The Public (n.) is now “all wise,” with only a crank or fool here and there — as Socrates' accusers held that everyone knew how to teach the young but Socrates; so near is the world to perfection.
The Public (n.) was handed the seducer in the left hand and the edifying in the right, and grabbed with its right what he held in his left.
The Public (n.) is where kindly people grow hard-hearted, each thinking his part a trifle — a trifle that the contributions of the many make into a monster.
The Public (n.) can no more understand irony than one can be an individual en masse.
The Public (n.) excludes God as the middle term — a personal God cannot mediate an impersonal relationship — and so excludes truth.
The Public (n.) is what the direct author gathers, starting from a few readers; he started with the public — always at hand when something is going on — and stirred up the crowd to get hold of the individual.
The Public (n.) does not exist, religiously speaking; only individuals do, for religion is seriousness and seriousness is the individual.
The Public (n.) keeps the press as a dog to set on anyone superior, then disowns it: it does not own the dog, it only subscribes, and when the dog is put down even the subscribers say it was a good thing.