Judgment (n.) passed on others from the pulpit eventually snaps back in your face, when laughter bursts out without warning.
Judgment (n.) is what we must elude, not punishment: punishment without judgment is bearable and even has a name that guarantees our innocence — misfortune.
Judgment (n.) is already in the room at the vigil: the old people nodding round the coffin seem to have come to sit in judgment on him.
Judgment (n.) of the world, for Nietzsche, is always a slander on life: it measures what is against what should be — and what should be does not exist.
Judgment (n.) by history, unlike God's, must be pronounced at once: it judged Bukharin by condemning him and proclaims Stalin innocent because he is the most powerful man on earth.
Judgment (n.) stayed clear before tyrants who razed cities for glory; it is crippled by slave camps under the flag of freedom and massacres justified by philanthropy.
Judgment (n.) of men is worse than the Last Judgment: no extenuating circumstances, and even the good intention is accounted a crime.
Judgment (n.) is a vocation others reveal the moment you grasp there is something to judge in you: the circle you stood at the centre of breaks and lines up as a judges' bench.
Judgment (n.) is flimsy — read at eight rather than five, by men who change their underclothes, in the name of 'the French people' — yet its effects are as solid as the wall at your back.