, or closes them to shut out a scene, he
acts by "motion." An act of the will may also be directed to the
restriction of movement: to restrain the disorderly movements of
anger; not to give way to the impulse which urges us to snatch a
desirable object from the hand of another, are voluntary actions.
Therefore the will is not a simple impulse towards movement, but the
intelligent direction of movements.

There can be no manifestation of the will without completed action; he
who thinks of performing a good action, but leaves it undone; he who
desires to atone for an offense, but takes no step to do so; he who
proposes to go out, to pay a call, or to write a letter, but goes no
farther in the matter, does not accomplish an exercise of the will. To
think and to wish is not enough. It is action which counts. "The way
to Hell is paved with good intentions."

The life of volition is the life of action. Now all our actions
represent a resultant of the forces of impulse and inhibition, and by
constant repetition of actions this resultant may become almost
habitual and unconscious. Such is the case, for instance, with regard
to all those customary actions, the sum of which constitute "the
behavior of a well-bred person." Our impulse might be to pay a certain
visit, but we know that we might disturb our friend, that it is not
her day for receiving, and we refrain; we may be comfortably seated in
a corner of the drawing-room, but a venerable person enters, and we
rise to our feet; we are not much attracted by this lady, but
nevertheless we also bow or shake her hand; the sweetmeat to which our
neighbor helps herself is just the one we desired, but we are careful
to give no sign of this. All the movements of our body are not merely
those dictated by impulse or weariness; they are the correct
expression of what we consider decorous. Without impulses we could
take no part in social life; on the other hand, without inhibitions we
could not correct, direct, and utilize our impulses.

This recip