The Self (n.) is simultaneously defendant and judge.
The Self (n.) is dear and always prominent: look closely at even our correct actions and everywhere you come upon it.
The Self (n.) is no concept at all, only a name for the object of inner sense so long as no predicate tells us more about it.
The Self (n.) in its pathological form, though unfit for any universal law, pushes its claims first, as if it were our entire self.
The Self (n.) as an appearance of inner sense exists no more outside my power of representation than bodies exist outside my thought.
The Self (n.) that thinks and self that intuits are different and yet one subject — no harder a puzzle than how I can be an object for myself at all.
The Self (n.) can serve only as the subject of the judgment when I think my own existence — an identical proposition that discloses absolutely nothing about how I exist.
The Self (n.) known empirically is forever variable: inner perception can offer no standing or abiding self in this stream of inner appearances.
The Self (n.) that I think in pure thought is represented neither as I am nor as I appear to myself — only as any object at all, with its kind of intuition abstracted away.
The Self (n.) would be as multicolored and diverse as my representations, were it not that I can grasp them together in one consciousness and so call them all mine.
The Self (n.) that determines is never the object; only the determinable self — my inner intuition — is, so the modes of self-consciousness in thinking are mere logical functions that present no self to be known.
The Self (n.) seems the one place where we hold something substantial in immediate intuition — but this expectation is disappointed: the I only refers inner appearances to their unknown subject.