Our virtues? It is probable that we, too, have still our virtues, although naturally they are not those sincere and massive virtues on account of which we hold our grandfathers in esteem and also at a little distance from us. We Europeans of the day after tomorrow, we firstlings of the 20th century - with all our dangerous curiosity, our multifariousness and art of disguising, our mellow and seemingly sweetened cruelty in sense and spirit - we shall presumably, if we must have virtues, have those only which have come to agreement with our most secret and heartfelt inclinations, with our most ardent requirements: well, then, let us look for them in our labyrinths! - where, as we know, so many things lose themselves, so many things get quite lost! And is there anything finer than to search for one's own virtues? Is it not almost to believe in one's own virtues? But this "believing in one's own virtues" - is it not practically the same as what was formerly called one's "good conscience", that long, respectable pigtail of an idea, which our grandfathers used to hang behind their heads, and often enough also behind their understandings?
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Definitely the ending!
It didn't, I don't usually react a ton to books, but it was definitely moving.