Virtue (n.) is the moral strength of a human being's will in fulfilling his duty.
Virtue (n.) is chosen for the gratification it promises, and that gratification is of the very same kind as those of the coarsest senses.
Virtue (n.) is being sure of one's maxims' endless progress toward holiness — the highest thing finite practical reason can achieve, and never complete.
Virtue (n.) can never be complete, because its self-assurance never becomes certainty — and as mere persuasion, it is very dangerous.
Virtue (n.) is the moral attitude in the struggle, not holiness in the supposed possession of a complete purity of will.
Virtue (n.) would cease to exist if morality ever passed over into holiness: once the law stopped being a command, there would be nothing left to struggle with.
Virtue (n.) is the worthiness to be happy: the supreme good, but not yet the whole good.
Virtue (n.) is nothing but being conscious that one's maxim leads to happiness; prudence is morality.
Virtue (n.) and happiness belong together in the highest good, yet their maxims are so foreign to each other that within one person they restrict and damage each other.
Virtue (n.) produces happiness not falsely, only conditionally falsely: false if the sensible world is our only existence, possible through an intelligible author of nature.
Virtue (n.) is the most a human being can reach, and it is the consciousness of a continual propensity to transgress or at least to impure motives — hence self-esteem combined with humility.
Virtue (n.) presented simply and purely has more power over the human mind than any enticement of pleasure or threat of pain — improbable as that seems at first glance.
Virtue (n.) is defended in examples by those who fear that if the purity of every human example were disputed, virtue itself would end up a chimera and all striving for it scorned as idle affectation.
Virtue (n.) is worth so much only because it costs so much, not because it pays: the upright man who refuses to join the slanderers of an innocent, though friends desert him and his own starving family begs him to yield, lifts the listener from approval to admiration to veneration.
Virtue (n.) takes on a form of beauty when judging it is only an exercise of our wits — admired but not yet sought: praised, and left out in the cold.