I have well-nigh forgotten that image I spake of, but now I turn again thereto. If thou wilt know how much pride is therein, thou mayest try it thus: Look to it wisely, and flatter not thyself; if loving, praising or worshipping, or human favours of worldly men or others, be pleasing to thy heart, and thou turnest them into vain gladness, and well paying of thyself, thinking secretly in thy heart, that men ought to praise thy life, and reward thy speeches more than other men’s; and also on the contrary, if it be so, that when men reprove thee, and set thee at nought, hold thee for a fool, or an hypocrite, or slander thee, or speak evil of thee falsely, and in any other way disease thee unreasonably, and for this thou feelest in thy heart a grievous heaviness against them, and a great rising in thy heart, with an unwillingness to suffer any shame or disgrace in the sight of the world; if, I say, it be thus with thee, it is a token that there is much pride in this dark image, seem thou never so holy in the sight of men. (John Climacus)

By these criteria I am certainly filled with pride, especially in what pleases my heart.

Yet, I am embarrassed by praise because I know that my life is often tawdry and corrupt.

I have seldom been publicly reproved or called the fool or slandered. But I have been dismissed and discounted. This hurts. But I have not blamed the other because it has often seem to me a fair accounting of my value.

So it would seem pride coexists with its opposite within me.