Humility (n.) was taught by one dictum Jung hated: "I am the servant of a child."
Humility (n.) is why God no longer shows himself, said a rabbi: "Nor is there anyone nowadays who could stoop so low."
Humility (n.) befits creatures made of the basest clay, Dorn taught: God looks not at the person but at poverty and humility, and hates pride.
Humility (n.) speaks in "Deo concedente," God willing — no rhetorical flourish but the attitude of a man who does not imagine he knows better on every occasion, facing something alive.
Humility (n.) is the root that must go as deep as the branches go high — and the meaning of the tree is in neither, but in the life in between.
Humility (n.) and pride for the sake of love are what the Gods and daimons have yet to learn from men — to crawl in the dust to snatch a drop of the living sweetness.
Humility (n.) stands very close to pride, by psychic compensation; behind haughtiness hides an anxious sense of inferiority.
Humility (n.) no one can measure is needed to live one's own life: nothing matches the torment of one's own way, so not a few choose even to love people for fear of themselves.