So I held my peace, and it was my wisdom; for what should I say to a
creature such as this raven, who saw through accident into entity?

"Look at me," he said, "and tell me who I am."

As he spoke, he turned his back, and instantly I knew him. He was
no longer a raven, but a man above the middle height with a stoop,
very thin, and wearing a long black tail-coat. Again he turned,
and I saw him a raven.

"I have seen you before, sir," I said, feeling foolish rather than
surprised.

"How can you say so from seeing me behind?" he rejoined. "Did you
ever see yourself behind? You have never seen yourself at all!
--Tell me now, then, who I am."

"I humbly beg your pardon," I answered: "I believe you were once
the librarian of our house, but more WHO I do not know."

"Why do you beg my pardon?"

"Because I took you for a raven," I said--seeing him before me as
plainly a raven as bird or man could look.

"You did me no wrong," he returned. "Calling me a raven, or
thinking me one, you allowed me existence, which is the sum of what
one can demand of his fellow-beings. Therefore, in return, I will
give you a lesson:--No one can say he is himself, until first he
knows that he IS, and then what HIMSELF is. In fact, nobody is