No philosopher, I fancy, has ever expressed this romantic riddle with adequate lucidity, and I certainly have not done so.

But Christianity has done more: it has marked the limits of it in the awful graves of the suicide and the hero, showing the distance between him who dies for the sake of living and him who dies for the sake of dying.

And it has held up ever since above the European lances the banner of the mystery of chivalry: the Christian courage, which is a disdain of death; not the Chinese courage, which is a disdain of life.
And now I began to find that this duplex passion was the Christian key to ethics everywhere.

Everywhere the creed made a moderation out of the still crash of two impetuous emotions.

Take, for instance, the matter of modesty, of the balance between mere pride and mere prostration.