The Self (n.) is not something that lies deeply concealed within one, but rather, immeasurably high over one.
The Self (n.) is not something to be 'known' as in 'know thyself', rather it is what one becomes through willing, such that one must 'will a self in order to become a self'.
The Self (n.) is that aspect of ourselves of which we are conscious. Like our neighbor, it is something outside of us, something external, on the outside, an image.
The Self (n.) seeketh with the eyes of the senses, it hearkeneth also with the ears of the spirit.
The Self (n.) is a mighty lord, an unknown sage behind one's thoughts and feelings; it dwells in the body, it is the body.
The Self (n.) we were educated into may need guarding against — God guard me from myself, that is to say from the nature already educated into me.
The Self (n.) that is truly yours lies not concealed deep within you but immeasurably high above you: ask what you have truly loved, set those objects in a row, and they form a stepladder by which you climbed up to yourself.
The Self (n.) is in danger of being kidnapped — a kind of agreement exists to kidnap you out of your own cave; the dreadful resolve 'I will remain my own!' sends you down into existence with questions: why do I live, how have I become what I am?
The Self (n.) is willed by active natures, not known: they act not on 'know thyself' but on 'will a self and thou shalt become a self'; the contemplative brood over what they chose once on entering life.
The Self (n.) we have outgrown is a shed skin we are tempted to throw back over our shoulders when praised for it — playing the comedians of our own past, from vanity and from goodwill to our admirers.
The Self (n.) must, once found, be lost from time to time and found again by a thinker — being tied to one person all the time is a disadvantage.
The Self (n.) is the powerful commander behind your thoughts and feelings, an unknown sage — it lives in your body; it is your body.