This book does not introduce itself. It doesn’t want credit. It doesn’t want your praise. It wants your ego dismantled — piece by piece, sentence by sentence. The Imitation of Christ is brutal, patient, and absolutely uninterested in your comfort. This copy, stripped of a date, only makes it more dangerous. It could’ve been handed to you in a monastery or left for you in a motel drawer — either way, the voice inside it knows you.

Written in the 15th century, and somehow sharper than anything written yesterday, it isn’t doctrine — it’s a manual for annihilating your pride in order to touch the divine. No mysticism. No visions. Just discipline, humility, obedience, silence.

And it’s beautiful. Terrifyingly beautiful.
The kind of beauty that leaves bruises.

The binding may be old. The type may be soft. But the words?
They still bite

-Great - Book is well kept and displays minimal signs of age or wear.

-All conditions are subjectively evaluated based upon age.