It was a purely Christian satisfaction to me that if ordinarily there was no one else there was one who in action tried a little to do the doctrine a… - Søren Kierkegaard

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It was a purely Christian satisfaction to me that if ordinarily there was no one else there was one who in action tried a little to do the doctrine about loving the neighbor – alas, one who precisely by his act also received a frightful into what an illusion Christendom is and indeed, particularly later, also into how the common people let themselves be seduced by wretched journalists, whose striving and fighting for equality can only lead, if it leads to anything, since it is in the service of the lie, to making the elite, in self-defense, proud of their aloofness from the common man, and the common man brazen in his rudeness.

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About Søren Kierkegaard

Søren Aabye Kierkegaard (5 May 1813 – 11 November 1855) was a Danish Christian philosopher and theologian, considered to be a founder of Existentialist thought and Absurdist traditions. He wrote critical texts on organized religion, Christendom, morality, ethics, psychology and philosophy of religion, displaying a fondness for metaphor, irony and parables.

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Also Known As

Pen Names: Victor Eremita A Judge William Johannes de silentio Constantine Constantius Young Man Vigilius Haufniensis Nicolaus Notabene Hilarius Bookbinder Johannes Climacus Inter et Inter H.H. Anti-Climacus B Johannes de Silentio Constantin Constantius P. CH. Kierkegaard
Native Name: Søren Aabye Kierkegaard
Alternative Names: Kierkegaard Climacus Sören Aaby Kierkegaard
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My grief is my castle, which like an eagle's nest is built high up on the mountain peaks among the clouds; nothing can storm it. From it I fly down into reality to seize my prey; but i do not remain down there, I bring it home with me, and this prey is a picture I weave into the tapestries of my palace. There I live as one dead. I immerse everything I have experienced in a baptism of forgetfulness unto an eternal remembrance. Everything finite and accidental is forgotten and erased. Then I sit like an old man, grey-haired and thoughtful, and explain the pictures in a voice as soft as a whisper; and at my side a child sits and listens, although he remembers everything before I tell it.

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