He did not entirely believe himself, but he knew he had best pretend he did.

I did not know then what Brother William was seeking, and to tell the truth, I still do not know today, and I presume he himself did not know, moved as he was solely by the desire for truth, and by the suspicion - which I could see he always harbored - that the truth was not what was appearing to him at any given moment.

I really don't know what he said at the end of that sentence. I don't think he knows what he said either.

Because of the self-confidence with which he had spoken, no one could tell whether what he said was very clever or very stupid.

Even now, I cannot decide whether I was foolish dupe or noble and tragic lover. Or whether the two are one and the same.

Nobody believes — even the people who believe in him somehow believe in him without believing what he says.

My judgment now is that he was vacillating and undecided in his actions.

But that kind has not a true word in him. I wouldn’t be surprised if everything he said were a lie. Such as he lies as he breathes. Truth is something he’s never even learned to speak.

Who once has doubted never quite believes.

The truth exists, but we can never know if it is what we are saying.

The problem is that many of his affirmations cannot be proven.

How did I find out? I was deceiving him.

He never knows whether they want him for what he can do for them now — or will do for them later.

So he believes. The truth may be more...complex.