Montaigne contends that only important or worthy people should write about themselves. Montaigne agrees and admits that his account of his own inner life is of little worth: “It is for a corner of the library, and to entertain a neighbor, a relation, a friend, who will enjoy knowing me” (177). His commitment to self-understanding is largely for his private amusement: “The most delightful pleasures are indeed absorbed within us; they flee from leaving a trace of themselves” (178).

In writing of himself, Montaigne has also altered himself: “By painting myself for others I have painted myself within, in colors brighter than they were at first” (177). It has changed his relationship to books: “I have lent a little more attentive ear to books ever since I have been on the lookout for whether I can pilfer something from them to adorn or prop up mine with” (179).

Montaigne asks, “But whom can we believe, speaking of himself, in such troubled times?” (179) Lying is commonplace, yet people take great offense when accused of it: “It seems that by resenting the accusation and getting angry at it, we rid ourselves of guilt to some extent” (179). Montaigne considers lying to be one of the worst vices: “If they deceive us, that disrupts all our relationships and dissolves all the ties that bind our society together” (180).