People talk about rats deserting a sinking ship, but they don't usually ask where the rats go. Perhaps this is only because the answer is so obvious: of course, most of the rats climb aboard the sounder ships, the ships that ride high in the water despite being laden with rich cargoes of cheese and grain and other things rats love, the ships that bring prosperity to ports like eighteenth-century Königsberg and firms such as Green & Motherby. By making the insulting comparison - as I am in the course of doing – between us Kant scholars and a horde of noxious vermin, my more or less transparent aim is to mitigate, or at least to distract attention from, the collective immodesty of what I am saying about us. For my point is that, in the past half-century or so, Kant studies has become a very prosperous ship indeed. Its success has even been the chief thing that has buoyed all its sister ships in the fleet of modern philosophy, most of which are also doing very well.

You are standing in the redwood forest of California, craning your neck to see the top of the giant sequoias. You marvel at their grandeur, as the trees seem to pierce the sunny clouds, but you might find the sequoias even more marvellous if you knew they were over 200 feet high. And wouldn't you stand in still greater awe if you realized that these trees are more than 2,000 years old? Knowing the age of sequoias and other living things can be the basis of a distinctive aesthetic experience – the organically sublime.

In a bold series of pronouncements, Arthur Schopenhauer maintains that the Kantian thing-in-itself is Will. The division between the world as Will and representation, with its impressive array of implications, is Schopenhauer's most important and distinctive contribution to metaphysics. To understand what Schopenhauer means by ‘Will’ (der Wille) as opposed to the empirical ‘will’, and his reasons for identifying thing-in-itself with Will, we must look in detail at two related arguments by which Schopenhauer proposes to link these concepts. The arguments appear in the first and second editions of Schopenhauer's masterwork, The World as Will and Representation. The differences between the two versions appear to represent a change in his thinking about the most persuasive way to demonstrate the nature of thing-in-itself. The arguments are reconstructed for the sake of comparison, and critically evaluated in light of a variety of objections. While Schopenhauer's first, analogical, argument is inconclusive, his second argument offers a highly defensible inference identifying thing-in-itself as Will.

Kant's 1772 letter to Markus Herz is celebrated for its marking the ‘Critical turn’ in Kant's thought, a turn that would move Kant away from the speculative metaphysics of the 1750s towards the Critical philosophy of 1781. It is here, seemingly for the first time, that Kant asks the question concerning the relationship between concepts and objects, telling his former pupil that the answer to this question ‘constitutes the key to the whole secret of hitherto still obscure metaphysics.’ For anyone interested in the development of Kant's thought this makes for exciting news since it is the posing of this question that marks Kant's first step towards the Critique and it is the answer to this question that will come to identify the ‘objective portion’ of the Transcendental Deduction, a text that already begins with a rehearsal of points raised in Kant's letter. But while the letter to Herz is clearly itself a key to what Kant sees as the ‘whole secret of hitherto still obscure metaphysics’, the question concerning concepts and objects itself poses interpretive problems that need to be addressed. Above all, one needs to ask how Kant arrived at such a question.

In his later moral writings Kant claims that we have a duty to cultivate certain aspects of our sensuous nature. This claim is surprising for three reasons. First, given Kant's ‘incorporation thesis’ – which states that the only sensible states capable of determining our actions are those that we willingly introduce and integrate into our maxims – it would seem that the content of our inclinations is morally irrelevant. Second, the exclusivity between the passivity that is characteristic of sensibility and the spontaneous quality of our free will that operates throughout Kant's philosophy seems to preclude that any such cultivation is possible. Third, Kant's specific arguments concerning why we are obliged to cultivate our sensible nature are unclear. The goal of this paper is to address each of these three concerns and thus fully explain Kant's theory of the moral necessity of cultivation.

To his harshest critics, Kant's philosophy can seem an unending series of neglected alternatives. Time and again, Kant argues for his position by elimination, ruling out each possible alternative, until his own is the only one left standing. Of course, this strategy amounts to a demonstration of the Kantian position if and only if the field of possible alternatives really is – as Kant always assumes – exhaustive. But readers often suspect that Kant has stacked the deck, that his dogmatic adherence to a particular set of presuppositions, or perhaps simply his lack of philosophical imagination, has unjustifiably restricted the possibilities under consideration, thereby rendering the alleged argument by elimination nothing but an elaborate exercise in question begging.