Comparison (n.) is the arrow pausing mid-flight to see how far it has come or how its speed compares with another arrow's — at that moment it falls to the ground.
Comparison (n.) begins as a passing side-glance and discovers a whole world of calculations; at that moment the lover is ready to get out of debt — that is, out of love.
Comparison (n.) degrades the infinite as association with commoners degrades a prince: being first among them is no gain, for the very possibility of comparison is the faux pas — to love better than all others is not to love.
Comparison (n.) makes a man giddy when it sets the finite against the infinite, as looking at the waves does on a ship running before the wind.
Comparison (n.) is the worst of all seducers, always at hand as soon as your side-glance beckons — yet let no one say “comparison seduced me,” for he discovered it.
Comparison (n.) is the sucker on the root that drains the tree, the neighbor's marsh that sinks your house, the hidden worm of consumption, the rash that strikes inward and eats the marrow.
Comparison (n.) makes one better in a bad way, by others' badness.
Comparison (n.) is diversion whichever way it runs: excusing yourself because others are worse, or ranking your sin against sins nobody can know.
Comparison (n.) is a road that leads to the city, as passers-by say, without telling you that to reach the city you must turn round, so you walk on and on away from yourself.
Comparison (n.) piles up over a man's head until he labours all his life underground like a miner who never sees daylight, never seeing how glorious it is to be human.
Comparison (n.) gives a false standard before God, whether with better or worse: as soon as anyone stands between you and God you seem to be able to measure your distance, and so you are not far off.