Thus Spake Zarathustra — Friedrich Nietzsche

Thus Spake Zarathustra

Friedrich Nietzsche · License: Public domain · Source

• They also know how to play with false dice; and so eagerly did I find them playing, that they perspired thereby. ¶1618
• We are alien to each other, and their virtues are even more repugnant to my taste than their falsehoods and false dice. ¶1619
• And when I lived with them, then did I live above them. Therefore did they take a dislike to me. ¶1620
• They want to hear nothing of any one walking above their heads; and so they put wood and earth and rubbish betwixt me and their heads. ¶1621
• Thus did they deafen the sound of my tread: and least have I hitherto been heard by the most learned. ¶1622
• All mankind's faults and weaknesses did they put betwixt themselves and me:--they call it "false ceiling" in their houses. ¶1623
• But nevertheless I walk with my thoughts ABOVE their heads; and even should I walk on mine own errors, still would I be above them and their heads. ¶1624
• For men are NOT equal: so speaketh justice. And what I will, THEY may not will!-- ¶1625
• "Since I have known the body better"--said Zarathustra to one of his disciples--"the spirit hath only been to me symbolically spirit; and all the 'imperishable'--that is also but a simile." ¶1628
• "So have I heard thee say once before," answered the disciple, "and then thou addedst: 'But the poets lie too much.' Why didst thou say that the poets lie too much?" ¶1629
• "Why?" said Zarathustra. "Thou askest why? I do not belong to those who may be asked after their Why. ¶1630
• Is my experience but of yesterday? It is long ago that I experienced the reasons for mine opinions. ¶1631
• Should I not have to be a cask of memory, if I also wanted to have my reasons with me? ¶1632
• It is already too much for me even to retain mine opinions; and many a bird flieth away. ¶1633
• And sometimes, also, do I find a fugitive creature in my dovecote, which is alien to me, and trembleth when I lay my hand upon it. ¶1634
• But what did Zarathustra once say unto thee? That the poets lie too much?--But Zarathustra also is a poet. ¶1635
• Believest thou that he there spake the truth? Why dost thou believe it?" ¶1636
• The disciple answered: "I believe in Zarathustra." But Zarathustra shook his head and smiled.-- ¶1637
• Belief doth not sanctify me, said he, least of all the belief in myself. ¶1638
• But granting that some one did say in all seriousness that the poets lie too much: he was right--WE do lie too much. ¶1639
• We also know too little, and are bad learners: so we are obliged to lie. ¶1640
• And which of us poets hath not adulterated his wine? Many a poisonous hotchpotch hath evolved in our cellars: many an indescribable thing hath there been done. ¶1641
• And because we know little, therefore are we pleased from the heart with the poor in spirit, especially when they are young women! ¶1642
• And even of those things are we desirous, which old women tell one another in the evening. This do we call the eternally feminine in us. ¶1643
• And as if there were a special secret access to knowledge, which CHOKETH UP for those who learn anything, so do we believe in the people and in their "wisdom." ¶1644
• This, however, do all poets believe: that whoever pricketh up his ears when lying in the grass or on lonely slopes, learneth something of the things that are betwixt heaven and earth. ¶1645
• And if there come unto them tender emotions, then do the poets always think that nature herself is in love with them: ¶1646
• And that she stealeth to their ear to whisper secrets into it, and amorous flatteries: of this do they plume and pride themselves, before all mortals! ¶1647
• Ah, there are so many things betwixt heaven and earth of which only the poets have dreamed! ¶1648
• And especially ABOVE the heavens: for all Gods are poet-symbolisations, poet-sophistications! ¶1649
• Verily, ever are we drawn aloft--that is, to the realm of the clouds: on these do we set our gaudy puppets, and then call them Gods and Supermen:-- ¶1650
• Are not they light enough for those chairs!--all these Gods and Supermen?-- ¶1651
• Ah, how I am weary of all the inadequate that is insisted on as actual! Ah, how I am weary of the poets! ¶1652
• When Zarathustra so spake, his disciple resented it, but was silent. And Zarathustra also was silent; and his eye directed itself inwardly, as if it gazed into the far distance. At last he sighed and drew breath.-- ¶1653
• I am of to-day and heretofore, said he thereupon; but something is in me that is of the morrow, and the day following, and the hereafter. ¶1654
• I became weary of the poets, of the old and of the new: superficial are they all unto me, and shallow seas. ¶1655
• They did not think sufficiently into the depth; therefore their feeling did not reach to the bottom. ¶1656
• Some sensation of voluptuousness and some sensation of tedium: these have as yet been their best contemplation. ¶1657
• Ghost-breathing and ghost-whisking, seemeth to me all the jingle-jangling of their harps; what have they known hitherto of the fervour of tones!-- ¶1658
• They are also not pure enough for me: they all muddle their water that it may seem deep. ¶1659

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