One another occasion I met him in a restaurant. He sat in front of no small portion of food fit for a king and a very large goblet of sparkling wine. At that point he had begun his stern polemic against ‘official Christianity,’ and I then saw for myself that he did not apply to himself this ‘dying away from the world’ or this (at any rate bloodless) martyrdom, which he continually preached for us others and which he made the hallmark of the genuine Christian witness…He immediately called over to me, involved as I was with a fierce battle for the Church: ‘Hello B., you look good. Yes who who are persecuted are getting fat.’
As far as Soren Sophist is concerned, I have never believed that the truth was in him; with his brilliant dialectics, he has always remed to me a sleight-of-hand artist who plays hocus locus with the truth and with Christianity, letting it appear and disappear under his shells.
…no cause has ever been lost in the way the cause of Christianity was lost when Christ was crucified; and no one has ever, in the sense of the moment, accomplished as little by a life solely committed to sacrifice as did Jesus Christ. Yet, in the eternal sense, at that same moment he had accomplished everything…
I remember nothing else about his personality besides that enormously demonic look with which he seemed to read a person’s soul.
…let us never deceive young people with foolish talk about accomplishing; let us never make them busy in the service of the moment instead of patiently willing something eternal; let us never make them quick to pass judgement on what they perhaps do not understand rather than content to will something eternal themselves!
The individual no longer belongs to God, to himself, to his beloved, or to his art or to his science, he is conscious of belonging in all things to an abstraction in which he is subjugated by reflection.
Our age is one of understanding and reflection, without passion, momentarily bursting into enthusiasm, and shrewdly relapsing into repose.
Alas, in addition to his grievous innocent suffering, such an unhappy person often must bear the severe judgement of arrogance and busyness and obtuseness, which no doubt can chide him, no doubt can affront him, but cannot understand him.
Oh how merciful the eternal is to us human beings! The eternal does not recognize all the corruptive strife and comparison that condescends and insults, that sighs and envies. Its requirement is equal for everyone, the greatest who has lived and the lowliest.
The good is not aristocratic; it asks for neither more nor less than everything, whether this is a little bit or not makes no difference.