When I engage in some routine activity, it will usually be the case that I mean or intend the present move to be followed by others. What does meaning the later moves consist in? How do I know, when I come to perform them, that they were what I meant? Problems familiar from Wittgenstein's and Kripke's discussions of linguistic meaning arise here. Normally, I will not think of the later moves. But, even if I do, there are reasons to deny (...) that thinking of them can constitute what it is to mean to perform them. I argue that the problem can be solved, in the case of routine action, by the notion that our behavioural routines are guided by what I callmodest agent memory. It will help explain both how wecan have future moves in mind and how we can be in a position to avow the fact. (shrink)

There is a common view that as well as being conscious of the world in virtue of having thoughts about it, forming representations of its various states and processes, we are also conscious of it in virtue of feeling it. What I have in mind is not the fact that we have feelings about the world—indignation at this, pleasure at that—but that we sensorily feel its colours, sounds, textures and so on. And this feeling form of consciousness, it's often thought, (...) constitutes a peculiarly intimate and intense focus upon things. The feel of the first drops of rain on one's face and the sounds of the gull's cry will quickly be recognized for what they are; and the fact that events of this sort are occurring will thereafter hold one's attention just insofar as they are relevant to some current business. But what can also happen is that such experiences cut through any current concerns and cause a state in which, for a time, one does nothing except feel the soft coolness of the rain and the particular quality of the bird's cry. We can become absorbed, it seems, in the mere presence of these phenomena and this is an experience to which we attach great value. (shrink)

There is a common view that as well as being conscious of the world in virtue of having thoughts about it, forming representations of its various states and processes, we are also conscious of it in virtue of feeling it. What I have in mind is not the fact that we have feelings about the world—indignation at this, pleasure at that—but that we sensorily feel its colours, sounds, textures and so on. And this feeling form of consciousness, it's often thought, (...) constitutes a peculiarly intimate and intense focus upon things. The feel of the first drops of rain on one's face and the sounds of the gull's cry will quickly be recognized for what they are; and the fact that events of this sort are occurring will thereafter hold one's attention just insofar as they are relevant to some current business. But what can also happen is that such experiences cut through any current concerns and cause a state in which, for a time, one does nothing except feel the soft coolness of the rain and the particular quality of the bird's cry. We can become absorbed, it seems, in the mere presence of these phenomena and this is an experience to which we attach great value. (shrink)

Barrie Falk; X*—Having What We Want, Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society, Volume 91, Issue 1, 1 June 1991, Pages 171–186, https://doi.org/10.1093/aristoteli.

I am concerned to understand that relation to a situation which we call fearing it. Some say this cannot be done: it is a brute fact about us that we fear certain things and we understand another's fear when we see that he confronts a situation of this sort (a basic fear object) or one which he understandably associates with this sort. In Section I, I argue that being associated with a basic fear object will not usefully explain a current (...) fear. In Section II, I argue that the obvious candidates for being basic fears will not do the required work. The notion should be rejected. I then argue that to fear an object is to take it as exhibiting one's lack of control and I proceed to describe the nature and content of this notion. (shrink)

In a well?known passage, Wittgenstein suggests that claims about what I would have said if asked, offered as an elucidation of what I meant, are hypotheses. Some have argued that Wittgenstein commits himself here to the view that claims about what I meant are hypotheses. I argue that this is to misinterpret the relevant passages and is at odds with central themes in Wittgenstein's philosophy, particularly what he has to say about the first?person relation to meaning. This is not of (...) the external kind that the hypothesis model would suggest. Claims about what I would in fact have said are indeed hypotheses; but claims about what I would have said that are used to explicate what I meant have a quite different status. In a final section, I consider Wittgenstein's belief that the regularity of our meaning?governed behaviour need continue ?no further in the direction of the centre? and may emerge out of ?chaos?. I offer an account of these claims which gives no support to the hypothesis theory. (shrink)

B. Falk; XII*—Portraits and Persons, Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society, Volume 75, Issue 1, 1 June 1975, Pages 181–200, https://doi.org/10.1093/aristoteli.

Barrie Falk; X*—Having What We Want, Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society, Volume 91, Issue 1, 1 June 1991, Pages 171–186, https://doi.org/10.1093/aristoteli.