Reflection (n.) is consciousness's own method for knowing consciousness — and in that very method it becomes an object of study itself.
Reflection (n.) is always possible and always late: every cogitatio can become the object of an "inner perception" — even "in" memory, fancy, or the re-lived acts of others.
Reflection (n.) always arrives late: the first glance at my joy finds it not beginning but already a going concern — lived before, though not held before the eye.
Reflection (n.) cannot look without altering: it turns what was lived but not an object into an object — and its job is not to relive the experience but to examine it.
Reflection (n.) always leaves a remainder: when I turn to examine my own acts, the act doing the examining slips out of view and goes on working anonymously.
Reflection (n.) does not find the experience as it was: every turn to analyse a phenomenon generates new phenomena, and it is an error to ascribe to the old what belongs to the new.