Thus Spake Zarathustra — Friedrich Nietzsche

Thus Spake Zarathustra

Friedrich Nietzsche · الترخيص: Public domain · المصدر

• Marriage they call it all; and they say their marriages are made in heaven. ¶895
• Well, I do not like it, that heaven of the superfluous! No, I do not like them, those animals tangled in the heavenly toils! ¶896
• Far from me also be the God who limpeth thither to bless what he hath not matched! ¶897
• Laugh not at such marriages! What child hath not had reason to weep over its parents? ¶898
• Worthy did this man seem, and ripe for the meaning of the earth: but when I saw his wife, the earth seemed to me a home for madcaps. ¶899
• Yea, I would that the earth shook with convulsions when a saint and a goose mate with one another. ¶900
• This one went forth in quest of truth as a hero, and at last got for himself a small decked-up lie: his marriage he calleth it. ¶901
• That one was reserved in intercourse and chose choicely. But one time he spoilt his company for all time: his marriage he calleth it. ¶902
• Another sought a handmaid with the virtues of an angel. But all at once he became the handmaid of a woman, and now would he need also to become an angel. ¶903
• Careful, have I found all buyers, and all of them have astute eyes. But even the astutest of them buyeth his wife in a sack. ¶904
• Many short follies--that is called love by you. And your marriage putteth an end to many short follies, with one long stupidity. ¶905
• Your love to woman, and woman's love to man--ah, would that it were sympathy for suffering and veiled deities! But generally two animals alight on one another. ¶906
• But even your best love is only an enraptured simile and a painful ardour. It is a torch to light you to loftier paths. ¶907
• Beyond yourselves shall ye love some day! Then LEARN first of all to love. And on that account ye had to drink the bitter cup of your love. ¶908
• Bitterness is in the cup even of the best love: thus doth it cause longing for the Superman; thus doth it cause thirst in thee, the creating one! ¶909
• Thirst in the creating one, arrow and longing for the Superman: tell me, my brother, is this thy will to marriage? ¶910
• Holy call I such a will, and such a marriage.-- ¶911
• Many die too late, and some die too early. Yet strange soundeth the precept: "Die at the right time! ¶914
• Die at the right time: so teacheth Zarathustra. ¶915
• To be sure, he who never liveth at the right time, how could he ever die at the right time? Would that he might never be born!--Thus do I advise the superfluous ones. ¶916
• But even the superfluous ones make much ado about their death, and even the hollowest nut wanteth to be cracked. ¶917
• Every one regardeth dying as a great matter: but as yet death is not a festival. Not yet have people learned to inaugurate the finest festivals. ¶918
• The consummating death I show unto you, which becometh a stimulus and promise to the living. ¶919
• His death, dieth the consummating one triumphantly, surrounded by hoping and promising ones. ¶920
• Thus should one learn to die; and there should be no festival at which such a dying one doth not consecrate the oaths of the living! ¶921
• Thus to die is best; the next best, however, is to die in battle, and sacrifice a great soul. ¶922
• But to the fighter equally hateful as to the victor, is your grinning death which stealeth nigh like a thief,--and yet cometh as master. ¶923
• My death, praise I unto you, the voluntary death, which cometh unto me because _I_ want it. ¶924
• And when shall I want it?--He that hath a goal and an heir, wanteth death at the right time for the goal and the heir. ¶925
• And out of reverence for the goal and the heir, he will hang up no more withered wreaths in the sanctuary of life. ¶926
• Verily, not the rope-makers will I resemble: they lengthen out their cord, and thereby go ever backward. ¶927
• Many a one, also, waxeth too old for his truths and triumphs; a toothless mouth hath no longer the right to every truth. ¶928
• And whoever wanteth to have fame, must take leave of honour betimes, and practise the difficult art of--going at the right time. ¶929
• One must discontinue being feasted upon when one tasteth best: that is known by those who want to be long loved. ¶930
• Sour apples are there, no doubt, whose lot is to wait until the last day of autumn: and at the same time they become ripe, yellow, and shrivelled. ¶931
• In some ageth the heart first, and in others the spirit. And some are hoary in youth, but the late young keep long young. ¶932
• To many men life is a failure; a poison-worm gnaweth at their heart. Then let them see to it that their dying is all the more a success. ¶933
• Many never become sweet; they rot even in the summer. It is cowardice that holdeth them fast to their branches. ¶934
• Far too many live, and far too long hang they on their branches. Would that a storm came and shook all this rottenness and worm-eatenness from the tree! ¶935
• Would that there came preachers of SPEEDY death! Those would be the appropriate storms and agitators of the trees of life! But I hear only slow death preached, and patience with all that is "earthly." ¶936

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