"Let others complain that the age is wicked; my complaint is that it is paltry; for it lacks passion. Men’s thoughts are thin and flimsy like lace, they are themselves pitiable like the lacemakers. The thoughts of their hearts are too paltry to be sinful. For a worm it might be regarded as a sin to harbor such thoughts, but not for a being made in the image of God. Their lusts are dull and sluggish, their passions sleepy. They do their duty, these shopkeeping souls, but they clip the coin a trifle, like the Jews; they think that even if the Lord keeps ever so careful a set of books, they may still cheat Him a little. Out upon them! This is the reason my soul always turns back to the Old Testament and to Shakespeare. I feel that those who speak there are at least human beings; they hate, they love, they murder their enemies, and curse their descendants throughout all generations, they sin."
React to this quote
More by Søren Kierkegaard
See allResonant Thoughts
"There is a fundamental similarity between the persecution of individuals who engage in consenting homosexual activity in private, or who ingest, inject, or smoke various substances that alter their fe…"
"If you like poetry let it be first-rate; Milton, Shakespeare, Thomson, Goldsmith, Pope , Scott, Byron, Campell, Wordsworth, and Southey. Now don't be startled at the names of Shakespeare and Byron. Bo…"
Explore Further
Related Quotes
"Why be alone when we can be together babyYou can make my life worthwhileAnd I can make you start to smile"
— Mr. Big"I want people to know that I’m a real person, and that I’ve been through normal situations, like crushes an…"
— Ashley Tisdale"Love in its most genuine sense, can only flourish if it is FREE. We, as people, can only flourish if we are…"
— Steve Maraboli"Much has been written of love turning to hatred, of the heart growing cold with the death of love. It is a …"
— James Baldwin"We absolutely love women, we are passionate about what we do and we get great results. Women see that our r…"
— Trinny Woodall"and yet her name was like a summons to all my foolish blood."
— James Joyce