Thus Spake Zarathustra — Friedrich Nietzsche

Thus Spake Zarathustra

Friedrich Nietzsche · Licença: Public domain · Fonte

• I want to have goblins about me, for I am courageous. The courage which scareth away ghosts, createth for itself goblins--it wanteth to laugh. ¶506
• I no longer feel in common with you; the very cloud which I see beneath me, the blackness and heaviness at which I laugh--that is your thunder-cloud. ¶507
• Ye look aloft when ye long for exaltation; and I look downward because I am exalted. ¶508
• Who among you can at the same time laugh and be exalted? ¶509
• He who climbeth on the highest mountains, laugheth at all tragic plays and tragic realities. ¶510
• Courageous, unconcerned, scornful, coercive--so wisdom wisheth us; she is a woman, and ever loveth only a warrior. ¶511
• Ye tell me, "Life is hard to bear." But for what purpose should ye have your pride in the morning and your resignation in the evening? ¶512
• Life is hard to bear: but do not affect to be so delicate! We are all of us fine sumpter asses and assesses. ¶513
• What have we in common with the rose-bud, which trembleth because a drop of dew hath formed upon it? ¶514
• It is true we love life; not because we are wont to live, but because we are wont to love. ¶515
• There is always some madness in love. But there is always, also, some method in madness. ¶516
• And to me also, who appreciate life, the butterflies, and soap-bubbles, and whatever is like them amongst us, seem most to enjoy happiness. ¶517
• To see these light, foolish, pretty, lively little sprites flit about--that moveth Zarathustra to tears and songs. ¶518
• I should only believe in a God that would know how to dance. ¶519
• And when I saw my devil, I found him serious, thorough, profound, solemn: he was the spirit of gravity--through him all things fall. ¶520
• Not by wrath, but by laughter, do we slay. Come, let us slay the spirit of gravity! ¶521
• I learned to walk; since then have I let myself run. I learned to fly; since then I do not need pushing in order to move from a spot. ¶522
• Now am I light, now do I fly; now do I see myself under myself. Now there danceth a God in me.-- ¶523
• "If I wished to shake this tree with my hands, I should not be able to do so. ¶527
• But the wind, which we see not, troubleth and bendeth it as it listeth. We are sorest bent and troubled by invisible hands." ¶528
• Thereupon the youth arose disconcerted, and said: "I hear Zarathustra, and just now was I thinking of him!" Zarathustra answered: ¶529
• "Why art thou frightened on that account?--But it is the same with man as with the tree. ¶530
• The more he seeketh to rise into the height and light, the more vigorously do his roots struggle earthward, downward, into the dark and deep--into the evil." ¶531
• "Yea, into the evil!" cried the youth. "How is it possible that thou hast discovered my soul?" ¶532
• Zarathustra smiled, and said: "Many a soul one will never discover, unless one first invent it." ¶533
• "Yea, into the evil!" cried the youth once more. ¶534
• "Thou saidst the truth, Zarathustra. I trust myself no longer since I sought to rise into the height, and nobody trusteth me any longer; how doth that happen? ¶535
• I change too quickly: my to-day refuteth my yesterday. I often overleap the steps when I clamber; for so doing, none of the steps pardons me. ¶536
• When aloft, I find myself always alone. No one speaketh unto me; the frost of solitude maketh me tremble. What do I seek on the height? ¶537
• My contempt and my longing increase together; the higher I clamber, the more do I despise him who clambereth. What doth he seek on the height? ¶538
• How ashamed I am of my clambering and stumbling! How I mock at my violent panting! How I hate him who flieth! How tired I am on the height!" ¶539
• Here the youth was silent. And Zarathustra contemplated the tree beside which they stood, and spake thus: ¶540
• "This tree standeth lonely here on the hills; it hath grown up high above man and beast. ¶541
• And if it wanted to speak, it would have none who could understand it: so high hath it grown. ¶542
• Now it waiteth and waiteth,--for what doth it wait? It dwelleth too close to the seat of the clouds; it waiteth perhaps for the first lightning?" ¶543
• And when they had walked a while together, Zarathustra began to speak thus: ¶545
• It rendeth my heart. Better than thy words express it, thine eyes tell me all thy danger. ¶546
• As yet thou art not free; thou still SEEKEST freedom. Too unslept hath thy seeking made thee, and too wakeful. ¶547
• On the open height wouldst thou be; for the stars thirsteth thy soul. But thy bad impulses also thirst for freedom. ¶548
• Thy wild dogs want liberty; they bark for joy in their cellar when thy spirit endeavoureth to open all prison doors. ¶549

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