In considering confidentiality and the quality of knowledge of man available to me, as nurse, my consciousness is confronted with my former mentor, and internalized "Thou," Paul V. Lemkau, M.D., psychiatrist. He {55} emphasized repeatedly that the professional person, as he increasingly understands man, should take on increasing responsibility to man, one's self and one's others. Buber says, "As we become free ... our responsibility must become personal and solitary."[1] One can extend this and say that to help others struggle for freedom one must realize that others must responsibly decide and that although they do this through and in the authentic presence of a nurse, these others are alone in deciding. And nurses in deciding what and how to convey of their knowing must decide freely, responsibly, personally, and alone. The nurse in deciding what and how to convey, considering the professional necessities of both confidentiality and dispersion of knowledge, can be guided by a conception of the nature of man-in-his-world. Man in humanistic nursing practice theory is viewed as a conflictual, contradictory, inconsistent dilemma. One horn of the dilemma is ideal spirituality that wrestles against the other horn, protective materialistic animalism. This "all-at-once" struggling, stretched, mixed nature of man needs recognition. Recognition of man's nature, as such, supports greater self-acceptance. Self-acceptance and this view of man-in-his-world, like a magnifying glass, unmasks for a nurse her possible responses, motivations, and alternatives. Cognizant of these, she can responsibly select what knowledge to disperse to protect individuals and to continually shape and conceptually actualize the nursing profession. Utilizing this magnifying glass on self in humanistic nursing practice theory to let one's existing mixed, varied, struggling responses, motives, and alternatives into self-awareness is an axiom referred to as authenticity with self. Acceptance of the others' human nature or human condition of being is usually easier than acceptance of our own. Usually each man is his own severest judge. Lilyan Weymouth, R.N., clinical specialist, my past teacher and present friend, in sympathetic moments, speaking of suffering others, often says, "the poor devils." Once, feeling anxious and annoyed, I responded, "we are all poor devils." She retorted, "I am glad you recognize that." Stopped short, I found myself continuing to ponder the phrase, "poor devils." Man's dilemma is that he is neither saint nor devil. He is a "poor saint" and a "poor devil," and by his nature he is pushed and pulled in both directions, "all-at-once." Our human existence in the world calls for an enduring with our virtues and vices, our energy and our laziness, our altruism and our selfishness, in a word with our humanness.