1844
Michael Pedersen Kierkegaard
FORMERLY A CLOTHING MERCHANT HERE IN THE CITY
MY FATHER
THESE DISCOURSES ARE DEDICATED
Even though this little book (which is called “discourses,” not sermons, because its author does not have authority to preach, “upbuilding discourses,” not discourses for upbuilding, because the speaker by no means claims to be a teacher) addresses itself to a reader, to that single individual whom I with joy and gratitude call my reader, the speaker nevertheless does not forget that to be able to speak is an ambiguous art, and even to be able to speak the truth is a very dubious perfection.95 In this consciousness, the book goes out into the world; inclosed in itself [indesluttet i sig selv], it pays no heed to the weather, does not inquire about the wind, does not look to the clouds, is not mistaken about anything, but seeks and looks for only that favorably disposed person who takes an interest in the seeker, gives an opportunity to what is said, brings the cold thoughts into flame again, transforms the discourse into a conversation, the honest confidentiality of which is not disturbed by any recollection of the one who continually desires only to be forgotten, and this is primarily and preferably the case precisely when the recipient accomplishes the great work of letting the perishability of the discourse arise in imperishability.96