Sometime I think; and sometime I am.

Poe is the only impeccable writer. He was never mistaken.

It seems to me that the soul, when alone with itself and speaking to itself, uses only a small number of words, none of them extraordinary.

To be sincere means to be the same person when one is with oneself; that is to say, alone - but that is all it means.

Conscience reigns but it does not govern.

Sometime I think; and sometime I am.

His heart is a desert island.... The whole scope, the whole energy of his mind surround and protect him; his depths isolate him and guard him against the truth. He flatters himself that he is entirely alone there.... Patience, dear lady. Perhaps, one day, he will discover some footprint on the sand.... What holy and happy terror, what salutary fright, once he recognizes in that pure sign of grace that his island is mysteriously inhabited!