Pure interior solitude is found in the virtue of hope. Hope takes us entirely out of this world while we remain bodily in the midst of it. Our minds retain their clear view of what is good in creatures. Our wills remain chaste and solitary in the midst of all created beauty, not wounded in an isolation that is prudish and ashamed, but lifted up to Heaven by a humility that hope has divested of all bitterness, all consolation, and all fear.

Thus we are both in time and out of it. We are poor, possessing all things. Having nothing of our own left to rely on, we have nothing to lose and nothing to fear. Everything is locked away for our sure possession, beyond our reach, in Heaven. We live where our souls desire to be, and our bodies no longer matter very much. We are buried in Christ, our life is hidden with Christ in God and we know the meaning of His freedom.

This is true solitude, about which there are no disputes and no questions. The soul that has thus found itself gravitates toward the desert, but does not object to remaining in the city, because it is everywhere alone.