Knowledge (n.) of the ordinary, natural kind is as divine as prophecy — the multitude just prizes rarities and ignores the gifts everyone shares.
Knowledge (n.) of the natural kind needs no sign and carries its certitude inside, which is why prophecy ranks below it.
Knowledge (n.) teaches us ethics and true virtue once its excellence is tasted: we understand things first, and goodness follows.
Knowledge (n.) of good and evil cannot check a single emotion by being true — only by being felt, as one more emotion in the fight.
Knowledge (n.) increases sorrow, as Ecclesiastes said — not because ignorance is better, but because you must know your weakness before you can measure your strength.
Knowledge (n.) knows itself: whoever knows anything knows that he knows it, and knows that he knows that he knows, and so on to infinity.
Knowledge (n.) redirects a force without adding to it: the conatus is the same at every kind of knowing, only its orientation changes, as the soul steers the animal spirits.