the evidence itself; rather, the heart must grasp it, and people differ in that ability. A proof is always whatever necessitates the conclusion: anything that entails a matter serves as an argument for it. Yet one must perceive the sign and recognize its entailment. Once that recognition is secured, the resulting knowledge becomes immediate; at times it is immediate even without a specific, articulated proof.

Knowledge of particulars—such as knowing that this man speaks the truth while that one lies—does not always require a comprehensive syllogism, for such syllogisms yield knowledge only through an intervening universal proposition. Particular cases, however, can often be known without that step, though they still demand acquaintance with the individual’s circumstances.

Accordingly, when someone says, “I am the Messenger of Allah,” he must be either among the best of people—most truthful, most upright, and most virtuous—or among the worst—most mendacious, most wicked, and most depraved. The distinction between these two possibilities can be drawn from many angles, too numerous to count; each of them can reveal the truthfulness of one claimant and the falsehood of another. This recognition may occur simply upon hearing each man’s report, seeing his face, listening to his speech, and observing the concomitant signs: the radiance and delight that accompany truth, or the gloom, darkness, and repulsiveness that attend falsehood.

From this it becomes clear that many people attain immediate, intuitive certainty that