Thus Spake Zarathustra — Friedrich Nietzsche

Thus Spake Zarathustra

Friedrich Nietzsche · Licence: Public domain · Source

• Thus did the Will, the emancipator, become a torturer; and on all that is capable of suffering it taketh revenge, because it cannot go backward. ¶1794
• This, yea, this alone is REVENGE itself: the Will's antipathy to time, and its "It was." ¶1795
• Verily, a great folly dwelleth in our Will; and it became a curse unto all humanity, that this folly acquired spirit! ¶1796
• THE SPIRIT OF REVENGE: my friends, that hath hitherto been man's best contemplation; and where there was suffering, it was claimed there was always penalty. ¶1797
• "Penalty," so calleth itself revenge. With a lying word it feigneth a good conscience. ¶1798
• And because in the willer himself there is suffering, because he cannot will backwards--thus was Willing itself, and all life, claimed--to be penalty! ¶1799
• And then did cloud after cloud roll over the spirit, until at last madness preached: "Everything perisheth, therefore everything deserveth to perish!" ¶1800
• "And this itself is justice, the law of time--that he must devour his children:" thus did madness preach. ¶1801
• "Morally are things ordered according to justice and penalty. Oh, where is there deliverance from the flux of things and from the 'existence' of penalty?" Thus did madness preach. ¶1802
• "Can there be deliverance when there is eternal justice? Alas, unrollable is the stone, 'It was': eternal must also be all penalties!" Thus did madness preach. ¶1803
• "No deed can be annihilated: how could it be undone by the penalty! This, this is what is eternal in the 'existence' of penalty, that existence also must be eternally recurring deed and guilt! ¶1804
• Unless the Will should at last deliver itself, and Willing become non-Willing--:" but ye know, my brethren, this fabulous song of madness! ¶1805
• Away from those fabulous songs did I lead you when I taught you: "The Will is a creator." ¶1806
• All "It was" is a fragment, a riddle, a fearful chance--until the creating Will saith thereto: "But thus would I have it."-- ¶1807
• Until the creating Will saith thereto: "But thus do I will it! Thus shall I will it!" ¶1808
• But did it ever speak thus? And when doth this take place? Hath the Will been unharnessed from its own folly? ¶1809
• Hath the Will become its own deliverer and joy-bringer? Hath it unlearned the spirit of revenge and all teeth-gnashing? ¶1810
• And who hath taught it reconciliation with time, and something higher than all reconciliation? ¶1811
• Something higher than all reconciliation must the Will will which is the Will to Power--: but how doth that take place? Who hath taught it also to will backwards? ¶1812
• --But at this point in his discourse it chanced that Zarathustra suddenly paused, and looked like a person in the greatest alarm. With terror in his eyes did he gaze on his disciples; his glances pierced as with arrows their thoughts and arrear-thoughts. But after a brief space he again laughed, and said soothedly: ¶1813
• "It is difficult to live amongst men, because silence is so difficult-- especially for a babbler."-- ¶1814
• Thus spake Zarathustra. The hunchback, however, had listened to the conversation and had covered his face during the time; but when he heard Zarathustra laugh, he looked up with curiosity, and said slowly: ¶1815
• "But why doth Zarathustra speak otherwise unto us than unto his disciples?" ¶1816
• Zarathustra answered: "What is there to be wondered at! With hunchbacks one may well speak in a hunchbacked way!" ¶1817
• "Very good," said the hunchback; "and with pupils one may well tell tales out of school. ¶1818
• But why doth Zarathustra speak otherwise unto his pupils--than unto himself?"-- ¶1819
• Not the height, it is the declivity that is terrible! ¶1821
• The declivity, where the gaze shooteth DOWNWARDS, and the hand graspeth UPWARDS. There doth the heart become giddy through its double will. ¶1822
• Ah, friends, do ye divine also my heart's double will? ¶1823
• This, this is MY declivity and my danger, that my gaze shooteth towards the summit, and my hand would fain clutch and lean--on the depth! ¶1824
• To man clingeth my will; with chains do I bind myself to man, because I am pulled upwards to the Superman: for thither doth mine other will tend. ¶1825
• And THEREFORE do I live blindly among men, as if I knew them not: that my hand may not entirely lose belief in firmness. ¶1826
• I know not you men: this gloom and consolation is often spread around me. ¶1827
• I sit at the gateway for every rogue, and ask: Who wisheth to deceive me? ¶1828
• This is my first manly prudence, that I allow myself to be deceived, so as not to be on my guard against deceivers. ¶1829
• Ah, if I were on my guard against man, how could man be an anchor to my ball! Too easily would I be pulled upwards and away! ¶1830
• This providence is over my fate, that I have to be without foresight. ¶1831
• And he who would not languish amongst men, must learn to drink out of all glasses; and he who would keep clean amongst men, must know how to wash himself even with dirty water. ¶1832
• And thus spake I often to myself for consolation: "Courage! Cheer up! old heart! An unhappiness hath failed to befall thee: enjoy that as thy--happiness!" ¶1833
• This, however, is mine other manly prudence: I am more forbearing to the VAIN than to the proud. ¶1834

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