Virtue (n.) has its opposites in hell — or, in modern parlance, the unconscious — so for very virtue we declare there is no such thing as the unconscious.
Virtue (n.) claimed as personal merit is as illusory as vice taken as personal guilt: both are collective, the moral pair of opposites in the collective psyche.
Virtue (n.) or anything elevated into a principle always ends in one-sidedness and a compulsion to exclude every other possibility — for men of action as for memorizers.
Virtue (n.) is often a flight: busy with other people's sins, we wear an air of virtue and escape ourselves at last.
Virtue (n.) kept up too long has classic symptoms: irritability, bad moods and outbursts of affect are signs of chronic virtuousness.
Virtue (n.) is partly fate, like evil, and one often cannot tell which is worse: think of the woman married to a recognized saint.
Virtue (n.) once named is psychic gold minted into coins: psychic life broken down into coined and valued units — which is why Zarathustra refused to name the virtues.
Virtue (n.) is easy to practise on our neighbour; but what when I am the recipient of my own gifts — the least of my brothers whom I must take to my bosom, my own devil? Can we ever really endure ourselves?
Virtue (n.) implies victory over its opposite vice; without that counterpart it would be pale, ineffective and unreal, just as psychic energy needs the tension between the shadow and consciousness.