Duty (n.) is an ought aimed against the particular will, against self-seeking desire and capricious interest.
Duty (n.) done for duty's sake is where I realize my objective nature in the truest sense — in doing it I am self-centred and free.
Duty (n.) loses nothing of feeling's content; the passage from feeling to law and duty is what first brings feeling to its truth.
Duty (n.) spoken of in a lofty strain elevates mankind and widens the heart — but if nothing definite comes of it, it at last grows tedious.
Duty (n.) would make action impossible if each one were a fixed substance — every concrete case is a clash of duties, and acting would always mean violating one.
Duty (n.) in its pure form makes me moral only when I am conscious of performing pure duty and nothing else — which means, in fact, when I do not act.
Duty (n.) is only a matter of words to the individual who exempts himself — a universality that appears on the surface and is turned outwards.
Duty (n.) for duty's sake is an unreality; it becomes real only in an individual's deed, and is thereby charged with particularity.
Duty (n.) for duty's sake, unless morality passes into ethical life, is empty formalism and rhetoric — it can deduce no specific duty, and by it all manner of wrong and immoral acts may be justified.
Duty (n.) looks like a limitation, but in it the individual finds liberation — freed from impulse, from moral permission and command, and from a subjectivity wrapped up in its own unreality.
Duty (n.) must pay the individual: in carrying it out he must somehow find his own interest, satisfaction and recompense, or the universal concern never becomes his own.
Duty (n.) as an empty form tolerates any content — the conscientious man who grows rich calls it his duty to provide for his family; what others call violence he calls maintaining his independence.