Self-denial (n.) is a considerable wing-stretch, but not a proud flight above the world — it is the humble, difficult flight near the earth.
Self-denial (n.) says, in its human form: give up your selfish wishes and be honored as wise; in its Christian form: give them up and be hated, mocked, executed as a criminal — and choose it freely. Christianity does not let you go for half-price.
Self-denial (n.) is human when the world opens its arms to the one who denies himself, as parents open theirs to a child; it is Christian when the world for that very reason closes its arms, and he must turn twice — to God.
Self-denial (n.) circulates in counterfeit plenty, and the cleverest forgeries even bear the God-mark — taking God along into worldliness; the test is the missing double danger.
Self-denial (n.) rightly marked bears a double sign: it makes a man doubly unhappy — first by denying his desires, then by being ridiculed by the world for it.
Self-denial (n.) abolishes “mine” in love, and so everything becomes the lover's — “All things are mine, I who have no mine at all”; the exact opposite of the criminal, the most wronged of all.
Self-denial (n.) can be recommended freely only by one who has made himself out to be the most selfish man — as Socrates could praise beauty only because he was the ugliest.
Self-denial (n.) would be universal if everyone sincerely wanted to understand it, since understanding it with every excuse cut off is its first form.
Self-denial (n.) looks, to anyone who has not lived it, exactly like self-love, pride, eccentricity, madness.
Self-denial (n.) cannot be grasped, in the Christian sense, by a noisy assembly or in half an hour; it needs fear and trembling, silence, and time.