{"text": "Nietzsche Beyond Good and Ewil Edited by Rolf-Peter Horstmann and Judith Norman more information WWW: cambridge org/9780521770781 Cambridge Texts in the History of Philosophy This page intentionally left blank CAMBRIDGE TEXTS IN THE HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE Beyond Good and Evil"}
{"text": "Series editors"}
{"text": "Professor of Philosophy at the University of Notre Dame DESMOND M. CLARKE Professor of Philosophy at University College Cork The main objective of Cambridge Texts in the History of Philosophy is to expand the range, variety, and quality of texts in the history of philosophy which are available in English. The series includes texts by familiar names (such as Descartes and Kant) and also by less well-known authors. Wherever possible, texts are published in complete and unabridged form, and translations are specially commissioned for the series. Each volume contains a critical introduction together with a guide to further reading and any necessary glossaries and textual apparatus. The volumes are designed for student use at undergraduate and postgraduate level and will be of interest not only to students of philosophy, but also to a wider audience of readers in the history of science, the history of theology and the history of ideas. For a list of titles published in the series, please see end of book."}
{"text": "EDITED BY ROLF-PETER HORSTMANN Humboldt-Universitat, Berlin JUDITH NORMAN Trinity University, Texas TRANSLATED BY JUDITH NORMAN Cambridge, New York, Melbourne, Madrid, Cape Town, Singapore, So Paulo Cambridge University Press The Edinburgh Building, Cambridge , United Kingdom Published in the United States by Cambridge University Press, New York www.cambridge.org Information on this title: www.cambridge.org/9780521770781 Cambridge University Press 2002 This book is in copyright. Subject to statutory exception and to the provision of relevant collective licensing agreements, no reproduction of any part may take place without the written permission of Cambridge University Press. First published in print format 2001 ISBN-13 978-0-511-06877-5 eBook (EBL) ISBN-10 0-511-06877-8 eBook (EBL) ISBN-13 978-0-521-77078-1 hardback ISBN-10 0-521-77078-5 hardback ISBN-13 978-0-521-77913-5 paperback ISBN-10 0-521-77913-8 paperback Cambridge University Press has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of s for external or third-party internet websites referred to in this book, and does not guarantee that any content on such websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate."}
{"text": "Chronology, page vii = xxix. Furtherreading, page vii = xxxii. Noteonthetext, page vii = xxxiv. Beyond Good and Evil: Prelude to a Philosophy of the Future, page vii = . Preface, page vii = . Part Ontheprejudicesofphilosophers, page vii = . Part Thefreespirit, page vii = . Part Thereligiouscharacter, page vii = . Part Epigramsandentr'actes, page vii = . Part Onthenaturalhistoryofmorals, page vii = . Part Wescholars, page vii = . Part Ourvirtues, page vii = . Part Peoplesandfatherlands, page vii = . Part Whatisnoble?, page vii = . Fromhighmountains:Aftersong, page vii = . Glossaryofnames, page vii = . Index, page vii = v"}
{"text": "Beyond Good and Evil ( BGE ) is often considered to be one of Friedrich Nietzsche's greatest books. Though it is by no means clear what criteria this assessment is based on, it is easy to understand how it comes about. It seems to be an expression of the feeling that in this book Nietzsche gives the most comprehensible and detached account of the major themes that concerned him throughout his life. Nietzsche was suspicious of almost everything addressed in this book - whether it be knowledge, truth, philosophy, or morality and religion. He regarded them as the source, or at least the effect, of a misguided tendency in the development of human nature: one that has led to disastrous cultural, social, and psychological consequences. At the same time he lets us share his more constructive views as well, mainly his views on how he wants us to perceive the world andtochangeourlivesinordertoliveuptothisnewperception.Hespeaks of perspectivism, the will to power, of human nobility ( Vornehmheit ) and of the conditions of a life liberated from the constraints of oppressive tradition. In the middle of the book, he even adds a number of short I thank DartmouthCollegeandespeciallySallySedgwickandMargaretRobinson,whosegenerous hospitality gave me the opportunity to write this text. Special thanks to Karl Ameriks and Gary Hatfield for transforming my 'English' into English and to Andreas Kemmerling for helpful suggestions. Very special thanks to Dina Emundts for all sorts of comments. The version printed here owes much to careful editing by Hilary Gaskin. See, for example, the Introductions to BGE by Walter Kaufmann (Vintage: New York, )and Michael Tanner (Penguin: Harmondsworth, ; translation R. Hollingdale), and also Kaufmann, Nietzsche: Philosopher, Psychologist, Antichrist (Meridian Books: New York, ), and Tanner, Nietzsche (Oxford University Press: Oxford/New York, ). References for all quotations from BGE are to section numbers. vii"}
{"text": "aphorisms, and he ends the book with a poem that hints at the artistic background to his concern with decadence and the means for overcoming it. Thus it would seem that the whole range of Nietzsche's interests, his prejudices and his preferences, his loathings and his hopes, and above all his deep insights into our situation in the modern world, are united in an exemplary way in BGE , and for this reason it is a great book. Although there is something to be said for this view, it is not the only view that is possible. There are quite a number of thinkers who would insist that it makes no sense at all to attribute greatness to any of Nietzsche's works. For these readers, all of Nietzsche's writings are flawed by serious shortcomings that justify fundamental complaints, ranging from accusations that they are utterly irrational, or devoid of informative content, to the conviction that they contain nothing but silly proclamations based on unwarranted generalizations - or a mixture of both. According to proponents of this view, the best way to think of Nietzsche's works is as the disturbing documents of the creative process of someone who was on the verge of madness. To call any of his works great would therefore amount to a categorical mistake. Interestingly enough, this bleak evaluation is not based on any disagreement with what the work's admirers tell us we will find in it, or even any disagreement with the claim that it gives us the quintessential Nietzsche."}
{"text": "It is a perplexing fact that it is by no means easy to decide which of these two conflicting attitudes towards BGE should prevail, and in the end it maybearatherpersonalmatter.Neverthelessitispossibletoidentifysome conditions that will influence how we are likely to think about the merits of this work. Three main factors should be taken into consideration. First, muchdependsonhowweinterpret the aims pursued by Nietzsche's work in general and BGE in particular. Second, our evaluation will depend on the amount of tolerance and sympathy that we are prepared to mobilize towards Nietzsche the person, and also towards certain tendencies in bourgeoiscultureinGermanyinthesecondhalfofthenineteenthcentury. Thethirdandmostimportantfactor,however,isthewaythatwefeelabout theveryframeworkinwhichallourdealingswithwhatwetaketobereality are embedded: if we are confident that our normal outlook on whatever concerns us has been proven to be ultimately right, or at least on the right track, then chances are high that we will end up thinking of Nietzsche and BGE as a nuisance. If we are not convinced of the soundness of our normal views, then we might have second thoughts about things, and in viii that case a book like BGE might be considered illuminating and even helpful."}
{"text": "Let us start with Nietzsche the person. In the history of art, science, philosophy, and even literature one very often finds that in order to appreciate or to evaluate a work it is not much of an advantage to be familiar with its author and his life: an intellectual or artistic product is better judged on its own merits than on the basis of uncertain knowledge about the idiosyncratic features and muddled purposes of its author. Moreover, in some cases authors intentionally withdraw from their products in an attempt to become invisible and to let the work speak for itself, and thus leave us very few personal clues in their works. Rousseau could serve as an example of the first kind of case and Kant of the second; Kant goes so far as to use the phrase de nobis ipsis silemus ('of our own person we will say nothing') as a motto for his main work. We therefore tend to believe that a distinction can be drawn between the private views of the author and the meaning of the work which the author produces. Yet there are some works with respect to which such a consideration does not so easily apply. These are works whose very meaning is tied intrinsically to the person of their author, as is the case with diaries, letters, personal notes, or autobiographies. Here our knowledge about the author, or perhaps an understanding of the situation the author is in, are necessary ingredients for an appreciation of the text. There are many reasons to presume that Nietzsche thought of many of his texts as being like diaries or personal notes that tell us something about himself and about his perspective on the matters they address, rather than as products that aim at objective, non-personal results. Hence, his biography may be of interest in any attempt to assess his work. Nietzsche's life is surely not a success story; on the contrary, it is a rather sad story of misery and failure. It is the story of a man who from the beginning of his adult life, until the sudden and catastrophic end of his productive period, was confronted with embarrassing and humiliating experiences. This is true of his private life as well as of his relations with the intellectual community of his time. He was plagued by ill health, a psychosomatic wreck, suffering from all sorts of diseases ranging from chronic nervous ailments and severe eye problems, which left him almost ix"}
{"text": "blind, to extremely exhausting states of prolonged migraine. These conditions made life tolerable for him only in a few places in northern Italy (in the winter) and the Swiss Engadine (in the summer), and it is in these places that he spent most of his time in the s. His social relations were always, to put it mildly, somewhat complicated. Those who apparently cared most about him, his mother and his sister, he found oppressive and distasteful because they represented a type of personality he deeply despised. Though he prided himself on being comfortable with women, he does not seem to have been very successful in establishing emotionally satisfying relationships with them, which is hardly surprising given his views on women and on femininity ( Weiblichkeit ) in general. Things did not go much better with his friends. The people whom he called 'friends' he quite often spoke of with great resentment: he charged all of them with a lack of sensitivity toward him, he complained that none of them ever bothered to study his works, and he accused them of failing to defend him against public neglect. In short, he suffered deeply from a sense of solitude and isolation, from not being appropriately acknowledged because of the supposed imperfections of the people around him. To make things even worse, Nietzsche was not given the opportunity to compensate for the shortcomings of his private life by enjoying institutional and public success in his roles as a university teacher and author. Although he made a very promising start - he was appointed professor of classics at Basle university at the early age of twenty-four - his academic career disintegrated rapidly, in part because of his poor health and in part because he became annoyed with his teaching duties. As for his fortunes as an author, not much can be said that is positive. His first book, the now highly acclaimed treatise The Birth of Tragedy , did at least attract the attention of classicists (though their reaction to it was for the most"}
{"text": "See the annihilating remark aimed at both of them in Ecce Homo which culminates in Nietzsche's pronouncement: 'I confess that the deepest objection to the Eternal Recurrence, my real idea from the abyss, is always my mother and my sister' ( KSA VI, , translation from Tanner, Nietzsche , p. ). KSA refers to S amtliche Werke: Kritische Studienausgabe , ed. G. Colli and M. Montinari, vols. (de Gruyter: Berlin, ); this edition is based on the critical edition of Nietzsche's works, Werke: Kritische Gesamtausgabe, ed. G. Colli and M. Montinari, vols. to date (de Gruyter: Berlin, -). Though Nietzsche addresses this topic in BGE as well ( et seq .), the general tendency of his outlook on women is documented most succinctly in the relevant passage of Ecce Homo ('Why I write such good books,' ). A good example of this assessment of his friends is again to be found in Ecce Homo ('The case of Wagner,' ). x part emphatically negative) and of members of the Wagnerian community (including Wagner himself). But soon he had to realize that there was only a marginal interest among the public in his way of dealing with issues, whether they were philosophical topics such as truth and the metaphysical foundations of knowledge, topics concerning the history and value of religion and morality, or topics such as the critical assessment of modern culture and ideas about how to overcome what he considered to be the fundamental problems of modernity. This lack of interest showed in the dismal number of copies sold of his books."}
{"text": "The most discouraging experience for Nietzsche, however, may not have been this failure to gain a wider recognition. If he could have believed that his few readers represented some sort of elite, perhaps a group of distinguished intellectuals, then their taking notice of his writings would have been of importance to him and this might have counterbalanced his lack of public success. Unfortunately he could not entertain even that belief. From the very few reactions he became aware of - mostly reviews of his books in more or less obscure journals - he had to conclude that he was read by only a few readers - and the wrong ones. In his view, his readership consisted of people either unable or unwilling (or both) to understand him adequately. He blamed his readers for not being in the least prepared to give credit to his intentions and for being attentive only to those points which conveniently confirmed them in their own negative preconceptions. What he was missing on a fundamental level was a readiness on the part of readers to explore things his way, a feeling of intellectual kinship between author and audience, or, to put it another way,hedeeplycravedrecognitionfromanaudiencethathethoughtfitting. This is touchingly expressed in two short remarks from Ecce Homo . The first relates explicitly only to his Zarathustra, though it is quite likely that Nietzsche thought it true of his other writings as well: 'In order to See the Introduction by Raymond Geuss to the edition of The Birth of Tragedy in this series (Cambridge University Press, ). Of the book Nietzsche valued most, Zarathustra , whose first three parts were published separately in and , only about sixty to seventy copies each were sold within the first three years after their appearance (see letter to Franz Overbeck, summer : KSB VII, pp. - ). The fourth part of the Zarathustra was published in in a private edition of only forty copies and was not accessible to a wider public before . BGE did not fare much better: copies were sold within a year (see letter to Peter Gast, June : KSB VIII, pp. - ). Nietzsche comments (in the same letter to Gast): 'Instructive! Namely, they simply don't want my literature.' It seems that most of his other books had the same fate - they too were utterly neglected during the period in his life when he would still have cared about their success. xi"}
{"text": "understand anything at all from my Zarathustra , you might need to be conditioned as I am - with one foot beyond life.' The second remark delineates what he takes to be his ideal reader, and there is no doubt that he meant what he says: 'When I call up the image of a perfect reader, what emerges is a monster of courage and curiosity, who is also supple, clever, cautious, a born adventurer and discoverer.' Whatemergesis a picture of a totally isolated, highly neurotic man who had to try hard to avoid thinking of himself as a complete failure. His way of dealing with this situation seems to have been simply not to accept the idea that all these annoying circumstances might have been brought about partly by particularities or deficiencies that could be traced back to his own person, so he managed to combine a perfectly clear and even realistic assessment of what was happening to him with an unshakeable conviction that all this had nothing to do with him and revealed nothing about him. It is this ability which, in my view, accounts for two dominant traits that appear in his published works. The first is that he never even came close to considering the possibility that - given the general intellectual climate of his time - his lack of success as an author might have something to do with his pursuing the 'wrong' topics in a 'wrong' way. It never crossed his mind that what he thought to be an interesting, novel, and valuable insight might indeed have been exactly what it seemed to be to almost all of his contemporaries - an overstated triviality, an extremely one-sided exaggeration or an embarrassing piece of bad reasoning. He simply stuck to the points he felt he had to make, deeply convinced of being on the right track, and fending off all signs of criticism or neglect with the maxim 'so much the worse for the critic.' Ecce Homo ('Why I am so wise,' end of )."}
{"text": "In Ecce Homo Nietzsche even presents an explanation as to why he believes this stance to be perfectly reasonable: 'Ultimately, nobody can get more out of things, including books, than he already knows. For what one lacks access to from experience one will have no ear. Now let us imagine an extreme case: that a book speaks of nothing but events that lie altogether beyond the possibility of any frequent or even rare experience - that it is the first language for a new series of experiences. In that case, simply nothing will be heard, but there will be the acoustic illusion that where nothing is heard, nothing is there ... Whoever thought he had understood something of me, had made up something out of me after his own image ... and whoever had understood nothing of me, denied that I need to be considered at all.' 'Why I write such good books,' , Ibid. ('Why I write such good books,' end of ). In the same text he mentions explicitly the reactions to BGE as an example of how severely it was misunderstood or, to use his terminology, how gravely this book was sinned against because its readers were not up to its challenge ('Why I write such good books,' end of ). xii This attitude becomes increasingly visible in his writings after Zarathustra and culminates in his late texts of , especially in Ecce Homo . Here we find brilliant and witty remarks which rightly became notorious (though Nietzsche himself might not have found them very amusing, because they can also be read as documents of despair). I quote two of them: 'We all know, several of us even know from experience, what it is to have long ears. Well then, I will dare to claim that I have the smallest ears. This is of no little interest to women - it seems they think I understand them better? ... I am the anti-ass par excellence and this makes me a world-historical monster - I am, in Greek, but not only in Greek, the Antichrist .' The other is: 'I know my fate. One day, my name will be associated with the memory of something tremendous - a crisis the like of which the world has never seen, the most profound collision of conscience, of a decision brought about against everything that has ever been believed, demanded, or held holy so far. I am not a man. I am dynamite.'"}
{"text": "The second trait which we find in Nietzsche's writings is closely connected to his inability to assess himself in the light of others' reactions. It consists in his total unconcern about the tenability of his views when judged according to standards that he thinks are alien to his approach. Starting from the conviction that there is no common ground between him and his reader, that what he has to say is most likely incomprehensible to almost everybody else, he does not feel obliged to enter the social game of competitive discourse. He refuses to try to convince people by somehow connecting to their way of thinking; he does not refute possible arguments against the points he wants to make by giving reasons in their favor. Instead, he makes abundantly clear his contempt for 'normal' thinking and his impatience with the evaluations of others. It is this stance which gives so many readers the impression of an overwhelming polemical element in Nietzsche's literary presentation of his views. He reinforces it by insisting over and over again that what he has to tell us are above all his truths. The claim to exclusivity is meant to imply both that his main concern is not whether we find these truths convincing, and translation from W. Kaufmann, On the Genealogy of Morals and Ecce Homo (Vintage: New York, ), p. . Ecce Homo , 'Why I write such good books,' end of , translation Kaufmann, p. . Ibid ., 'Why I am a destiny,' beginning of , translation Kaufmann, p. . xiii Introduction that he does not pretend to have found the Truth, for he thinks this is a metaphysical illusion anyway."}
{"text": "Thus we find embedded in Nietzsche's basic view of himself the recommendation not that we read his texts as aiming at 'objectively valid' judgments, at judgments that are (metaphysically) true irrespective of the cultural and psychological context in which they are made (whatever that may be), but that we think of them as narratives that he invites us to listen to, without really obliging us to believe them if we are not the right kind of person. This does not mean that the stories he has to tell us about, say, truth, morality, the will to power, or culture are, in his view, on a par with fictions, pleasant or otherwise. On the contrary, he believed his stories to be the ultimate stories, the stories that are destined to become the standard versions of our assessment of these phenomena. This is not because his narratives are objectively, or in a context-free sense, the most fitting; rather, they will succeed because eventually people will change to a condition where they appreciate the fact that these narratives are best suited to capture their sense of the right perspective on phenomena if they are considered against the background of what for them is the real meaning of life."}
{"text": "Before looking more closely at some aspects of BGE itself, let me summarize what I take to be the lessons for approaching Nietzsche's writings that can be learned from his personal situation and his way of dealing with it. They take the form of three warnings: ( ) do not expect these writings to express impartial views on whatever subject they address - they express, in an emphatic sense, Nietzsche's own views; ( ) do not be annoyed by his obsession with apodictic statements whose immense generality very often contradicts both normal expectations of modesty and the most obvious requirements of common sense - these stylistic eccentricities reflect his resolute disdain for what most people cherish, especially people who he suspects are not willing to listen to him; ( ) never forget that the author does not want to get mixed up with 'us,' his normal insensitive 'academic' readers. He does not want to be 'one of us' - instead he insists on what he calls 'distance,' in order to uphold his view of himself and to remind us of his uniqueness. A last quotation from Ecce Homo may highlight these points: ' Listen to me [the emphasis is on the 'me']. For I am thus and thus. Do not, above all, confound me. ' Ibid ., Preface, . xiv"}
{"text": "BGE is the first book Nietzsche published after Thus Spoke Zarathustra . Henevergaveuponthenotionthat all he really wanted to say is contained in Zarathustra , and this led him to claim that the works he wrote after Zarathustra are essentially nothing but elaborations and explications of ideas already present in his opus magnum . This claim has been disputed by quite a number of his commentators, firstly because many of the most central ideas in Zarathustra cease to play an important role in his later writings, and secondly because the literary form of the later writings connects them much more closely to his books prior to Zarathustra than to Zarathustra itself. However that may be, Nietzsche himself was of the opinion that Zarathustra set the stage for everything he had to do subsequently. He writes: 'The task for the years that followed [i.e. the years after Zarathustra ] was mapped out as clearly as possible. Once the yes-saying part of my task had been solved [by means of Zarathustra ], it was time for the no-saying, no-doing part.' This seems to imply that he regarded his postZarathustra writings as consisting of predominantly critical essays. BGE is best known to a wider public for its proverbs. Indeed, some of Nietzsche's best-known maxims are assembled in this text, ranging from perspicuous insights to highly controversial statements. Starting with the Preface, where we find his much used and misused saying, 'Christianity is Platonism for the 'people,'' almost every one of the nine parts of the book contains lines that have entered the repertoire of educated or polemical discourse: 'life as such is will to power' ( ); 'humans are the still undetermined [ nicht festgestellte ] animals '( ); 'When a woman has scholarly inclinations, there is usually something wrong with her sexuality' ( ); ' Morality in Europe these days is the morality of herd animals '( ); and (slightly paraphrased here): 'saintliness - the highest spiritualization of the instinct of cleanliness' ( )."}
{"text": "These proverbs are in a way the least of what BGE has to offer. Its primary fascination lies on a deeper level: this book introduces us into a world of remarkable conjectures, suspicions, and implications. Though one might say this is true of most of Nietzsche's other published works as well, with the exception of Zarathustra , there is nevertheless a difference See, e.g., M. Tanner, Introduction to BGE and Nietzsche ,p. . Ecce Homo ,' Beyond Good and Evil ', , translation Kaufmann, p. . xv"}
{"text": "in emphasis between BGE and the other writings. Whereas the other texts pursue their subjects from many different angles, BGE (like The Genealogy of Morals , which Nietzsche announced on the back of its title page as 'a sequel to my last book, Beyond Good and Evil , which it is meant to supplement and clarify') is highly focused on the psychological aspects of its topics. In BGE Nietzsche confronts us primarily (though not exclusively) with a dimension of his thought that he was particularly proud of - his psychological stance. This integration of what he calls a psychological point of view into his general practice of casting doubts on received convictions by tracing their origins, of throwing into question our most fundamental beliefs by pointing out their shakiness, and of scrutinizing available alternatives in the light of a new vision of the value of life - this I take to be the most distinctive feature of BGE . Nietzsche himself gives the following account of what he is doing in BGE : 'This book ( ) is in every essential a critique of modernity ; modern sciences, modern arts, even modern politics are not excluded. Besides this, it is an indication of an opposing type, which is as un-modern as possible, a noble, yes-saying type.' Thoughthis characterization is accurate and confirms the view that Nietzsche considers his task to be mainly a critical one, it is by no means complete. Interestingly enough, it does not mention two topics which some readers take to be the subject of the most disturbing reflections in the book: morality and religion. This is surprising because these are the topics which seem to emerge most strongly in any consideration of its main message."}
{"text": "In order to appreciate the distinctive approach which Nietzsche favors in BGE in his dealings with what he calls 'modernity,' it might be worthwhiletosayafewwordsabouthismoregeneraloutlook.Thestartingpoint for almost everything Nietzsche is interested in throughout his entire intellectual career can be nicely summarized in the form of the question 'how are we to live?' or, more poignantly, 'how are we to endure life?' He considered this question to be of the utmost importance, because of three interconnected convictions that he treated virtually as facts. His first conviction was that life is best conceived of as a chaotic dynamic process without any stability or direction. The second is articulated in the claim that we have no reason whatsoever to believe in any such thing as the 'sense' or the 'value' of life, insofar as these terms imply the idea Ibid . xvi of an 'objective' or 'natural' purpose of life. The third is that human life is value-oriented in its very essence - that is, without adherence to some set of values or other, human life would be virtually impossible. Whereas the first conviction is supposed to state an ontological fact, the second is meant to be an application of the ontological point to the normative aspects of human life in particular. The third conviction, though somewhat at odds with the other two, is taken by Nietzsche to reveal a psychological necessity. (How Nietzsche came to hold these convictions, and whether they can be supported, there is not space to examine here, although a closer look would no doubt lead back to his use of some of Schopenhauer's ideas and to his picture of what constituted the cultural life of pre-Socratic ancient Greece.)"}
{"text": "Against the background of these convictions, Nietzsche became interested in the question of the origin of values, a question that eventually led him to a whole array of unorthodox and original answers. All his answers ultimately follow from a pattern of reasoning which in its most basic structure is quite simple and straightforward: if there are no values 'out there,' in the sense in which we believe stars and other physical objects to be 'out there' and if, at the same time, we cannot do without values, then there must be some value-creating capacity within ourselves which is responsible for the values we cherish and which organizes our lives. Though presumably we are all endowed with this capacity, there are very few of us who manage to create values powerful enough to force people into acceptance and to constitute cultural and social profiles. To create such constitutive values seems to be, according to Nietzsche, the prerogative of real philosophers (not philosophy professors), of unique artists (if there are any), of even rarer founders of religions, and, above all, of institutions that develop out of the teaching of creative individuals, i.e., of science, philosophy, and theology. Thus, anyone interested in the function and the origin of values should scrutinize the processes which enabled these persons and institutions to create values. At this point Nietzsche's more detailed investigations tend to start spreading out in a remarkable number of different directions. It is here, too, that in one sense we should take BGE to have its point of departure. That the detailed analysis of all the phenomena connected with the For, after all, there seems to be no reason to think that Nietzsche would not allow in principle that each of us could be transformed into a 'free spirit,' i.e., a person who has the capacity and strength to create and stick to the 'right' values. xvii"}
{"text": "concept of value is a very tricky task methodologically is documented not only in BGE but also in almost all of Nietzsche's other writings. Acknowledging the fact that the different features of the value-creating processes are much too complex to be accessible by means of a single explanatory scheme, Nietzsche tentatively pursues several different approaches. He merges psychological hypotheses with causal explanations, and combines them with historical observations and linguistic considerations into a multi-perspectival technique that he fondly refers to as his 'genealogical method.' In BGE , where he is occupied mainly with the psychological dimension of the process of value formation, he applies this method primarily in an attempt to come to an understanding of those aspects of the value problem that pertain to its normative elements, that is, to the question of good and bad. At the risk of oversimplification one can say the bulk of this work addresses three topics, each one of which can be expressed best in terms of a question. The first is this: why is it impossible for us to live without values, why do we need values at all, or, more in line with Nietzsche's terminology, what is the value of values? The second is this: how does it happen that the values we and the overwhelming majority of the members of our culture subscribe to have either been bad from the beginning or have degenerated into bad values? The third topic is this: what is the right perspective on values; what should we expect values to be? Though these three questions are in a certain sense perennial, Nietzsche relates them directly to what he saw as the manifest historical situation of his age and the prevailing conditions of the cultural tradition he lived in, so much of what he has to say is deeply rooted in his response to late nineteenth-century central European conceptions. This is something we should never forget when we confront his texts. Nietzsche speaks to us from the past, and this fact alone might account for some features of his writing that we would now consider idiosyncratic - for example, his way of talking about women and about national characteristics. IV At this point we face a problem that I take to be crucial for any adequate assessment of Nietzsche's project. It concerns the manner in which we are to comprehend his approach to the topics under examination. Now that we have identified a number of central questions that he discusses in xviii"}
{"text": "BGE, it is tempting to proceed in the way normally used in dealing with philosophical texts: stating the questions addressed, and then trying to line up the arguments that the advocate of a position puts forward in favor of the answers he comes up with. However, in the case of Nietzsche and BGE it is by no means evident that such a procedure would capture what Nietzsche is doing and what BGE is all about. There are few arguments to be found in BGE, and those which can be extracted are seldom of the most convincing kind. Following the normal procedure would also encourage the illusion that Nietzsche designed BGE to be understood simply in terms of arguments, whether good or bad, and I cannot find anything in BGE which would encourage such an illusion. There is considerable evidence that we should try a different approach, andthecluelies in Nietzsche's numerous allusions to the practices of what he calls the 'new philosophers.' To be the type of philosopher Nietzsche valuesis to follow hunches, to think at a 'presto' pace ( ), to embark on experiments both intellectual and existential ( , ), to transform andto create values ( , ), to put forward hypotheses that are risky: in short, to be interested in what he calls 'dangerous perhapses' ( ). One would not expect a person with this conception of philosophy to hold the idea that what counts most in the endeavor to reach highly unorthodox and sometimes even shocking insights is to be in possession of a 'good argument,'andthatonecouldorshouldpresentone'sviewsincompliance with this idea. Rather, one would expect such a person to pursue a very different path in expressing his views, which would involve starting with a bold claim or striking observation and then using it in a variety of different ways. It might form the basis for an analysis of something in terms of that claim or observation, or it might point to a symptom, presupposition, or consequence of a very general or a very particular state of affairs. It even might be related tentatively to topics which at first sight have nothing"}
{"text": "There are passages that make it very hard to believe in this illusion. See, e.g., remarks in that the activity of reason-giving is a post hoc affair intended to justify 'some fervent wish that they have sifted through and made properly abstract,' or (in the same section) his making fun of Spinoza's mos geometricus as a masquerade. In my eyes, the most striking passage for discouraging this illusion is to be found in , where Nietzsche talks about what he calls philosophical states or moods. Here he compares the 'right' way of doing philosophy with the 'normal' attitude and writes concerning the latter: 'You ['normal' philosophers] imagine every necessity is a need, a painful having to follow and being compelled.' This 'having to follow' and 'being compelled' I read as a reference to the procedure of establishing results via sound arguments. Nietzsche uses the German word Versuch (attempt, experiment) in a broad way which makes that term cover the connotations of Versuchung (temptation) and Versucher (tempter) as well. Cf. . xix to do with what the original claim or the first observation was about. In short, one could envision a philosopher under the spell of Nietzschean 'new philosophy' as someone whose methodology is deeply entangled in and in thrall to what could be called 'what if ' scenarios. If this is how a 'new philosopher' approaches problems, it seems beside the point to treat Nietzsche's proclaimed insights as based on arguments. Theconcept of a 'result' or a 'solution' also becomes obsolete, since this type of philosophy is obviously not oriented towards results and solutions understood in the sense of statements which can be defended against thorough critical resistance. Its aim consists instead in the uncovering of surprising possibilities and the playful presentation of innovative perspectives that do not aspire to the status of rock-hard 'truths' but are meant to be offerings or propositions for a like-minded spirit."}
{"text": "Nietzscheobviouslyintended BGE toexemplifyasclearlyaspossibleall thecharacteristics he attributes to the style, the method, and the intentions of the 'new philosophers' - and yet it is remarkable how often this fact is not sufficiently acknowledged by his interpreters. This oversight is remarkable not only because it seems to be in part responsible for awkward attempts to integrate Nietzsche's intellectual products into traditional academicphilosophy, butaboveallbecauseittendstomisswhatmightbe called, for want of a better term, the 'socio-hermeneutical' dimension of what has become known as his doctrine of 'perspectivism.' This doctrine It should go without saying that this imagined scenario does not exclude 'good arguments.' Rather, the scenario is meant to show that if one deals with topics in the way outlined above, the guiding intention is not to give or to find 'good arguments.' In Nietzsche's terminology, this amounts to the claim that a 'good argument' is not an overriding methodological 'value.' Invoking his polemical inventory, one could say, in his spirit: to be obsessed by 'the will to a good argument' indicates bad taste. Again, this characterization is not meant to suggest that what these 'new philosophers' are proclaiming is something they are not serious about or do not want us to take seriously. It is only meant to emphasize that what they put forward is connected very intimately with their personal point of view, and hence it is nothing that they can force on someone if there is no shared basis of experience, of resentment ( ressentiment ), or suffering. See BGE , where Nietzsche expresses this point in an especially belligerent fashion."}
{"text": "These attempts do not necessarily result in uninformative or misleading accounts of aspects of Nietzsche's thought. On the contrary, many of them shed considerable light on the historical background of his ideas and on the impact they could have on various discussions that happen to take place within the framework of academic philosophy. They are, however, operating under the unavoidable (and, perhaps, reasonable) restrictions of that framework. This puts them in the position of having to abstract from the personal or 'perspectival' features essential to Nietzsche's conceptions. That there is a price to be paid for this 'academization' is obvious. It is revealed in the difference between the excitement and fun that one can have in reading Nietzsche and the boredom that one sometimes experiences when reading the literature on him. xx in its most trivial reading amounts to the claim that our view of the world and, consequently, the statements we take to be true, depend on our situation, on our 'perspective' on the world. Perspectivism thus understood gives rise to the epistemological thesis that our knowledge claims can never be true in an absolute or an objective sense, partly because of the necessary spatial and temporal differences between the viewpoints that each knower is bound to occupy when relating to an object, and also because of the fact that we can never be certain that what appears to us to be the case really is the case. Though it is true that in some of his more conventional moods Nietzsche seems to have thought about perspectivism along these lines, this reading gives no hint whatsoever of why he should have been attracted to such a doctrine in his more inspired moments. In this epistemological version the doctrine is neither original nor interesting, but merely a version of skeptical or idealist claims that used to be connected in popular writings with names like Berkeley and Kant."}
{"text": "However, perspectivism takes on a much more promising dimension if it is put into the broader context of the problem of justifying or at least of making plausible an insistence on integrating a personal or subjective element into the expression of one's views as a condition of their making sense at all. By looking at this doctrine in this context, we can appreciate it as stating conditions for understanding an expression that purports to express something true, be it a text, a statement, or a confession. These conditions can be summarized in terms of two essential convictions. ( ) In order to understand a claim for truth embodied in an expression, one has to have an understanding of the situation from which that claim originates, and this presupposes being acquainted with and involved in the personal attitudes, subjective experiences, and private evaluations which form the basis of the view expressed. ( )Inorder Here I have to confess that this sketch of the epistemological interpretation of Nietzsche's perspectivism may not be the most sympathetic one, and no doubt one can find in the literature much more sophisticated versions of this doctrine. However, this does not affect the main point I want to make, which consists in the claim that the epistemological reading misses the central feature of Nietzsche's doctrine. There are some other misgivings concerning the reading that deserve mention. The first consists in the fact that Nietzsche - especially in BGE - is not in sympathy with skepticism (see ). Hence, why should he be interested in putting forward a doctrine containing skeptical implications? A further reservation about the feasibility of the epistemological reading can be seen in the annoying consequence of having to credit Nietzsche with all sorts of paradoxical and self-refuting claims such as 'If perspectivism is true we cannot know it to be true.' It should be noted that the 'German form of skepticism' discussed approvingly in has nothing to do with epistemological skepticism. xxi Introduction to judge the correctness, or perhaps merely the plausibility, of such a claim, one has to have an experiential or existential background similar to that of the person who made the claim. It is because of this insistence on integrating subjective aspects into the process of understanding, and because of the idea that judging the truth of a view presupposes shared experiences, that I call this the 'socio-hermeneutical' reading of perspectivism."}
{"text": "If perspectivism is understood in these terms, then much of what is going on in BGE and other texts by Nietzsche begins to look considerably less arbitrary and idiosyncratic than has been claimed. For example, his so-called 'theory of truth' which he alludes to quite often in the first two books of BGE , seems less absurd than many commentators have taken it to be. According to these critics Nietzsche's perspectival conception of truth endorses the following three statements: ( ) there is no absolute or objective truth; ( ) what is taken to be truth is nothing but a fiction, that is, a perspectival counterfeit or forgery ( Falschung ) of what really is the case; and ( ) claims ( ) and ( ) are true. These three statements together seem to imply the paradoxical claim that it is true that there is no truth. So the critic argues. However, when read in the light of the preceding remarks a much less extravagant interpretation of Nietzsche's theory of truth suggests itself which is completely independent of the issue of whether he really subscribes to these three statements. On this interpretation, Nietzsche's theory claims only ( ) that there are no context-free truths, where a context is to be defined as the set of subjective conditions that the utterer of a truth is governed by and that anyone who wishes correctly to judge it is able to apprehend. It also claims ( ) that as an utterer or judger of a truth we are never in a position to be familiar with a context in its entirety, that is, with all the conditions that define it, and therefore we have to settle for an incomplete version of a context where the degree of incompleteness depends on differences between our capacities to understand ourselves and others. From this it follows ( ) that, given our situation, every truth is defined by this necessarily That there are many epistemological and logical problems connected with holding such a paradoxical claim is not difficult to point out. The most comprehensive discussion of these problems with reference to Nietzsche that I know of is by M. Clark, Nietzsche on Truth and Philosophy (Cambridge University Press: Cambridge, ). Put a bit more bluntly, this claim amounts to the assertion that the concept 'objective or absolute truth' is an empty concept when understood in contraposition to 'perspectival truth.' xxii"}
{"text": "incomplete context. Thus every truth is a partial truth or a perspectival fiction. This 'socio-hermeneutical' reading of perspectivism points to a more commonsensical understanding of Nietzsche's claims regarding truth. It also suggests that some of the stylistic peculiarities of BGE and other texts had a methodological function. BGE , like most of Nietzsche's other texts, has an aphoristic form. It looks like a collection of impromptu remarks, each of which explores to a different degree of depth some aspect or other of a particular observation, specific claim, or surprising phenomenon. These remarks are numbered and loosely organized into topic-related groups, each one of which carries a short descriptive phrase that functions as its title. The impression is of an apparently arbitrary compilation of notes which are actually presented in an artful, though idiosyncratic way. Thus it has been maintained that we should approach BGE as we would a work of literature rather than strictly in terms of philosophical text. Thoughthisimpressionisbynomeansmisleading,itfailstobesensitiveto the intentions guiding the architectonic of this text. If a claim is fully comprehensible only when placed in its appropriate subjective and existential context, then it is incumbent on an author to convey as much information about this context as possible. One way of doing this consists in presenting a whole array of thoughts which are designed primarily to inform us about the various subjective stances characteristic of the individual making the claim. The resulting collection may seem random because it can include almost any conceivable digression under the pretense of being informative about the subjective context. However, if the socio-hermeneutical interpretation is correct, the seeming randomness of Nietzsche's aphorisms can equally well be taken as a calculated and methodologically appropriate consequence of his perspectivism. In Nietzsche's writings, as in life, randomness can turn out to be an applied method in disguise."}
{"text": "It should be noticed that this reading is compatible with some of the most disturbing features of Nietzsche's talk about truth. It allows us to make sense of his insistence that there are degrees of truth, which is exhibited most clearly in BGE in his reflection on how much 'truth' one can take ( ). It also makes understandable the idea, very important to him, that truth is just a special case of error. And it allows for the use of personal pronouns in connection with truth, a habit Nietzsche is very fond of (cf. , , ). Though there is some question as to the applicability of terms such as 'aphorism' or 'aphoristic form'toNietzsche's texts, he himself does not seem to have problems with such a characterization. His own use of these terms in reference to his writings is documented in On the Genealogy of Morals , Preface ( KSA V, p. )and ( KSA V, p. )andin Twilight of Idols , , ( KSA VI, p. ). xxiii Introduction V BGE deals with questions of how values arise psychologically and how we should evaluate them. It discusses the origin and the meaning of philosophical values such as truth, the religious practice of establishing and enforcing specific values such as faith, piety, and love of man, and the motives and mechanisms involved in our cultivation of moral values such as pity, fairness, and willingness to help each other. It also treats such political and social values as democracy, equality, and progress, seeing them as means of oppression and as indicators of decay and degeneration. Most of this is done with the aim of finding out what brought about the modern way of life, and what made modern culture such a doomed enterprise. The general tendency of the book is to claim that at the base of the most deeply habitualized normative evaluations that modern people take for granted, their most fundamental judgments about what has to be considered 'good' or 'bad' in almost every sphere of human activity, there ultimately lies a mixture of appalling character traits, ranging from weakness and fear to wishful thinking and self-betrayal, and all these find their symptomatic expression in the modern condition."}
{"text": "Neither this critical message nor the material Nietzsche relies upon in order to substantiate his assessment of modernity is peculiar to BGE .In almost all his other writings, he discusses the shortcomings of philosophy, the dangers of religion, the built-in biases of science, and the damaging consequences of institutionalized moral and cultural values, and he arrives at similar bleak conclusions. Thus, the message of BGE is just another version of Nietzsche's general project. However, BGE is distinctive not only in its emphasis on a psychological explanation of the rise to dominanceofspecificvalues, but also in two further respects. The first relates to the doctrine of the 'will to power,' the second to his views on what might becalled'good'or'adequate'waysofconfrontingreality.Bothtopicsbelong to his relatively rare excursions into the world of 'positive' thinking. Obviously this overlap is intended by Nietzsche. It seems to be an architectonic device, for he frequentlyquotesfromandalludestohisothertexts.Thebestexampleofthispracticeistobefound rightatthebeginning( )of BGE wherehecitesalmostverbatimfromthebeginningof Human,All Too Human . This quotation refers to his diagnosis of the most fundamental mistake of traditional metaphysicians, i.e., their conception of the origin of oppositions. Cf. B. Glatzeder: 'Perspektiven der W unschbarkeit'. Nietzsches Metaphysikkritik in Menschliches Allzumenschliches (Philo Verlag: Berlin, ). In quoting this appraisal, which forms the basis of his far reaching criticism of metaphysics and its notion of 'objective' truth, he can treat it like a result whose justification is already given elsewhere. xxiv"}
{"text": "The 'will to power' makes its first public appearance in Thus Spoke Zarathustra . There it is introduced as one of the three major teachings Zarathustra has to offer, the other two being his advocacy of the overman ( Ubermensch ) and the conception of the Eternal Recurrence. It is somewhat surprising that in Zarathustra Nietzsche has little to say about what the 'will to power' means. Fortunately he is a bit more explicit in BGE , although here too the doctrine receives what is by no means an exhaustive treatment. There is, however, some evidence that he wants us to think of this doctrine as advancing or at least implying an ontological hypothesis. Focusing on the hints he gives in BGE , the following picture emerges: if we look at the phenomenon of organic life as an integral part of reality, we find that it consists not in a static condition but in a dynamic and chaotic process of creation and decay, of overpowering and becoming overpowered, of suppressing and being suppressed. This suggests that what governs these processes is some sort of power struggle where every single form of life has a tendency to overpower every other form. However, to think of life in this way we have to assume that each living particle is endowed with a certain amount of power that it has a will to realize. This amount is supposed to define its 'will to power' and thus is ultimately decisive for its ability to develop itself and to survive, or, to use a famous Nietzschean phrase, for its potential to become what it is. It is this line of thought which led Nietzsche to the assertion that life is 'will to power' ( , ). But this is merely one part of the story. In BGE Nietzsche tentatively tries to pursue the conception of a 'will to power' in a further direction. He aims at a broader application of the conception by transforming it from a principle of organic life into a much broader axiom pertaining to the essence of nature in general. It is here that it acquires an ontological meaning. The main motive for his attempt to conceive of the 'will to power' as a general ontological principle seems to be that there is no"}
{"text": "It is because of the relatively superficial and vague treatment of this doctrine in his published writings that many interpretations of the meaning and function of 'will to power' rely heavily on Nietzsche's Nachlass , the voluminous collection of his unpublished notes. However, though the Nachlass indeed contains a considerable amount of material pertaining to that conception, it has the disadvantage of giving support to widely divergent, if not contradictory, interpretations. This is due to the fact that Nietzsche seems to have been experimenting with different meanings of this concept without reaching a definite position. To appreciate the whole range of readings possible see, for example, G. Abel, Nietzsche: Die Dynamik der Willen zur Macht und die ewige Wiederkehr (de Gruyter: Berlin, , nd edn), and V. Gerhardt, Vom Willen zur Macht: Anthropologie und Metaphysik der Macht am exemplarischen Fall Friedrich Nietzsches (de Gruyter: Berlin, ). xxv Introduction reason to restrict the explanatory force of that concept to organic life. Why not think of inorganic matter, of the material world, in terms of 'will to power' as well? Matter would then have to be conceived as 'will to power' paralyzed, as 'will to power' in a state of potentiality. According to Nietzsche this view would allow for a unified account of the world in its totality: 'The world seen from inside, the world determined and described with respect to its 'intelligible character' - would be just this will to power and nothing else' ( ). This view would also have the advantage of overcoming the basic bias of traditional metaphysics that there is a difference in kind between being and becoming, because it implies that being static and stable is in the end nothing but a degenerative form of becoming, or nothing but an unactualized power process. It goes without saying that Nietzsche is very much in favor of this claim."}
{"text": "Evenif it is conceded that Nietzsche never really elaborated his concept of the 'will to power' sufficiently, it does not appear to be one of his more attractive ideas. The reason for this is that it purports to give us insight into the essence of nature, what nature is 'in itself,' but this does not square well with his emphatic criticism, put forward in BGE and elsewhere, of the very notion of an 'in itself.' According to Nietzsche there is no 'in itself,' no essence, no fixed nature of things, and all beliefs to the contrary are founded on deep and far-reaching metaphysical illusions. It seems therefore that one cannot avoid the unsettling conclusion that the doctrine of a 'will to power' shares all the vices which Nietzsche attributes to metaphysical thinking in general. Thereare no such untoward consequences of the second piece of 'positive' thinking in BGE , but this is because it scarcely qualifies as thinking at all, consisting instead of fantasies about what the ideal conditions would be for a person to be able to participate in productive thinking. Here productive thinking seems to mean the capacity to live up to the task of enduring an unbiased assessment of reality. Nietzsche summarizes these fantasies in the picture he gives of the 'new philosophers' and in remarks on what it means to be noble. Nobility, for him, has to do with putting oneself at a distance from people and things. It is rooted in and is the product of the 'pathos of distance,' to use his influential formula ( ). This pathos has to be conceived as the socially inherited ability ( ) to have a sense for differences in rank between persons, ( ) to accept these differences as pointing to differences in distinction (defined as a positive quality of worthiness), and ( ) to strive for higher distinction. A person possessing xxvi"}
{"text": "this ability is able to strive for unique states of awareness: 'Without the pathos of distance ... that other more mysterious pathos could not have grown at all, that demand for new expansions of distance within the soul itself, the development of states that are increasingly high, rare, distant, tautly drawn and comprehensive, and, in short, the enhancement of the type 'man,' the constant 'self-overcoming of man' (to use a moral formula in a supra-moral sense)' ( ). The ability to achieve such states seems to function as a condition of gaining important insights and having thepsychologicalresourcesneededtolivewiththem,anditindicatesacertain stance towards reality superior to 'normal' or 'common' attitudes (cf. ). With this plea for nobility Nietzsche states again his conviction that what ultimately counts in our epistemic dealings with reality is not knowledge per se , that is, knowledge detached from the knower. What deserves the title of knowledge has to be intimately connected with the special and unique situation a knowing subject is in. This is so not only because according to Nietzsche knowledge is not an 'objective' or impersonal affair, something one can have like a detached thing that one possesses, but above all because the knowing subject has to live his knowledge. The extent to which a subject can do this depends on personal constitution, character traits, and intellectual robustness. Knowledge thus becomes associated with the question of how much truth one can endure (cf. ). It is in this context that the concept of nobility reveals itself to be part of a 'positive' teaching: nobility that is the product of the social pathos of distance increases the potential of a subject for enduring 'uncommon' knowledge because it promotes more comprehensive states, and these in turn indicate a growing strength in the subject's character that enables it to cope with more of 'the truth.' This at least seems to be Nietzsche's message."}
{"text": "Whatisitthatmakesreading BGE andotherwritingsof Nietzschesuch an attractive and stimulating experience? The main reason, I believe, has little to do with the plausibility, let alone the correctness, of his views. On the contrary, we like many of his ideas precisely because of their pointed one-sidedness, their extravagance, and their eccentricity. Nor, I suspect, are we now especially preoccupied with the topics which he obviously took to be decisive for an evaluation of our way of living under modern conditions. Many of his themes we now consider rather obsolete, and to some of them we no longer have any immediate access because they xxvii are deeply rooted in their nineteenth-century contexts. The fascination his works still have must therefore originate from somewhere else. If one wants to account for the appeal of his writings, it is perhaps advisable not to look too closely at his actual teachings, but to think of his texts as a kind of mental tonic designed to encourage his readers to continue to confront their doubts and suspicions about the well-foundedness of many of their most fundamental ideas about themselves and their world. This wouldsuggestthatNietzsche's works may still be captivating because they confront a concern that is not restricted to modern times. They address our uncomfortable feeling that our awareness of ourselves and of the world depends on conceptions that we ultimately do not understand. We conceive of ourselves as subjects trying to live a decent life, guided in our doings by aims that fit the normal expectations of our social and cultural environment; we believe certain things to be true beyond any doubt, and we hold others and ourselves to many moral obligations. Although all this is constitutive of a normal way of life, we have only a vague idea of why we have to deal with things in this way; we do not really know what in the end justifies these practices. In questioning not the normality but the objectivity or truth of such a normal world view, Nietzsche's writings can have the effect of making us feel less worried about our inability to account for some of our central convictions in an 'absolute' way. It is up to each of us to decide whether to be grateful for this reminder or to loathe it. Rolf-Peter Horstmann xxviii"}
{"text": ", 1 = Born in Rocken, a small village in the Prussian province of Saxony, on October.. , 1 = Birth of his sister Elisabeth.. , 1 = Birth of his brother Joseph.. , 1 = 'softening of the brain.' Brother dies; family moves to Naumburg to live with father's. , 1 = mother and her sisters.. , 1 = Begins studies at Pforta, Germany's most famous school for education in the classics.. , 1 = Graduates from Pforta with a thesis in Latin on the Greek poet Theogonis; enters the University of Bonn as a theology student. Transfers from Bonn, following the classical philologist. , 1 = Friedrich Ritschl to Leipzig where he registers as a philology student; reads Schopenhauer's The World as Will and Representation . Reads Friedrich Lange's History of Materialism .. , 1 = . , 1 = Meets Richard Wagner.. , 1 = OnRitschl's recommendation is appointed professor of classical philology at Basle at the age of twenty-four before completing his doctorate (which is then conferred without a dissertation);. , 1 = begins frequent visits to the Wagner residence at Tribschen.. , 1 = Serves as a medical orderly in the Franco-Prussian war; contracts a serious illness and so serves only two months. Writes 'The Dionysiac World View.' xxix"}
{"text": ", Chronology = Publishes his first book, The Birth of Tragedy ; its dedicatory preface to Richard Wagner claims for art the role of 'the highest task and truly metaphysical activity of this life'; devastating reviews follow. Publishes 'David Strauss, the Confessor and the Writer,' the first of his Untimely Meditations ; begins taking books on natural science out of the Basle library, whereas he had previously. , Chronology = confinedhimselflargelytobooksonphilologicalmatters.Writes 'On Truth and Lying in a Non-Moral Sense.' Publishes two more Meditations , 'The Uses and Disadvantages of History for Life' and 'Schopenhauer as Educator.'. , Chronology = . , Chronology = Publishes the fourth Meditation , 'Richard Wagner in Bayreuth,' which already bears subtle signs of his movement away from Wagner.. , Chronology = Publishes Human, All Too Human (dedicated to the memory of Voltaire); it praises science over art as the mark of high culture and thus marks a decisive turn away from Wagner.. , Chronology = Terrible health problems force him to resign his chair at Basle (with a small pension); publishes 'Assorted Opinions and Maxims,' the first part of vol. II of Human, All Too Human ; begins living alone in Swiss and Italian boarding-houses.. , Chronology = Publishes 'The Wanderer and His Shadow,' which becomes the second part of vol. II of Human, All Too Human .. , Chronology = Publishes Daybreak .. , Chronology = Publishes Idylls of Messina (eight poems)inamonthlymagazine; publishes The Gay Science ; friendship with Paul Ree and. , Chronology = Publishes the first two parts of Thus Spoke Zarathustra ; learns of Wagner's death just after mailing part one to the publisher. Publishes the third part of Thus Spoke Zarathustra .. , Chronology = . , Chronology = Publishes the fourth part of Zarathustra for private circulation only.. , Chronology = Publishes BeyondGoodandEvil ; writes prefaces for new releases of: The Birth of Tragedy, Human, All Too Human , vols. I and II, and Daybreak . xxx"}
{"text": ", 1 = Publishes expanded edition of The Gay Science with a new preface, a fifth part, and an appendix of poems; publishes Hymn to Life , a musical work for chorus and orchestra; publishes On the Genealogy of Morality . Publishes The Case of Wagner , composes a collection of poems, Dionysian Dithyrambs , and four short books: Twilight of Idols ,. , 1 = The Antichrist , Ecce Homo , and Nietzsche contra Wagner . Collapses physically and mentally in Turin on January; writes. , 1 = a few lucid notes but never recovers sanity; is briefly institutionalized; spends remainder of his life as an invalid, living with his mother and then his sister, who also gains control of his literary estate. Dies in Weimar on August. xxxi"}
{"text": "There is a good deal of material in Nietzsche's unpublished notes that makes interesting supplementary reading for the study of BGE . It can be found in vols. VII/ and VII/ of Werke: Kritische Gesamtausgabe , ed. G. Colli and M. Montinari (de Gruyter: Berlin, ). Also very useful is vol. XIV of Samtliche Werke: Kritische Studienausgabe , ed. G. Colli and M. Montinari (de Gruyter: Berlin and Deutscher Taschenbuch Verlag: Munich, ), pp. - , which contains earlier and often much more extensive versions of many of the aphorisms collected in BGE . This material is not yet available in the Kritische Gesamtausgabe . Nietzsche's own assessment of the aims and merits of BGE can be found in his late autobiographical work Ecce Homo , written in and published in . The literature on Nietzsche is immense, though there are almost no books and very few articles dealing directly and exclusively with BGE . Titles worth mentioning would be: A. Nehemas, 'Will to Knowledge, Will to Ignorance, and Will to Power in 'Beyond Good and Evil,'' in Y. Yovel, ed., Nietzsche as Affirmative Thinker (Reidel Publishing Company: Dordrecht, Boston, and Lancaster, ), pp. - ;P.J.van Tongeren, Die Moral von Nietzsche's Moralkritik. Beitrag zu einem Kommentar von Nietzsches 'Jenseits von Gut und Bose ' (Bouvier Verlag: Bonn, ); and D. B. Allison, 'A Diet of Worms: Aposiopetic Rhetoric in 'Beyond Good and Evil,'' Nietzsche Studien ( ), pp. - . Some people might find it rewarding to approach Nietzsche's thought before reading about its biographical background. There are quite a number of interesting and well-researched (German) biographies, of which the best known are C. P. Janz, Friedrich Nietzsche. Biographie , vols. (Hanser Verlag: Munich, - ), W. Ross, Der angstliche Adler xxxii Further reading"}
{"text": "(Deutsche Verlags-Anstalt: Stuttgart, ), and R. Safranski, Nietzsche. Biographie seines Denkens (Hanser Verlag: Munich, ). All of these works discuss aspects of BGE as well. Nietzsche, his themes, and his topics have been subject to some very different interpretations, depending on the philosophical tradition in which the interpreter is located. This has led to quite interesting 'regional' schools of interpretation, especially with respect to the will-to-power doctrine and to Nietzsche's epistemological views, topics which surface prominentlyin BGE . These schools are best characterized in geographical terms as 'German,' 'French,' and 'Anglo-American.' The best-known and most influential representative of the 'German,' metaphysically oriented school is Martin Heidegger, whose two-volume study Nietzsche (Neske: Pfullingen, ; English translation: Harper and Row: New York, ) had an enormous impact on the discussion about Nietzsche and his role in the history of metaphysics, at least in parts of Europe. The 'French' school, which tends to be more interested in the destructive or 'deconstructive' motives in Nietzsche's thought, is impressively represented in the works of Gilles Deleuze, Nietzsche et la philosophie (Presses Universitaires de France: Paris, ), and Nietzsche (Presses Universitaires de France: Paris, ), P. Klossovski, Nietzsche et le cercle vicieux (Mercure de France: Paris, ), and S. Kofman, Nietzsche et la metaphore (Editions Payot: Paris, ). Their books have led to lively controversies not only about specific Nietzschean views but also about how to read Nietzsche at all. The 'Anglo-American' school seems to be mainly interested in integrating Nietzsche into the gallery of 'serious' thinkers, committed to what their emissaries take to be the normal standards of rationality. Convincing examples of this approach are A. Nehemas, Nietzsche:LifeasLiterature (HarvardUniversityPress:Cambridge, ), and M. Clark, Nietzsche on Truth and Philosophy (Cambridge University Press: Cambridge, ). All of these schools and all the books mentioned have interesting things to say on many aspects of Nietzsche's views that are expressed in BGE . xxxiii"}
{"text": "The translation follows the German text as printed in the critical edition of Nietzsche's works edited by G. Colli and M. Montinari (de Gruyter: Berlin, -). The footnotes are not meant to provide a commentary to Nietzsche's text. They are restricted to ( ) translations of phrases and terms from foreign languages, ( ) explanations of peculiarities of Nietzsche's German terminology, and ( ) some comments on material used or alluded to by Nietzsche. The glossary of names on pp. - contains short descriptions of all persons mentioned in the text. The notes and the glossary make use of information supplied by vols. XIV and XV of Samtliche Werke: Kritische Studienausgabe , ed. G. Colli and M. Montinari, vols. (de Gruyter: Berlin and Deutscher Taschenbuch Verlag: Munich, ). They are the joint product of Dina Emundts, Rolf-Peter Horstmann, and Judith Norman. Thetranslator would like to thank all the people whose advice and suggestions have helped with the project. In particular, Alistair Welchman, Thomas Sebastian, Rolf-Peter Horstmann, and Karl Ameriks have provided considerable assistance with the translation, and Richard, Caroline, and Sara Norman, and Alistair Welchman have given invaluable encouragement and support. Their contribution to the project is gratefully acknowledged. xxxiv Beyond Good and Evil Prelude to a Philosophy of the Future"}
{"text": "Suppose that truth is a woman - and why not? Aren't there reasons for suspecting that all philosophers, to the extent that they have been dogmatists, have not really understood women? That the grotesque seriousness of their approach towards the truth and the clumsy advances they have madesofar are unsuitable ways of pressing their suit with a woman? What is certain is that she has spurned them - leaving dogmatism of all types standing sad and discouraged. If it is even left standing! Because there are those who make fun of dogmatism, claiming that it has fallen over, that it is lying flat on its face, or more, that dogmatism is in its last gasps. But seriously, there are good reasons for hoping that all dogmatizing in philosophy was just noble (though childish) ambling and preambling, however solemn, settled and decisive it might have seemed. And perhaps the time is very near when we will realize again and again just what actually served as the cornerstone of those sublime and unconditional philosophical edifices that the dogmatists used to build - some piece of folk superstition from time immemorial (like the soul-superstition that still causes trouble as the superstition of the subject or I), some word-play perhaps, a seduction of grammar or an over-eager generalization from facts that are really very local, very personal, very human-all-too-human. Let us hope that the dogmatists' philosophy was only a promise over the millennia, as was the case even earlier with astrology, in whose service perhaps more labor, money, ingenuity, and patience was expended than for any real science so far. We owe the great style of architecture in Asia and Egypt to astrology and its 'supernatural' claims. It seems that all great things, in order to inscribe eternal demands in the heart of humanity, must first wander the earth under monstrous and terrifying masks; dogmatic philosophy Beyond Good and Evil"}
{"text": "was this sort of a mask: the Vedanta doctrine in Asia, for example, or Platonism in Europe. We should not be ungrateful towards dogmatism, but it must nonetheless be said that the worst, most prolonged, and most dangerous of all errors to this day was a dogmatist's error, namely Plato's invention of pure spirit and the Good in itself. But now that it has been overcome, and Europe breathes a sigh of relief after this nightmare, and at least can enjoy a healthier - well - sleep, we, whose task is wakefulness itself , are the heirs to all the force cultivated through the struggle against this error. Of course: talking about spirit and the Good like Plato did meant standing truth on its head and disowning even perspectivism , which is the fundamental condition of all life. In fact, as physicians we could ask: 'How could such a disease infect Plato, the most beautiful outgrowth of antiquity? Did the evil Socrates corrupt him after all? was Socrates in fact the corrupter of youth? did he deserve his hemlock?' - But the struggle against Plato, or, to use a clear and 'popular' idiom, the struggle against the Christian-ecclesiastical pressure of millennia - since Christianity is Platonism for the 'people' - has created a magnificent tension of spirit in Europe, the likes of which the earth has never known: with such a tension in our bow we can now shoot at the furthest goals. Granted, the European experiences this tension as a crisis or state of need; and twice already there have been attempts, in a grand fashion, to unbend the bow, once through Jesuitism, and the second time through the democratic Enlightenment: - which, with the help of freedom of the press and circulation of newspapers, might really insure that spirit does not experience itself so readily as 'need'! (Germans invented gunpowder - all honors due! But they made up for it - they invented the press.) But we, who are neither Jesuits nor democrats, nor even German enough, we good Europeans and free, very free spirits - we still have it, the whole need of spirit and the whole tension of its bow! And perhaps the arrow too, the task, and - who knows? the goal ... Sils-Maria , Upper Engadine, June,"}
{"text": "Thewilltotruth that still seduces us into taking so many risks, this famous truthfulness that all philosophers so far have talked about with veneration: what questions this will to truth has already laid before us! What strange, terrible, questionable questions! That is already a long story - and yet it seems to have hardly begun? Is it any wonder if we finally become suspicious, lose patience, turn impatiently away? That we ourselves are also learning from this Sphinx to pose questions? Who is it really that questions us here? What in us really wills the truth? In fact, we paused for a long time before the question of the cause of this will - until we finally came to a complete standstill in front of an even more fundamental question. We asked about the value of this will. Granted, we will truth: why not untruth instead? And uncertainty? Even ignorance? The problem of the value of truth came before us, - or was it we who came before the problem? Which of us is Oedipus? Which one is the Sphinx? It seems we have a rendezvous of questions and question-marks. - And, believe it or not, it ultimately looks to us as if the problem has never been raised until now, - as if we were the first to ever see it, fix our gaze on it, risk it . Because this involves risk and perhaps no risk has ever been greater. 'How could anything originate out of its opposite? Truth from error, for instance? Or the will to truth from the will to deception? Or selfless action from self-interest? Or the pure, sun-bright gaze of wisdom from a covetous leer? Such origins are impossible, and people who dream about Beyond Good and Evil"}
{"text": "such things are fools - at best. Things of the highest value must have another, separate origin of their own , - they cannot be derived from this ephemeral, seductive, deceptive, lowly world, from this mad chaos of confusion and desire. Look instead to the lap of being, the everlasting, the hidden God, the 'thing-in-itself ' this is where their ground must be, and nowhere else!' - This way of judging typifies the prejudices by which metaphysicians of all ages can be recognized: this type of valuation lies behind all their logical procedures. From these 'beliefs' they try to acquire their 'knowledge,' to acquire something that will end up being solemnly christened as 'the truth.' The fundamental belief of metaphysicians is the belief in oppositions of values . It has not occurred to even the most cautious of them to start doubting right here at the threshold, where it is actually needed the most - even though they had vowed to themselves ' de omnibus dubitandum .' But we can doubt, first, whether opposites even exist and, second, whether the popular valuations and value oppositions that have earned the metaphysicians' seal of approval might not only be foreground appraisals. Perhaps they are merely provisional perspectives, perhaps they are not even viewed head-on; perhaps they are even viewed from below, like a frog-perspective, to borrow an expression that painters will recognize. Whatever value might be attributed to truth, truthfulness, andselflessness, it could be possible that appearance, the will to deception, and craven self-interest should be accorded a higher and more fundamental value for all life. It could even be possible that whatever gives value to those good and honorable things has an incriminating link, bond, or tie to the very things that look like their evil opposites; perhaps they are even essentially the same. Perhaps! - But who is willing to take charge of such a dangerous Perhaps! For this we must await the arrival of a new breed of philosophers, ones whose taste and inclination are somehow the reverse of those we have seen so far - philosophers of the dangerous Perhaps in every sense. - And in all seriousness: I see these new philosophers approaching. I have kept a close eye on the philosophers and read between their lines for long enough to say to myself: the greatest part of conscious thought"}
{"text": "Cf. Human, All too Human ,I, . Everything is to be doubted. On the prejudices of philosophers must still be attributed to instinctive activity, and this is even the case for philosophical thought. This issue needs re-examination in the same way that heredity and 'innate characteristics' have been re-examined. Just as the act of birth makes no difference to the overall course of heredity, neither is 'consciousness' opposed to instinct in any decisive sense - most of a philosopher's conscious thought is secretly directed and forced into determinate channels by the instincts. Even behind all logic and its autocratic posturings stand valuations or, stated more clearly, physiological requirements for the preservation of a particular type of life. For example, that the determinate is worth more than the indeterminate, appearance worth less than the 'truth': despite all their regulative importance for us , these sorts of appraisals could still be just foreground appraisals, a particular type of niaiserie , precisely what is needed for the preservation of beings like us. But this assumes that it is not man who is the 'measure of things' ... Wedonotconsiderthefalsityofajudgmentasitself an objection to a judgment;thisisperhapswhereournewlanguagewillsoundmostforeign.The question is how far the judgment promotes and preserves life, how well it preserves, and perhaps even cultivates, the type. And we are fundamentally inclined to claim that the falsest judgments (which include synthetic judgments a priori ) are the most indispensable to us, and that without accepting the fictions of logic, without measuring reality against the wholly invented world of the unconditioned and self-identical, without a constant falsification of the world through numbers, people could not live - that a renunciation of false judgments would be a renunciation of life, a negation of life. To acknowledge untruth as a condition of life: this clearly means resisting the usual value feelings in a dangerous manner; and a philosophy that risks such a thing would by that gesture alone place itself beyond good and evil. What goads us into regarding all philosophers with an equal measure of mistrust and mockery is not that we are struck repeatedly by how innocent Silliness. Beyond Good and Evil"}
{"text": "they are - how often and easily they err and stray, in short, their childish childlikeness - but rather that there is not enough genuine honesty about them: even though they all make a huge, virtuous racket as soon as the problem of truthfulness is even remotely touched upon. They all act as if they had discovered and arrived at their genuine convictions through the self-development of a cold, pure, divinely insouciant dialectic (in contrast to the mystics of every rank, who are more honest than the philosophers and also sillier - they talk about 'inspiration' -): while what essentially happens is that they take a conjecture, a whim, an 'inspiration' or, more typically, they take some fervent wish that they have sifted through and made properly abstract - and they defend it with rationalizations after the fact. They are all advocates who do not want to be seen as such; for the most part, in fact, they are sly spokesmen for prejudices that they christen as 'truths' - and very far indeed from the courage of conscience that confesses to this fact, this very fact; and very far from having the good taste of courage that also lets this be known, perhaps to warn a friend or foe, or out of a high-spirited attempt at self-satire. The stiff yet demure tartuffery used by the old Kant to lure us along the clandestine, dialectical path that leads the way (or rather: astray) to his 'categorical imperative' this spectacle provides no small amusement for discriminating spectators like us, who keep a close eye on the cunning tricks of the old moralists and preachers of morals. Or even that hocus pocus of a mathematical form used by Spinoza to arm and outfit his philosophy (a term which, when all is said and done, really means ' his love of wisdom') and thus, from the very start, to strike terror into the heart of the attacker who would dare to cast a glance at the unconquerable maiden and Pallas Athena: - how much personal timidity and vulnerability this sick hermit's masquerade reveals!"}
{"text": "I have gradually come to realize what every great philosophy so far has been: a confession of faith on the part of its author, and a type of involuntary and unself-conscious memoir; in short, that the moral (or immoral) intentions in every philosophy constitute the true living seed from which the whole plant has always grown. Actually, to explain how the strangest metaphysical claims of a philosopher really come about, it is always good (and wise) to begin by asking: what morality is it (is he -) getting at? Consequently, I do not believe that a 'drive for knowledge' is the father of On the prejudices of philosophers philosophy, but rather that another drive, here as elsewhere, used knowledge (and mis-knowledge!) merely as a tool. But anyone who looks at people's basic drives, to see how far they may have played their little game right here as inspiring geniuses (or daemons or sprites -), will find that they all practiced philosophy at some point, - and that every single one of them would be only too pleased to present itself as the ultimate purpose of existence and as rightful master of all the other drives. Because every drive craves mastery, and this leads it to try philosophizing. - Of course: with scholars, the truly scientific people, things might be different - 'better' if you will -, with them, there might really be something like a drive for knowledge, some independent little clockwork mechanism that, once well wound, ticks bravely away without essentially involving the rest of the scholar's drives. For this reason, the scholar's real 'interests' usually lie somewhere else entirely, with the family, or earning money, or in politics; in fact, it is almost a matter of indifference whether his little engine is put to work in this or that field of research, and whether the 'promising' young worker turns himself into a good philologist or fungus expert or chemist: - it doesn't signify anything about him that he becomes one thing or the other. In contrast, there is absolutely nothing impersonal about the philosopher; and in particular his morals bear decided and decisive witness to who he is - which means, in what order of rank the innermost drives of his nature stand with respect to each other."}
{"text": "How malicious philosophers can be! I do not know anything more venomous than the joke Epicurus allowed himself against Plato and the Platonists: he called them Dionysiokolakes. Literally, the foreground meaning of this term is 'sycophants of Dionysus' and therefore accessories of the tyrant and brown-nosers; but it also wants to say 'they're all actors , there's nothing genuine about them' (since Dionysokolax was a popular term for an actor). And this second meaning is really the malice that Epicurus hurled against Plato: he was annoyed by the magnificent style, the mise-en-sc'ene that Plato and his students were so good at, - that Epicurus was not so good at! He, the old schoolmaster from Samos, who sat hidden in his little garden in Athens and wrote three hundred books, Epicurus, Fragment . Beyond Good and Evil who knows? perhaps out of anger and ambition against Plato? - It took a hundred years for Greece to find out who this garden god Epicurus had been. - Did it find out? In every philosophy there is a point where the philosopher's 'conviction' steps onto the stage: or, to use the language of an ancient Mystery: adventavit asinus pulcher et fortissimus."}
{"text": "So you want to live 'according to nature?' Oh, you noble Stoics, what a fraud is in this phrase! Imagine something like nature, profligate without measure, indifferent without measure, without purpose and regard, without mercy and justice, fertile and barren and uncertain at the same time, think of indifference itself as power - how could you live according to this indifference? Living - isn't that wanting specifically to be something other than this nature? Isn't living assessing, preferring, being unfair, being limited, wanting to be different? And assuming your imperative to 'live according to nature' basically amounts to 'living according to life' - well how could you not ? Why make a principle out of what you yourselves are and must be? - But in fact, something quite different is going on: while pretending with delight to read the canon of your law in nature, you want the opposite, you strange actors and self-deceivers! Your pride wants to dictate and annex your morals and ideals onto nature - yes, nature itself -, you demand that it be nature 'according to Stoa' and you want to make all existence exist in your own image alone - as a huge eternal glorification and universalization of Stoicism! For all your love of truth, you have forced yourselves so long, so persistently, and with such hypnotic rigidity to have a false , namely Stoic, view of nature, that you can no longer see it any other way, - and some abysmal piece of arrogance finally gives you the madhouse hope that because you know how to tyrannize yourselves - Stoicism is self-tyranny -, nature lets itself be 'In came the ass / beautiful and very strong.' According to KSA these lines could be taken from G. C. Lichtenberg's Vermischte Schriften ( Miscellaneous Writings )( ), V, p. . On the prejudices of philosophers"}
{"text": "tyrannized as well: because isn't the Stoic a piece of nature? ... But this is an old, eternal story: what happened back then with the Stoics still happens today, just as soon as a philosophy begins believing in itself. It always creates the world in its own image, it cannot do otherwise; philosophy is this tyrannical drive itself, the most spiritual will to power, to the 'creation of the world,' to the causa prima ."}
{"text": "All over Europe these days, the problem 'of the real and the apparent world' gets taken up so eagerly and with such acuity-Iwould even say: shrewdness - that you really start to think and listen; and anyone who hears only a 'will to truth' in the background here certainly does not have the sharpest of ears. In rare and unusual cases, some sort of will to truth might actually be at issue, some wild and adventurous streak of courage, a metaphysician's ambition to hold on to a lost cause, that, in the end, will still prefer a handful of 'certainty' to an entire wagonload of pretty possibilities. There might even be puritanical fanatics of conscience who wouldratherlie dying on an assured nothing than an uncertain something. But this is nihilism, and symptomatic of a desperate soul in a state of deadly exhaustion, however brave such virtuous posturing may appear. Withstronger,livelierthinkers,however,thinkerswhostillhaveathirstfor life, things look different. By taking sides against appearance and speaking about'perspective'inanewlyarroganttone,bygrantingtheirownbodies about as little credibility as they grant the visual evidence that says 'the earth stands still,' and so, with seemingly good spirits, relinquishing their most secure possession (since what do people believe in more securely these days than their bodies?), who knows whether they are not basically trying to re-appropriate something that was once possessed even more securely , something from the old estate of a bygone faith, perhaps 'the immortal soul' or perhaps 'the old God,' in short, ideas that helped make life a bit better, which is to say stronger and more cheerful than 'modern ideas' can do? There is a mistrust of these modern ideas here, there is a disbelief in everything built yesterday and today; perhaps it is mixed with a bit of antipathy and contempt that can no longer stand the bric-a-brac of concepts from the most heterogeneous sources, which is First cause."}
{"text": "howso-called positivism puts itself on the market these days, a disgust felt by the more discriminating taste at the fun-fair colors and flimsy scraps of all these reality-philosophasters who have nothing new and genuine about them except these colors. Here, I think, we should give these skeptical anti-realists and epistemo-microscopists their just due: the instinct that drives them away from modern reality is unassailable, - what do we care for their retrograde shortcut! The essential thing about them is not that they want to go 'back': but rather, that they want to get away . A bit more strength, flight, courage, artistry: and they would want to get up and out , - and not go back! -"}
{"text": "It seems to me that people everywhere these days are at pains to divert attention away from the real influence Kant exerted over German philosophy, and, in particular, wisely to overlook the value he attributed to himself. First and foremost, Kant was proud of his table of categories, and he said with this table in his hands: 'This is the hardest thing that ever could have been undertaken on behalf of metaphysics.' - But let us be clear about this 'could have been'! He was proud of having discovered a new faculty in humans, the faculty of synthetic judgments a priori .Of course he was deceiving himself here, but the development and rapid blossoming of German philosophy depended on this pride, and on the competitive zeal of the younger generation who wanted, if possible, to discover something even prouder - and in any event 'new faculties'! - But the time has come for us to think this over. How are synthetic judgments a priori possible ? Kant asked himself, - and what really was his answer? By virtue of a faculty , which is to say: enabled by an ability : unfortunately, though, not in these few words, but rather so laboriously, reverentially, and with such an extravagance of German frills and profundity that people failed to hear the comical niaiserie allemande in such an answer. In fact, people were beside themselves with joy over this new faculty, and the jubilation reached its peak when Kant discovered yet another faculty, a moral faculty: - because the Germans were still moral back then, and The reference in this section is to Kant's Kritik der reinen Vernunft ( Critique of Pure Reason )( , ). In German: Verm oge eines Verm ogens . German silliness."}
{"text": "very remote from Realpolitik . - The honeymoon of German philosophy had arrived; all the young theologians of the Tubingen seminary ran off into the bushes - they were all looking for 'faculties.' And what didn't they find - in that innocent, abundant, still youthful age of the German spirit, when Romanticism, that malicious fairy, whispered, whistled, and sang, when people did not know how to tell the difference between 'discovering' and 'inventing'! Above all, a faculty of the 'supersensible': Schelling christened it intellectual intuition, and thus gratified the heart's desire of his basically piety-craving Germans. We can do no greater injustice to this whole high-spirited and enthusiastic movement (which was just youthfulness, however boldly it might have clothed itself in gray and hoary concepts) than to take it seriously or especially to treat it with moral indignation. Enough, we grew up, - the dream faded away. There came a time when people scratched their heads: some still scratch them today. There had been dreamers: first and foremost - the old Kant. 'By virtue of a faculty' - he had said, or at least meant. But is that really - an answer? An explanation? Or instead just a repetition of the question? So how does opium cause sleep? 'By virtue of a faculty,' namely the virtus dormitiva - replies the doctor in Moli'ere, quia est in eo virtus dormitiva, cujus est natura sensus assoupire ."}
{"text": "But answers like this belong in comedy, and the time has finally come to replace the Kantian question 'How are synthetic judgments a priori possible?' with another question, 'Why is the belief in such judgments necessary ?' - to realize, in other words, that such judgments must be believed true for the purpose of preserving beings of our type; which is why these judgments could of course still be false ! Or, to be blunt, basic and clearer still: synthetic judgments a priori do not have 'to be possible' at all: we have no right to them, and in our mouths they are nothing but false judgments. It is only the belief in their truth that is necessary as a foreground belief and piece of visual evidence, belonging to the perspectival optics of life. - And, finally, to recall the enormous effect that 'the German philosophy' - its right to these quotation marks A reference to Hegel, H olderlin, and Schelling. In German: '' finden' und 'erfinden . ' ' 'Because there is a dormative virtue in it / whose nature is to put the senses to sleep.' From Moli`ere's Le Malade imaginaire ( The Hypochondriac )( ). Beyond Good and Evil is, I hope, understood? - has had all over Europe, a certain virtus dormitiva has undoubtedly had a role: the noble idlers, the virtuous, the mystics, artists, three-quarter-Christians, and political obscurantists of all nations were all delighted to have, thanks to German philosophy, an antidote to the still overpowering sensualism that was spilling over into this century from the previous one, in short - ' sensus assoupire ' ..."}
{"text": "As far as materialistic atomism goes: this is one of the most well-refuted things in existence. In Europe these days, nobody in the scholarly community is likely to be so unscholarly as to attach any real significance to it, except as a handy household tool (that is, as an abbreviated figure of speech). For this, we can thank that Pole, Boscovich, who, together with the Pole, Copernicus, was the greatest, most successful opponent of the visual evidence. While Copernicus convinced us to believe, contrary to all our senses, that the earth does not stand still, Boscovich taught us to renounce belief in the last bit of earth that did 'stand still,' the belief in 'matter,' in the 'material,' in the residual piece of earth and clump of an atom: it was the greatest triumph over the senses that the world had ever known. - But we must go further still and declare war-aruthless fight to the finish - on the 'atomistic need' that, like the more famous 'metaphysical need,' still leads a dangerous afterlife in regions where nobody would think to look. First of all, we must also put an end to that other and more disastrous atomism, the one Christianity has taught best and longest, the atomism of the soul . Let this expression signify the belief that the soul is something indestructible, eternal, indivisible, that it is a monad, an atomon : this belief must be thrown out of science! Between you and me, there is absolutely no need to give up 'the soul' itself, and relinquish one of the oldest and most venerable hypotheses - as often happens with naturalists: given their clumsiness, they barely need to touch 'the soul' to lose it. But the path lies open for new versions and sophistications of the soul hypothesis - and concepts like the 'mortal soul' and the 'soul as subject-multiplicity' and the 'soul as a society constructed out of drives and affects' want henceforth to have civil rights in the realm of science. Byputting an end to the superstition that until now has grown around the idea of the soul with an almost tropical luxuriance, the new psychologist clearly thrusts himself into a new wasteland and a new suspicion. The On the prejudices of philosophers"}
{"text": "old psychologists might have found things easier and more enjoyable -: but, in the end, the new psychologist knows by this very token that he is condemned to invention - and, who knows? perhaps to discovery . -"}
{"text": "Physiologists should think twice before positioning the drive for selfpreservation as the cardinal drive of an organic being. Above all, a living thing wants to discharge its strength - life itself is will to power -: selfpreservation is only one of the indirect and most frequent consequences of this. - In short, here as elsewhere, watch out for superfluous teleological principles! - such as the drive for preservation (which we owe to Spinoza's inconsistency -). This is demanded by method, which must essentially be the economy of principles."}
{"text": "Now it is beginning to dawn on maybe five or six brains that physics too is only an interpretation and arrangement of the world (according to ourselves! if I may say so) and not an explanation of the world. But to the extent that physics rests on belief in the senses, it passes for more, and will continue to pass for more, namely for an explanation, for a long time to come. It has our eyes and our fingers as its allies, it has visual evidence and tangibility as its allies. This helped it to enchant, persuade, convince an age with a basically plebeian taste - indeed, it instinctively follows the canon of truth of the eternally popular sensualism. What is plain, what 'explains'? Only what can be seen and felt, - this is as far as any problem has to be pursued. Conversely: the strong attraction of the Platonic way of thinking consisted in its opposition to precisely this empiricism. It was a noble way of thinking, suitable perhaps for people who enjoyed even stronger and more discriminating senses than our contemporaries, but who knew how to find a higher triumph in staying master over these senses. And they did this by throwing drab, cold, gray nets of concepts over the brightly colored whirlwind of the senses - the rabble of the senses, as Plato said. There was a type of enjoyment in overpowering Nietzsche is again making a pun by contrasting the terms Erfinden (invention) and Finden (discovery). Cf. Nomoi (Laws) a-b."}
{"text": "and interpreting the world in the manner of Plato, different from the enjoyment offered by today's physicists, or by the Darwinians and antiteleologists who work in physiology, with their principle of the 'smallest possible force' and greatest possible stupidity. 'Where man has nothing more to see and grasp, he has nothing more to do' - this imperative is certainly different from the Platonic one, but for a sturdy, industrious race of machinists and bridge-builders of the future, people with tough work to do, it just might be the right imperative for the job. Tostudy physiology with a good conscience, we must insist that the sense organs are not appearances in the way idealist philosophy uses that term: as such, they certainly could not be causes! Sensualism, therefore, at least as a regulative principle, if not as a heuristic principle. - What? and other people even say that the external world is the product of our organs? But then our body, as a piece of this external world, would really be the product of our organs! But then our organs themselves would really be - the product of our organs! This looks to me like a thorough reductio ad absurdum : given that the concept of a causa sui is something thoroughly absurd. So does it follow that the external world is not the product of our organs -? There are still harmless self-observers who believe in the existence of 'immediate certainties,' such as 'I think,' or the 'I will' that was Schopenhauer's superstition: just as if knowledge had been given an object here to seize, stark naked, as a 'thing-in-itself,' and no falsification took place from either the side of the subject or the side of the object. But I will say this a hundred times: 'immediate certainty,' like 'absolute knowledge' and the 'thing in itself ' contains a contradictio in adjecto. For once and for all, we should free ourselves from the seduction of words! Let the people believe that knowing means knowing to the very end; the philosopher has to say: 'When I dissect the process expressed in the proposition Reduction to an absurdity (contradiction). Cause of itself. Contradiction in terms. On the prejudices of philosophers"}
{"text": "'I think,' I get a whole set of bold claims that are difficult, perhaps impossible, to establish, - for instance, that I am the one who is thinking, that there must be something that is thinking in the first place, that thinking is an activity and the effect of a being who is considered the cause, that there is an 'I,' and finally, that it has already been determined what is meant by thinking, - that I know what thinking is. Because if I had not already made up my mind what thinking is, how could I tell whether what had just happened was not perhaps 'willing' or 'feeling'? Enough: this 'I think' presupposes that I compare my present state with other states that I have seen in myself, in order to determine what it is: and because of this retrospective comparison with other types of 'knowing,' this present state has absolutely no 'immediate certainty' for me.' - In place of that 'immediate certainty' which may, in this case, win the faith of the people, the philosopher gets handed a whole assortment of metaphysical questions, genuinely probing intellectual questions of conscience, such as: 'Where do I get the concept of thinking from? Why do I believe in causes and effects? What gives me the right to speak about an I, and, for that matter, about an I as cause, and, finally, about an I as the cause of thoughts?' Whoever dares to answer these metaphysical questions right away with an appeal to a sort of intuitive knowledge, like the person who says: 'I think and know that at least this is true, real, certain' - he will find the philosopher of today ready with a smile and two question-marks. 'My dear sir,' the philosopher will perhaps give him to understand, 'it is improbable that you are not mistaken: but why insist on the truth?' -"}
{"text": "As far as the superstitions of the logicians are concerned: I will not stop emphasizing a tiny little fact that these superstitious men are loath to admit: that a thought comes when 'it' wants, and not when 'I' want. It is, therefore, a falsification of the facts to say that the subject 'I' is the condition of the predicate 'think.' It thinks: but to say the 'it' is just that famous old 'I' - well that is just an assumption or opinion, to put it mildly, and by no means an 'immediate certainty.' In fact, there is already too much packed into the 'it thinks': even the 'it' contains an interpretation of the process, and does not belong to the process itself. People are following grammatical habits here in drawing conclusions, reasoning that 'thinking is an activity, behind every activity something is Beyond Good and Evil active, therefore -.' Following the same basic scheme, the older atomism looked behind every 'force' that produces effects for that little lump of matter in which the force resides, and out of which the effects are produced, which is to say: the atom. More rigorous minds finally learned how to make do without that bit of 'residual earth,' and perhaps one day even logicians will get used to making do without this little 'it' (into which the honest old I has disappeared)."}
{"text": "That a theory is refutable is, frankly, not the least of its charms: this is precisely how it attracts the more refined intellects. The theory of 'free will,' which has been refuted a hundred times, appears to owe its endurance to this charm alone -: somebody will always come along and feel strong enough to refute it. Philosophers tend to talk about the will as if it were the most familiar thing in the world. In fact, Schopenhauer would have us believe that the will is the only thing that is really familiar, familiar through and through, familiar without pluses or minuses. But I have always thought that, here too, Schopenhauer was only doing what philosophers always tend to do: adopting and exaggerating a popular prejudice . Willing strikes me as, above all, something complicated , something unified only in a word - and this single word contains the popular prejudice that has overruled whatever minimal precautions philosophers might take. So let us be more cautious, for once - let us be 'unphilosophical.' Let us say: in every act of willing there is, to begin with, a plurality of feelings, namely: the feeling of the state awayfromwhich , the feeling of the state towards which , and the feeling of this 'away from' and 'towards' themselves. But this is accompanied by a feeling of the muscles that comes into play through a sort of habit as soon as we 'will,' even without our putting 'arms and legs' into motion. Just as feeling - and indeed many feelings - must be recognized as ingredients of the will, thought must be as well. In every act of will there is a commandeering thought, - and we really should not believe this thought can be divorced from the 'willing,' as if some will would then be left over! Third, the will is not just a complex of feeling and On the prejudices of philosophers"}
{"text": "thinking; rather, it is fundamentally an affect : and specifically the affect of the command. What is called 'freedom of the will' is essentially the affect of superiority with respect to something that must obey: 'I am free, 'it' must obey' - this consciousness lies in every will, along with a certain straining of attention, a straight look that fixes on one thing and one thing only, an unconditional evaluation 'now this is necessary and nothing else,' an inner certainty that it will be obeyed, and whatever else comes with the position of the commander. A person who wills -, commands something inside himself that obeys, or that he believes to obey. But now we notice the strangest thing about the will - about this multifarious thing that people have only one word for. On the one hand, we are, under the circumstances, both the one who commands and the one who obeys, and as the obedient one we are familiar with the feelings of compulsion, force, pressure, resistance, and motion that generally start right after the act of willing. On the other hand, however, we are in the habit of ignoring and deceiving ourselves about this duality by means of the synthetic concept of the 'I.' As a result, a whole chain of erroneous conclusions, and, consequently, false evaluations have become attached to the will, - to such an extent that the one who wills believes, in good faith, that willing suffices for action. Since it is almost always the case that there is will only where the effect of command, and therefore obedience, and therefore action, may be expected , the appearance translates into the feeling, as if there were a necessity of effect . In short, the one who wills believes with a reasonable degree of certainty that will and action are somehow one; he attributes the success, the performance of the willing to the will itself, and consequently enjoys an increase in the feeling of power that accompanies all success. 'Freedom of the will' - that is the word for the multi-faceted state of pleasure of one who commands and, at the same time, identifies himself with the accomplished act of willing. As such, he enjoys the triumph over resistances, but thinks to himself that it was his will alone that truly overcame the resistance. Accordingly, the one who wills takes his feeling of pleasure as the commander, and adds to it the feelings of pleasure from the successful instruments that carry out the task, as well as from"}
{"text": "the useful 'under-wills' or under-souls - our body is, after all, only a society constructed out of many souls -. L'effet c'est moi : what happens here is what happens in every well-constructed and The effect is I. Beyond Good and Evil happy community: the ruling class identifies itself with the successes of the community.Allwilling is simply a matter of commanding and obeying, on the groundwork, as I have said, of a society constructed out of many 'souls': from which a philosopher should claim the right to understand willing itself within the framework of morality: morality understood as a doctrine of the power relations under which the phenomenon of 'life' arises. -"}
{"text": "That individual philosophical concepts are not arbitrary and do not grow up on their own, but rather grow in reference and relation to each other; that however suddenly and randomly they seem to emerge in the history of thought, they still belong to a system just as much as all the members of the fauna of a continent do: this is ultimately revealed by the certainty with which the most diverse philosophers will always fill out a definite basic scheme of possible philosophies. Under an invisible spell, they will each start out anew, only to end up revolving in the same orbit once again. Howeverindependent of each other they might feel themselves to be, with their critical or systematic wills, something inside of them drives them on, something leads them into a particular order, one after the other, and this something is precisely the innate systematicity and relationship of concepts. In fact, their thinking is not nearly as much a discovery as it is a recognition, remembrance, a returning and homecoming into a distant, primordial, total economy of the soul, from which each concept once grew: - to this extent, philosophizing is a type of atavism of the highest order. The strange family resemblance of all Indian, Greek, and German philosophizing speaks for itself clearly enough. Where there are linguistic affinities, then because of the common philosophy of grammar (I mean: due to the unconscious domination and direction through similar grammatical functions), it is obvious that everything lies ready from the very start for a similar development and sequence of philosophical systems; on the other hand, the way seems as good as blocked for certain other possibilities of interpreting the world. Philosophers of the Ural-Altaic language group (where the concept of the subject is the most poorly developed) are more likely to 'see the world' differently, and to be found on paths different from those taken by the Indo-Germans or Muslims: the spell of particular grammatical functions is in the last analysis the spell of On the prejudices of philosophers physiological value judgments and racial conditioning. - So much towards a rejection of Locke's superficiality with regard to the origin of ideas."}
{"text": "The causa sui is the best self-contradiction that has ever been conceived, a type of logical rape and abomination. But humanity's excessive pride has got itself profoundly and horribly entangled with precisely this piece of nonsense. The longing for 'freedom of the will' in the superlative metaphysical sense (which, unfortunately, still rules in the heads of the halfeducated), the longing to bear the entire and ultimate responsibility for your actions yourself and to relieve God, world, ancestors, chance, and society of the burden - all this means nothing less than being that very causa sui and, with a courage greater than Munchhausen's, pulling yourself by the hair from the swamp of nothingness up into existence. Suppose someone sees through the boorish naivet'e of this famous concept of 'free will' and manages to get it out of his mind; I would then ask him to carry his 'enlightenment' a step further and to rid his mind of the reversal of this misconceived concept of 'free will': I mean the 'un-free will,' which is basically an abuse of cause and effect. We should not erroneously objectify 'cause' and 'effect' like the natural scientists do (and whoever else thinks naturalistically these days -) in accordance with the dominant mechanistic stupidity which would have the cause push and shove until it 'effects' something; we should use 'cause' and 'effect' only as pure concepts , which is to say as conventional fictions for the purpose of description and communication, not explanation. In the 'in-itself ' there is nothing like 'causal association,' 'necessity,' or 'psychological un-freedom.' There, the 'effect' does not follow 'from the cause,' there is no rule of 'law.' We are the ones who invented causation, succession, for-each-other, relativity, compulsion, numbers, law, freedom, grounds, purpose; and if we project and inscribe this symbol world onto things as an 'in-itself,' then this is the way we have always done things, namely mythologically . The 'un-free will' is mythology; in real life it is only a matter of strong and weak wills. It is almost always a symptom of what is lacking in a thinker when he senses some compulsion, need, having-to-follow, pressure, unfreedom in every 'causal connection' and 'psychological"}
{"text": "necessity.' It is Cause of itself. Beyond Good and Evil very telling to feel this way - the person tells on himself. And in general, if I have observed correctly, 'un-freedom of the will' is regarded as a problem by two completely opposed parties, but always in a profoundly personal manner. The one party would never dream of relinquishing their 'responsibility,' a belief in themselves , a personal right to their own merit (the vain races belong to this group -). Those in the other party, on the contrary, do not want to be responsible for anything or to be guilty of anything; driven by an inner self-contempt, they long to be able to shift the blame for themselves to something else. When they write books these days, this latter group tends to side with the criminal; a type of socialist pity is their most attractive disguise. And, in fact, the fatalism of the weak of will starts to look surprisingly attractive when it can present itself as ' la religion de la souffrance humaine ': this is its 'good taste.'"}
{"text": "You must forgive an old philologist like me who cannot help maliciously putting his finger on bad tricks of interpretation: but this 'conformity of nature to law,' which you physicists are so proud of, just as if - - exists only because of your interpretation and bad 'philology.' It is not a matter of fact, not a 'text,' but instead only a naive humanitarian correction and a distortion of meaning that you use in order to comfortably accommodate the democratic instincts of the modern soul! 'Everywhere, equality before the law, - in this respect, nature is no different and no better off than we are': a lovely case of ulterior motivation; and it serves once more to disguise the plebeian antagonism against all privilege and autocracy together with a second and more refined atheism. ' Ni dieu, ni matre ' -you want this too: and therefore 'hurray for the laws of nature!' - right? But, as I have said, this is interpretation, not text; and somebody with an opposite intention and mode of interpretation could come along and be able to read from the same nature, and with reference to the same set of appearances,atyrannicallyruthlessandpitilessexecutionofpowerclaims. This sort of interpreter would show the unequivocal and unconditional nature of all 'will to power' so vividly and graphically that almost every word, and even the word 'tyranny,' would ultimately seem useless or like weakening and mollifying metaphors - and too humanizing. Yet this The religion of human suffering. Neither God nor master."}
{"text": "interpreter might nevertheless end up claiming the same thing about this world as you, namely that it follows a 'necessary' and 'calculable' course, although not because laws are dominant in it, but rather because laws are totally absent , and every power draws its final consequences at every moment. Granted, this is only an interpretation too - and you will be eager enough to make this objection? - well then, so much the better."}
{"text": "All psychology so far has been stuck in moral prejudices and fears: it has not ventured into the depths. To grasp psychology as morphology and the doctrine of the development of the will to power , which is what I have done - nobody has ever come close to this, not even in thought: this, of course, to the extent that we are permitted to regard what has been written so far as a symptom of what has not been said until now. The power of moral prejudice has deeply affected the most spiritual world, which seems like the coldest world, the one most likely to be devoid of any presuppositions - and the effect has been manifestly harmful, hindering, dazzling, and distorting. A genuine physio-psychology has to contend with unconscious resistances in the heart of the researcher, it has 'the heart' against it. Even a doctrine of the reciprocal dependence of the 'good' and the 'bad' drives will (as a refined immorality) cause distress and aversion in a strong and sturdy conscience - as will, to an even greater extent, a doctrine of the derivation of all the good drives from the bad. But suppose somebody considers even the affects of hatred, envy, greed, and power-lust as the conditioning affects of life, as elements that fundamentally and essentially need to be present in the total economy of life, and consequently need to be enhanced where life is enhanced, - this person will suffer from such a train of thought as if from sea-sickness. Andyeteventhishypothesis is far from being the most uncomfortable and unfamiliar in this enormous, practically untouched realm of dangerous knowledge: - and there are hundreds of good reasons for people to keep out of it, if they can ! On the other hand, if you are ever cast loose here with your ship, well now! come on! clench your teeth! open your eyes! and grab hold of the helm! - we are sailing straight over and away from morality; we are crushing and perhaps destroying the remnants of our own morality by daring to travel there - but what do we matter! Never before have intrepid voyagers and adventurers opened up a more"}
{"text": "profound world of insight: and the psychologist who 'makes sacrifices' (they are not the sacrifizio dell'intelletto - to the contrary!) can at least demand in return that psychology again be recognized as queen of the sciences, and that the rest of the sciences exist to serve and prepare for it. Because, from now on, psychology is again the path to the fundamental problems. Sacrifice of the intellect. In German: Wissenschaften . Wissenschaft has generally been translated as 'science' throughout the text, but the German term is broader than the English, and includes the humanities as well as the natural and social sciences."}
{"text": "Osancta simplicitas ! Whatastrangesimplification and falsification people live in! The wonders never cease, for those who devote their eyes to such wondering. How we have made everything around us so bright and easy and free and simple! How we have given our senses a carte blanche for everything superficial, given our thoughts a divine craving for high-spirited leaps and false inferences! - How we have known from the start to hold on to our ignorance in order to enjoy a barely comprehensible freedom, thoughtlessness, recklessness, bravery, and joy in life; to delight in life itself! And, until now, science could arise only on this solidified, granite foundation of ignorance, the will to know rising up on the foundation of a much more powerful will, the will to not know, to uncertainty, to untruth! Not as its opposite, but rather - as its refinement! Even when language , here as elsewhere, cannot get over its crassness and keeps talking about opposites where there are only degrees and multiple, subtle shades of gradation; even when the ingrained tartuffery of morals (which is now part of our 'flesh and blood,' and cannot be overcome) twists the words in our mouths (we who should know better); now and then we still realize what is happening, and laugh about how it is precisely the best science that will best know how to keep us in this simplified , utterly artificial, In German: der freie Geist . I have generally rendered Geist and words using Geist (such as geistig , Geistigkeit ) as 'spirit' and words using spirit (so: spiritual and spirituality). However, Geist is a broader term than spirit, meaning mind or intellect as well. Oholy simplicity. Beyond Good and Evil well-invented, well-falsified world, how unwillingly willing science loves error because, being alive, - it loves life!"}
{"text": "After such a joyful entrance, there is a serious word that I want heard; it is intended for those who are most serious. Stand tall, you philosophers and friends of knowledge, and beware of martyrdom! Of suffering 'for the sake of truth'! Even of defending yourselves! You will ruin the innocence and fine objectivity of your conscience, you will be stubborn towards objections and red rags, you will become stupid, brutish, bullish if, while fighting against danger, viciousness, suspicion, ostracism, and even nastier consequences of animosity, you also have to pose as the worldwide defenders of truth. As if 'the Truth' were such a harmless and bungling little thing that she needed defenders! And you of all people, her Knights of the Most Sorrowful Countenance, my Lord Slacker and Lord Webweaver of the Spirit! In the end, you know very well that it does not matter whether you , of all people, are proved right, and furthermore, that no philosopher so far has ever been proved right. You also know that every little question-mark you put after your special slogans and favorite doctrines (and occasionally after yourselves) might contain more truth than all the solemn gestures and trump cards laid before accusers and courts of law! So step aside instead! Run away and hide! And be sure to have your masks and your finesse so people will mistake you for something else, or be a bit scared of you! And do not forget the garden, the garden with golden trelliswork! And have people around you who are like a garden, - or like music over the waters when evening sets and the day is just a memory. Choose the good solitude, the free, high-spirited, light-hearted solitude that, in some sense, gives you the right to stay good yourself! How poisonous, how cunning, how bad you become in every long war that cannot be waged out in the open! How personal you become when you have been afraid for a long time, keeping your eye on enemies, on possible enemies! These outcasts of society (the long-persecuted, the badly harassed, as well as those forced to become hermits, the Spinozas or Giordano Brunos): they may work under a spiritual guise, and might not even know what they are doing, but they will always end up subtly seeking A reference to Miguel de Cervantes' Don Quixote ( )."}
{"text": "vengeance and mixing their poisons ( just try digging up the foundation of Spinoza's ethics and theology!). Not to mention the absurd spectacle of moral indignation, which is an unmistakable sign that a philosopher has lost his philosophical sense of humor. The philosopher's martyrdom, his 'self-sacrifice for the truth,' brings to light the agitator and actor in him; and since we have only ever regarded him with artistic curiosity, it is easy to understand the dangerous wish to see many of these philosophers in their degeneration for once (degenerated into 'martyrs' or loud-mouths on their stage or soap-box). It's just that, with this sort of wish we have to be clear about what we will be seeing: - only a satyr-play, only a satirical epilogue, only the continuing proof that the long, real tragedy has come to an end (assuming that every philosophy was originally a long tragedy - )."}
{"text": "Every choice human being strives instinctively for a citadel and secrecy where he is rescued from the crowds, the many, the vast majority; where, as the exception, he can forget the human norm. The only exception is when he is driven straight towards this norm by an even stronger instinct, in search of knowledge in the great and exceptional sense. Anybody who, in dealing with people, does not occasionally glisten in all the shades of distress, green and gray with disgust, weariness, pity, gloominess, and loneliness - he is certainly not a person of higher taste. But if he does not freely take on all this effort and pain, if he keeps avoiding it and remains, as I said, placid and proud and hidden in his citadel, well then one thing is certain: he is not made for knowledge, not predestined for it. Because if he were, he would eventually have to say to himself: 'To hell with good taste! The norm is more interesting than the exception - than me, the exception!' - and he would wend his way downwards , and, above all, 'inwards.' The long and serious study of the average manrequires a great deal of disguise, self-overcoming, confidentiality, bad company (all company is bad company except with your equals); still, this is all a necessary part of the life story of every philosopher, perhaps the least pleasant, most foul-smelling part and the one richest in disappointments. But if he is lucky, as befits knowledge's child of fortune, the philosopher will find real shortcuts and aids to make his work easier. I mean he will find so-called cynics - people who easily recognize the animal, the commonplace, the 'norm' within themselves, and yet still have a degree of spiritedness and Beyond Good and Evil"}
{"text": "an urge to talk about themselves and their peers in front of witnesses :-sometimes they even wallow in books as if in their own filth. Cynicism is the only form in which base souls touch upon that thing which is genuine honesty. And the higher man needs to open his ears to all cynicism, crude or refined, and congratulate himself every time the buffoon speaks up without shame, or the scientific satyr is heard right in front of him. There are even cases where enchantment mixes with disgust: namely, where genius, by a whim of nature, is tied to some indiscreet billy-goat and ape, like the Abb'e Galiani, the most profound, discerning, and perhaps also the filthiest man of his century. He was much more profound than Voltaire, and consequently a lot quieter. But, as I have already suggested, what happens more often is that the scientific head is placed on an ape's body, a more subtle and exceptional understanding is put in a base soul. This is not a rare phenomenon, particularly among physicians and physiologists of morals. And wherever even one person is speaking about man without any bitterness but instead quite innocuously, describing him as a stomach with dual needs and a head with one; wherever someone sees and seeks and wants to see only hunger, sex-drive and vanity, as if these were the sole and genuine motivating forces of human action; in short, wherever somebody is speaking 'badly' of people - and not even wickedly - this is wherethelover of knowledge should listen with subtle and studious attention. He should keep his ears open wherever people are speaking without anger. Because the angry man, and anyone who is constantly tearing and shredding himself with his own teeth (or, in place of himself, the world, or God, or society), may very well stand higher than the laughing and selfsatisfied satyr, considered morally. But considered in any other way, he is the more ordinary, more indifferent, less instructive case. And nobody lies as much as the angry man. -"}
{"text": "It is hard to be understood, particularly when you think and live gangasrotogati amongpeople who think and live differently, namely kurmagati or at best 'walking like frogs,' mandeikagati (am I doing everything I can to be hard to understand myself?), and you should give heartfelt thanks for Sanskrit for 'as the current of the [river] Ganges moves.' Sanskrit for 'as the tortoise moves.' the goodwill apparent in any subtlety of interpretation. But as far as 'good friends' are concerned, they are always too easy-going and think that they have a right to be easy-going, just because they are friends. So it is best to grant them some leeway from the very start, and leave some latitude for misunderstandings: - and then you can even laugh. Or, alternatively, get rid of them altogether, these good friends, - and then laugh some more!"}
{"text": "The hardest thing to translate from one language into another is the tempo of its style, which is grounded in the character of the race, or - to be more physiological - in the average tempo of its 'metabolism.' There are well-meaning interpretations that are practically falsifications; they involuntarily debase the original, simply because it has a tempo that cannot be translated - a tempo that is brave and cheerful and leaps over and out of every danger in things and in words. Germans are almost incapable of a presto in their language: and so it is easy to see that they are incapable of many of the most delightful and daring nuances of free, free-spirited thought. Since the buffo and the satyr are alien to the German in body and in conscience, Aristophanes and Petronius are as good as untranslatable. Everythingponderous,lumbering,solemnlyawkward,everylong-winded and boring type of style is developed by the Germans in over-abundant diversity. Forgive me for pointing out that even Goethe's prose, with its mixture of the stiff and the delicate, is no exception; it is both a reflection of the 'good old days' to which it belonged and an expression of the Germantaste back when there still was a 'German taste': it was a Rococo taste, in moribus et artibus . Lessing is an exception, thanks to his actor's nature that understood and excelled at so much. He was not the translator of Bayle for nothing; he gladly took refuge in the company of Diderot and Voltaire, and still more gladly among the Roman writers of comedy. Even in tempo, Lessing loved free-thinking and the escape from Germany. But how could the German language - even in the prose of a Lessing imitate Machiavelli's tempo - Machiavelli who, in his Principe , lets us breathe the fine, dry air of Florence? He cannot help presenting the most serious concerns in a boisterous allegrissimo , and is, perhaps, not without In customs and arts. In German: Freigeisterei . Il Principe ( The Prince )( ). Beyond Good and Evil"}
{"text": "a malicious, artistic sense for the contrast he is risking: thoughts that are long, hard, tough, and dangerous, and a galloping tempo and the very best and most mischievous mood. Who, finally, would dare to translate Petronius into German, a man who, more than any great musician so far, wasthemasterofthe presto in inventions, ideas, and words. What do all the swamps of the sick and wicked world - even the 'ancient world' - matter in the end for someone like him, with feet of wind, with the breath and the force and the liberating scorn of a wind that makes everything healthy by making everything run ! And as for Aristophanes, that transfiguring, complementaryspiritforwhosesakewecan forgive the whole Greek world for existing (as long as we have realized in full depth and profundity what needs to be forgiven and transfigured here): - nothing I know has given me a better vision of Plato's secrecy and Sphinx nature than that happily preserved petit fait : under the pillow of his deathbed they did not find a 'Bible' or anything Egyptian, Pythagorean, or Platonic - but instead, Aristophanes. How would even a Plato have endured life - a Greek life that he said No to - without an Aristophanes! - Independenceisanissuethatconcernsveryfewpeople:-itisaprerogative of the strong. And even when somebody has every right to be independent, if he attempts such a thing without having to do so, he proves that he is probably not only strong, but brave to the point of madness. He enters a labyrinth, he multiplies by a thousand the dangers already inherent in the very act of living, not the least of which is the fact that no one with eyes will see how and where he gets lost and lonely and is torn limb from limb by some cave-Minotaur of conscience. And assuming a man like this is destroyed, it is an event so far from human comprehension that people do not feel it or feel for him: - and he cannot go back again! He cannot go back to their pity again! - - Our highest insights must - and should! - sound like stupidities, or possibly crimes, when they come without permission to people whose ears have Little fact."}
{"text": "no affinity for them and were not predestined for them. The distinction between the exoteric and the esoteric, once made by philosophers, was found among the Indians as well as among Greeks, Persians, and Muslims. Basically, it was found everywhere that people believed in an order of rank and not in equality and equal rights. The difference between these terms is not that the exoteric stands outside and sees, values, measures, and judges from this external position rather than from some internal one. What is more essential is that the exoteric sees things up from below - while the esoteric sees them down from above! There are heights of the soul from whose vantage point even tragedy stops having tragic effects; and who would dare to decide whether the collective sight of the world's many woes would necessarily compel and seduce us into a feeling of pity, a feeling that would only serve to double these woes? ... What helps feed or nourish the higher type of man must be almost poisonous to a very different and lesser type. The virtues of a base man could indicate vices and weaknesses in a philosopher. If a higher type of man were to degenerate and be destroyed, this very destruction could give him the qualities needed to make people honor him as a saint down in the lower realm where he has sunk. There are books that have inverse values for soul and for health, depending on whether they are used by the lower souls and lowlier life-forces, or by the higher and more powerful ones. In the first case, these books are dangerous and cause deterioration and dissolution; in the second case, they are the heralds' calls that summon the most courageous to their courage. Books for the general public always smell foul: the stench of petty people clings to them. It usually stinks in places where the people eat and drink, even where they worship. You should not go to church if you want to breath clean air. - - When people are young, they admire and despise without any of that art of nuance which is life's greatest reward; so it is only fair that they will come to pay dearly for having assaulted people and things like this, with a Yes and a No. Everything is set up so that the worst possible taste, the In German: nicht daf ur geartet . The term geartet is related to the German word Art (type), which appears frequently in this section as well as throughout the text."}
{"text": "In German: dass er entartete ."}
{"text": "taste for the unconditional, gets cruelly and foolishly abused until people learn to put some art into their feelings, and prefer the risk they run with artifice, just like real artists of life do. It seems as if the wrath and reverence that characterize youth will not rest easy until they have falsified people and things thoroughly enough to be able to vent themselves on these targets. Youth is itself intrinsically falsifying and deceitful. Later, after the young soul has been tortured by constant disappointments, it ends up turning suspiciously on itself, still raging and wild, even in the force of its suspicion and the pangs of its conscience. How furious it is with itself now, how impatiently it tears itself apart, what revenge it exacts for having blinded itself for so long, as if its blindness had been voluntary! In this transitional state, we punish ourselves by distrusting our feelings, we torture our enthusiasm with doubts, we experience even a good conscience as a danger, as if it were a veil wrapped around us, something marking the depletion of a more subtle, genuine honesty. And, above all, we become partisan, partisan on principle against 'youth.' - A decade later, we realize that all this - was youthfulness too!"}
{"text": "Duringthelongestepochofhumanhistory(whichiscalledtheprehistoric age) an action's value or lack of value was derived from its consequences; the action itself was taken as little into account as its origin. Instead, the situation was something like that of present-day China, where the honor or dishonor of a child reflects back on the parents. In the same way, it was the retroactive force of success or failure that showed people whether to think of an action as good or bad. We can call this period the pre-moral period of humanity. At that point, the imperative 'knowthyself!' was still unknown. By contrast, over the course of the last ten millennia, people across a large part of the earth have gradually come far enough to see the origin, not the consequence, as decisive for the value of an action. By and large, this was a great event, a considerable refinement of outlook and criterion, an unconscious after-effect of the dominance of aristocratic values and the belief in 'origin,' and the sign of a period that we can signify as moral in a narrow sense. This marks the first attempt at self-knowledge. Origin rather than consequence: what a reversal of perspective! And, certainly, this reversal was only accomplished after long struggles and fluctuations! Granted: this meant that a disastrous"}
{"text": "new superstition, a distinctive narrowness of interpretation gained dominance. The origin of the action was interpreted in the most determinate sense possible, as origin out of an intention . People were united in the belief that the value of an action was exhausted by the value of its intention. Intention as the entire origin and prehistory of an action: under this prejudice people have issued moral praise, censure, judgment, and philosophyalmosttothisday.-Buttoday,thankstoarenewedself-contemplation and deepening of humanity, shouldn't we be facing a renewed necessity to effect a reversal and fundamental displacement of values? Shouldn't we be standing on the threshold of a period that would be designated, negatively at first, as extra-moral ? Today, when we immoralists, at least, suspect that the decisive value is conferred by what is specifically unintentional about an action, and that all its intentionality, everything about it that can be seen, known, or raised to 'conscious awareness,' only belongs to its surface and skin - which, like every skin, reveals something but conceals even more? In short, we believe that the intention is only a sign and symptom that first needs to be interpreted, and that, moreover, it is a sign that means too many things and consequently means almost nothing by itself. We believe that morality in the sense it has had up to now (the morality of intentions) was a prejudice, a precipitousness, perhaps a preliminary, a thing on about the same level as astrology and alchemy, but in any case something that must be overcome. The overcoming of morality - even the self-overcoming of morality, in a certain sense: let this be the name for that long and secret labor which is reserved for the most subtle, genuinely honest, and also the most malicious consciences of the day, who are living touchstones of the soul. -"}
{"text": "There is nothing else to be done: the feelings of utter devotion, of sacrifice for your neighbor, and the entire morality of self-abnegation have to be mercilessly taken to court and made to account for themselves. And the same holds for the aesthetic of 'disinterested contemplation,' the seductive guise under which the castration of art is presently trying to create a good conscience for itself. These feelings of 'for others,' of ' not for myself,' contain far too much sugar and sorcery for us not to need to become doubly suspicious here and ask: 'Aren't these perhaps seductions ?' To say that these feelings are pleasing (for the one who has Beyond Good and Evil them, for the one who enjoys their fruits, and even for the mere onlooker) is not yet an argument in their favor , but rather constitutes a demand for caution. So let us be cautious!"}
{"text": "It does not matter what philosophical standpoint you might take these days: any way you look at it, the erroneousness of the world we think we live in is the most certain and solid fact that our eyes can still grab hold of. We find reason after reason for it, reasons that might lure us into speculations about a deceptive principle in 'the essence of things.' But anyone who makes thinking itself (and therefore 'the spirit') responsible for the falseness of the world (an honorable way out, taken by every conscious or unconscious advocatus dei ), anyone who considers this world, together with space, time, form, and motion, to be falsely inferred - such a person would at the very least have ample cause to grow suspicious of thinking altogether. Hasn't it played the biggest joke on us to date? And what guarantee would there be that it wouldn't keep doing what it has always done? In all seriousness, there is something touching and awe-inspiring about the innocence that, to this day, lets a thinker place himself in front of consciousness with the request that it please give him honest answers: for example, whether or not it is 'real,' and why it so resolutely keeps the external world at arm's length, and other questions like that. The belief in 'immediate certainties' is a moral naivet'e that does credit to us philosophers: but - we should stop being 'merely moral,' for once! Aside from morality, the belief in immediate certainties is a stupidity that does us little credit! In bourgeois life, a suspicious disposition might be a sign of 'bad character' and consequently considered unwise. But here with us, beyond the bourgeois sphere with its Yeses and Noes, - what is to stop us from being unwise and saying: 'As the creature who has been the biggest dupe the earth has ever seen, the philosopher pretty much has a right to a 'bad character.' It is his duty to be suspicious these days, to squint as maliciously as possible out of every abyss of mistrust.' - Forgive me for playing jokes with this gloomy grimace and expression: because when it comes to betrayal and being betrayed, I myself learned a long time ago to think differently and evaluate differently; and my elbow is ready with at Advocate of God (as opposed to the devil's advocate)."}
{"text": "least a couple of nudges for the blind rage of philosophers as they struggle not to be betrayed. Why not ? It is no more than a moral prejudice that the truth is worth more than appearance; in fact, it is the world's most poorly proven assumption. Let us admit this much: that life could not exist except on the basis of perspectival valuations and appearances; and if, with the virtuous enthusiasm and inanity of many philosophers, someone wanted to completely abolish the 'world of appearances,' - well, assuming you could do that, - at least there would not be any of your 'truth' left either! Actually, why do we even assume that 'true' and 'false' are intrinsically opposed? Isn't it enough to assume that there are levels of appearance and, as it were, lighter and darker shades and tones of appearance - different valeurs , to use the language of painters? Why shouldn't the world that is relevant to us - be a fiction? And if someone asks: 'But doesn't fiction belong with an author?' - couldn't we shoot back: ' Why? Doesn't this 'belonging' belong, perhaps, to fiction as well? Aren't we allowed to be a bit ironic with the subject, as we are with the predicate and object? Shouldn't philosophers rise above the belief in grammar? With all due respect to governesses, isn't it about time philosophy renounced governess-beliefs?' - O Voltaire! O humanity! O nonsense! There is something to 'truth,' to the search for truth; and when a human being is too humane about it when ' il ne cherche le vrai que pour faire le bien ' - I bet he won't find anything! Assuming that our world of desires and passions is the only thing 'given' as real, that we cannot get down or up to any 'reality' except the reality of our drives (since thinking is only a relation between these drives) - aren't we allowed to make the attempt and pose the question as to whether something like this 'given' isn't enough to render the so-called mechanistic (and thus material) world comprehensible as well? I do not mean comprehensible as a deception, a 'mere appearance,' a 'representation' Values. 'He looks for truth only to do good.' Beyond Good and Evil"}
{"text": "(in the sense of Berkeley and Schopenhauer); I mean it might allow us to understand the mechanistic world as belonging to the same plane of reality as our affects themselves -, as a primitive form of the world of affect, where everything is contained in a powerful unity before branching off and organizing itself in the organic process (and, of course, being softened and weakened -). We would be able to understand the mechanistic world as a kind of life of the drives, where all the organic functions (self-regulation, assimilation, nutrition, excretion, and metabolism) are still synthetically bound together - as a pre-form of life? - In the end, we are not only allowed to make such an attempt: the conscience of method demands it. Multiple varieties of causation should not be postulated until the attempt to make do with a single one has been taken as far as it will go (ad absurdum , if you will). This is a moral of method that cannot be escaped these days; - it follows 'from the definition,' as a mathematician would say. The question is ultimately whether we recognize the will as, in effect, efficacious , whether we believe in the causality of the will. If we do (and this belief is really just our belief in causality itself -), then we must make the attempt to hypothetically posit the causality of the will as the only type of causality there is. 'Will' can naturally have effects only on 'will' - and not on 'matter' (not on 'nerves' for instance -). Enough: wemustventure the hypothesis that everywhere 'effects' are recognized, will is effecting will - and that every mechanistic event in which a force is active is really a force and effect of the will. - Assuming, finally, that we succeeded in explaining our entire life of drives as the organization and outgrowth of one basic form of will (namely, of the will to power, which is my claim); assuming we could trace all organic functions back to this will to power and find that it even solved the problem of procreation and nutrition (which is a single problem); then we will have earned the right to clearly designate all efficacious force as: will to power . The world seen from inside, the world determined and described with respect to its 'intelligible character' - would be just this 'will to"}
{"text": "power' and nothing else. - 'What? Doesn't that mean, to use a popular idiom: God is refuted but the devil is not - ?' On the contrary! On the contrary, my friends! And who the devil is forcing you to use popular idioms! -"}
{"text": "This is what has finally happened, in the bright light of more recent times, to the French Revolution, that gruesome and (on close consideration) pointless farce: noble and enthusiastic spectators across Europe have, from a distance, interpreted their own indignations and enthusiasms into it, and for so long and with such passion that the text has finally disappeared under the interpretation . In the same way, a noble posterity could again misunderstand the entire past, and in so doing, perhaps, begin to make it tolerable to look at. - Or rather: hasn't this happened already? weren't we ourselves this 'noble posterity'? And right now, since we're realizing this to be the case - hasn't it stopped being so? No one would consider a doctrine to be true just because it makes people happy or virtuous, with the possible exception of the darling 'Idealists,' who wax enthusiastic over the Good, the True, and the Beautiful, and let all sorts of colorful, clumsy, and good-natured desiderata swim through their pond in utter confusion. Happiness and virtue are not arguments. Butweliketoforget(eventhoughtfulspiritslike to forget) that being made unhappy and evil are not counter-arguments either. Something could be true even if it is harmful and dangerous to the highest degree. It could even be part of the fundamental character of existence that people with complete knowledge get destroyed, - so that the strength of a spirit would be proportionate to how much of the 'truth' he could withstand - or, to put it more clearly, to what extent he needs it to be thinned out, veiled over, sweetened up, dumbed down, and lied about. But there is no doubt that when it comes to discovering certain aspects of the truth, people who are evil and unhappy are more fortunate and have a greater probability of success (not to mention those who are both evil and happy - a species that the moralists don't discuss). Perhaps harshness and cunning provide more favorable conditions for the origin of the strong, independent spirit and philosopher than that gentle, fine, yielding good nature and art of taking things lightly that people value, and value rightly, in a scholar. Assuming first of all that we do not limit our notion of the 'philosopher' to the philosophers who write books - or put their own philosophy into books! - One last feature for the picture of the free-spirited philosopher"}
{"text": "Beyond Good and Evil is provided by Stendhal; and for the sake of the German taste, I will not overlook the chance to underscore this character - since it goes against the Germantaste. ' Pour etre bon philosophe ,' says this last, great psychologist, ' il faut etre sec, clair, sans illusion. Un banquier, qui a fait fortune, a une partie du caract'ere requis pour faire des d'ecouvertes en philosophie, c'est-'a-dire pour voir clair dans ce qui est .' Everything profound loves masks; the most profound things go so far as to hate images and likenesses. Wouldn't just the opposite be a proper disguise for the shame of a god? A questionable question: it would be odd if some mystic hadn't already risked something similar himself. There are events that are so delicate that it is best to cover them up with some coarseness and make them unrecognizable. There are acts of love and extravagant generosity in whose aftermath nothing is more advisable than to take a stick and give the eye-witnesses a good beating: this will obscure any memory traces. Many people are excellent at obscuring and abusing their own memory, so they can take revenge on at least this one accessory: shame is highly resourceful. It is not the worst things that we are the most ashamed of. Malicious cunning is not the only thing behind a mask there is so much goodness in cunning. I could imagine that a man with something precious and vulnerable to hide would roll through life, rough and round like an old, green, heavy-hooped wine cask; the subtlety of his shame will want it this way. A man with something profound in his shame encounters even his fate and delicate decisions along paths that few people have ever found, paths whose existence must be concealed from his closest and most trusted friends. His mortal danger is hidden from their eyes, and so is his regained sense of confidence in life. Somebody hidden in this way - who instinctively needs speech in order to be silent and concealed, and is tireless in evading communication wants and encourages a mask of himself to wander around, in his place, through the hearts and heads of his friends. And even if this is not what he wants, he will eventually realize that a mask of him has been there all the same, - and that this is for the best."}
{"text": "'To be a good philosopher you have to be dry, clear, and without illusions. A banker who has made a fortune has to a certain degree the right sort of character for making philosophical discoveries, i.e. for seeing clearly into what is.' From Stendhal's Correspondance in edite ( Unedited Correspondence )( )."}
{"text": "Every profound spirit needs a mask: what's more, a mask is constantly growing around every profound spirit, thanks to the consistently false (which is to say shallow ) interpretation of every word, every step, every sign of life he displays. - Wehaveto test ourselves to see whether we are destined for independence and command, and we have to do it at the right time. We should not sidestep our tests, even though they may well be the most dangerous game we can play, and, in the last analysis, can be witnessed by no judge other than ourselves. Not to be stuck to any person, not even somebody we love best - every person is a prison and a corner. Not to be stuck in any homeland, even the neediest and most oppressed - it is not as hard to tear your heart away from a victorious homeland. Not to be stuck in some pity: even for higher men, whose rare torture and helplessness we ourselves have accidentally glimpsed. Not to be stuck in some field of study: however much it tempts us with priceless discoveries, reserved, it seems, for us alone. Not to be stuck in our own detachment, in the ecstasy of those foreign vistas where birds keep flying higher so that they can keep seeing more below them: - the danger of those who fly. Not to be stuck to our own virtues and let our whole self be sacrificed for some one of our details, our 'hospitality,' for instance: this is the danger of dangers for rich souls of a higher type, who spend themselves extravagantly, almost indifferently, pushing the virtue of liberality to the point of vice. We must know to conserve ourselves : the greatest test of independence. A new breed of philosophers is approaching. I will risk christening them with a name not lacking in dangers. From what I can guess about them, from what they allow to be guessed (since it is typical of them to want to remain riddles in some respect), these philosophers of the future might have the right (and perhaps also the wrong) to be described as those who attempt . Ultimately, this name is itself only an attempt, and, if you will, a temptation. In German: Versucher . Nietzsche frequently uses the terms Versuch (attempt or experiment) and Versuchung (temptation), and plays on their similarity. Beyond Good and Evil"}
{"text": "Are they new friends of 'truth,' these upcoming philosophers? Probably, since all philosophers so far have loved their truths. But they certainly will not be dogmatists. It would offend their pride, as well as their taste, if their truth were a truth for everyone (which has been the secret wish and hidden meaning of all dogmatic aspirations so far). 'My judgment is my judgment: other people don't have an obvious right to it too' - perhaps this is what such a philosopher of the future will say. We must do away with the bad taste of wanting to be in agreement with the majority. 'Good' is no longer good when it comes from your neighbor's mouth. And how could there ever be a 'common good'! The term is self-contradictory: whatever can be common will never have much value. In the end, it has to be as it is and has always been: great things are left for the great, abysses for the profound, delicacy and trembling for the subtle, and, all in all, everything rare for those who are rare themselves. -"}
{"text": "After all this, do I really need to add that they will be free, very free spirits, these philosophers of the future - and that they certainly will not just be free spirits, but rather something more, higher, greater, and fundamentally different, something that does not want to be misunderstood or mistaken for anything else? But, in saying this, I feel - towards them almostasmuchastowardsourselves(whoaretheirheraldsandprecursors, we free spirits!) - an obligation to sweep away a stupid old prejudice and misunderstanding about all of us that has hung like a fog around the concept of the 'free spirit' for far too long, leaving it completely opaque. In all the countries of Europe, and in America as well, there is now something that abuses this name: a very narrow, restricted, chainedup type of spirit whose inclinations are pretty much the opposite of our own intentions and instincts (not to mention the fact that this restricted type will be a fully shut window and bolted door with respect to these approaching new philosophers). In a word (but a bad one): they belong to the levelers , these misnamed 'free spirits' - as eloquent and prolifically scribbling slaves of the democratic taste and its 'modern ideas.' They are all people without solitude, without their own solitude, clumsy, solid folks whose courage and honest decency cannot be denied - it's just that they are un-free and ridiculously superficial, particularly given their basic"}
{"text": "tendency to think that all human misery and wrongdoing is caused by traditional social structures: which lands truth happily on its head! What they want to strive for with all their might is the universal, green pasture happiness of the herd, with security, safety, contentment, and an easier life for all. Their two most well-sung songs and doctrines are called: 'equal rights' and 'sympathy for all that suffers' - and they view suffering itself as something that needs to be abolished . We, who are quite the reverse, have kept an eye and a conscience open to the question of where and how the plant 'man' has grown the strongest, and we think that this has always happened under conditions that are quite the reverse. We think that the danger of the human condition has first had to grow to terrible heights, its power to invent and dissimulate (its 'spirit' -) has had to develop under prolonged pressure and compulsion into something refined and daring, its life-will has had to be intensified to an unconditional powerwill. We think that harshness, violence, slavery, danger in the streets and in the heart, concealment, Stoicism, the art of experiment, and devilry of every sort; that everything evil, terrible, tyrannical, predatory, and snakelike in humanity serves just as well as its opposite to enhance the species 'humanity.' But to say this much is to not say enough, and, in any event, this is the point we have reached with our speaking and our silence, at the other end of all modern ideology and herd desires: perhaps as their antipodes? Is it any wonder that we 'free spirits' are not exactly the most communicative spirits? That we do not want to fully reveal what a spirit might free himself from and what he will then perhaps be driven towards ? And as to the dangerous formula 'beyond good and evil,' it serves to protect us, at least from being mistaken for something else. We are something different from ' libres-penseurs ,' ' liberi pensatori ,' ' Freidenker ' and whatever else all these sturdy advocates of 'modern ideas' like to call themselves. At home in many countries of the spirit, at least as guests; repeatedly slipping away from the musty, comfortable corners where preference and prejudice, youth, origin, accidents of people and books, and even the fatigue of traveling seem to have driven us; full of malice"}
{"text": "at the lures of dependency that lie hidden in honors, or money, or duties, or enthusiasms of the senses; grateful even for difficulties and inconstant health, because they have always freed us from some rule and In German: Versucherkunst (see note above). These are terms meaning 'free thinker' in French, Italian, and German."}
{"text": "its 'prejudice,' grateful to the god, devil, sheep, and maggot in us, curious to a fault, researchers to the point of cruelty, with unmindful fingers for the incomprehensible, with teeth and stomachs for the indigestible, ready for any trade that requires a quick wit and sharp senses, ready for any risk, thanks to an excess of 'free will,' with front and back souls whose ultimate aim is clear to nobody, with fore- and backgrounds that no foot can fully traverse, hidden under the cloak of light, conquerors, even if we look like heirs and prodigals, collectors and gatherers from morning until evening, miserly with our riches and our cabinets filled to the brim, economical with what we learn and forget, inventive in schemata, sometimes proud of tables of categories, sometimes pedants, sometimes night owls at work, even in bright daylight; yes, even scarecrows when the need arises - and today the need has arisen: inasmuch as we are born, sworn, jealous friends of solitude , our own deepest, most midnightly, noon-likely solitude. This is the type of people we are, we free spirits! and perhaps you are something of this yourselves, you who are approaching? you new philosophers? -"}
{"text": "The human soul and its limits, the scope of human inner experience to date, the heights, depths, and range of these experiences, the entire history of the soul so far and its still unexhausted possibilities: these are the predestined hunting grounds for a born psychologist and lover of the 'great hunt.' But how often does he have to turn to himself in despair and say: 'Only one! only a single one! and this huge forest, this primeval forest!' And then he wishes he had a few hundred hunting aides and welltrained bloodhounds he could drive into the history of the human soul to round up his game. To no avail: time and again he gets an ample and bitter reminder of how hard it is to find hounds and helpers for the very things that prick his curiosity. The problem with sending scholars into new and dangerous hunting grounds, where courage, intelligence, and subtlety in every sense are needed, is that they stop being useful the very moment the ' great hunt'(butalsothegreatdanger)begins:-thisisjustwhentheylose their sharp eye and keen nose. For instance, it might take somebody who is himself as deep, as wounded, and as monstrous as Pascal's intellectual conscience to figure out the sort of history that the problem of science and conscience has had in the soul of homines religiosi so far. And, even then, such a person would still need that vaulting sky of bright, malicious spirituality from whose heights this throng of dangerous and painful experiences could be surveyed, ordered, and forced into formulas. - But who would do me this service! But who would have the time to wait for such servants! - it is clear that they grow too rarely; they are so Religious people. Beyond Good and Evil unlikely in every age! In the end, you have to do everything yourself if you want to know anything: which means you have a lot to do! - But a curiosity like mine is still the most pleasant vice of all; - oh sorry! I meant to say: the love of truth finds its reward in heaven and even on earth. -"}
{"text": "The sort of faith demanded (and often achieved) by early Christianity in the middle of a skeptical, southern, free-spirited world, a world that had century-long struggles between schools of philosophy behind and inside it, not to mention the education in tolerance given by the imperium Romanum - this faith is not the simple, rude, peon's faith with which a Luther or a Cromwell or some other northern barbarian of the spirit clung to its God and its Christianity. It is much closer to Pascal's faith, which has the gruesome appearance of a protracted suicide of reason - a tough, longlived, worm-like reason that cannot be killed all at once and with a single stroke. From the beginning, Christian faith has been sacrifice: sacrifice of all freedom, of all pride, of all self-confidence of the spirit; it is simultaneously enslavement and self-derision, self-mutilation. There is cruelty and religious Phoenicianism in this faith, which is expected of a worn-down, many-sided,badlyspoiledconscience.Itspresuppositionisthatthesubjugation of spirit causes indescribable pain , and that the entire past and all the habits of such a spirit resist the absurdissimum presented to it as 'faith.' Obtuse to all Christian terminology, modern people can no longer relate to the hideous superlative found by an ancient taste in the paradoxical formula 'god on the cross.' Nowhere to date has there been such a bold inversion or anything quite as horrible, questioning, and questionable as this formula. It promised a revaluation of all the values of antiquity. This was the revenge of the Orient, the deep Orient, this was the revenge of the oriental slave on Rome with its noble and frivolous tolerance, on Roman 'Catholicity' of faith. And what infuriated the slaves about and against their masters was never faith itself, but rather the freedom from faith, that half-stoic and smiling nonchalance when it came to the seriousness of faith. Enlightenment is infuriating. Slaves want the unconditional; Roman Empire. Height of absurdity."}
{"text": "they understand only tyranny, even in morality. They love as they hate, without nuance, into the depths, to the point of pain and sickness - their copious, hidden suffering makes them furious at the noble taste that seems to deny suffering. Skepticism about suffering (which is basically just an affectation of aristocratic morality) played no small role in the genesis of the last great slave revolt, which began with the French Revolution."}
{"text": "Wherever the religious neurosis has appeared so far, we find it connected with three dangerous dietary prescriptions: solitude, fasting, and sexual abstinence, - but without being able to say for sure which is the cause and which is the effect and whether in fact there is a causal relation at all. This last doubt seems justified by the fact that another one of the most regular symptoms of the religious neurosis, in both wild and tame peoples, is the most sudden and dissipated display of voluptuousness, which then turns just as suddenly into spasms of repentance and negations of the world and will: perhaps both can be interpreted as epilepsy in disguise? But here is where interpretation must be resisted the most: no type to date has been surrounded by such an overgrowth of inanity and superstition; and none so far has seemed to hold more interest for people, or even for philosophers. It might be time to calm down a bit, as far as this topic goes, to learn some caution, or even better: to look away, to go away . - This gruesome question-mark of religious crisis and awakening still stands in the background of the newest arrival in philosophy (which is to say: the Schopenhauerian philosophy), almost as the problem in itself. How is negation of the will possible ? Howis the saint possible? This really seems to have been the question that started Schopenhauer off and made him into a philosopher. And so it was a true Schopenhauerian consequence that his most devoted follower (and perhaps also his last, as far as Germany was concerned -), namely Richard Wagner, finished his own life's work at this very point, and finally brought to the stage the life and times of that awful and eternal type in the character of Kundry, type v'ecu . And, at the same time, psychiatrists in almost every European country had the opportunity to study this type up close, wherever the religious neurosis - or, as I call it, 'the religious character' - was having its latest epidemic outbreak and A type that has lived. Kundry is a character from Wagner's last opera, Parsifal . Beyond Good and Evil"}
{"text": "pageant as the 'Salvation Army.' - But if someone asks what it really was in the whole phenomenon of the saint that caused such inordinate interest among people of all kinds in all ages, and even among philosophers, it was undoubtedly the aura of a miracle that clung to it; it displayed the immediate succession of opposites , of antithetically valorized moral states of soul. It seemed palpable that here was a 'bad man' turning suddenly into a good man, a 'saint.' Psychology to date has been shipwrecked on this spot. Wasn't this primarily because it had put itself under the dominance of morality, because it actually believed in opposing moral values, and saw, read, and interpreted these opposites into texts and into facts? - What? So 'miracles' are just errors of interpretation? A lack of philology? -"}
{"text": "The Latin races seem to have much more of an affinity to their Catholicism than we northerners do to Christianity in general. Consequently, a lack of belief means something very different in Catholic countries than in Protestant ones. In Catholic countries it is a sort of anger against the spirit of the race, while with us it is more like a return to the spirit (or un-spirit -) of the race. There is no doubt that we northerners are descended from barbarian races, even as far as our talent for religion goes-itisa meager talent. The Celts are an exception, which is why they also furnished the best soil for the spread of the Christian infection to the north: - the Christian ideal came into bloom in France, at least as far as the pale northern sun would allow. Even these recent French skeptics, how strangely pious they strike our tastes, to the extent that there is some Celtic blood in their lineage! How Catholic, how un-German Auguste Comte's sociology smells to us, with its Roman logic of the instincts! How Jesuitical Sainte-Beuve is, that amiable and intelligent cicerone of Port-Royal, inspiteofallhishostilitytowardstheJesuits!AndespeciallyErnestRenan: how inaccessible the language of such as Renan sounds to us northerners, this man with a soul that is voluptuous (in a more refined sense) and inclined to rest quite comfortably, but is always being thrown off balance by some nothingness of religious tension! Let us repeat these beautiful sentences after him, - along with the sort of malice and arrogance that stirs in our souls in immediate reply, souls that are probably harsher and not nearly as beautiful, being German souls! - ' disons donc hardiment que"}
{"text": "la religion est un produit de l'homme normal, que l'homme est le plus dans le vrai quand il est le plus religieux et le plus assur'e d'une destin'ee infinie ... C'est quand il est bon qu'il veut que la vertu corresponde 'a un ordre 'eternel, c'est quand il contemple les choses d'une mani'ere d'esint'eress'ee qu'il trouve la mort r'evoltante et absurde. Comment ne pas supposer que c'est dans ces moments-l'a, que l'homme voit le mieux ? ... ' These sentences are so utterly antipodal to my ears and habits that when I found them, my initial rage wrote ' la niaiserie religieuse par excellence !' next to them - until my final rage actually started to like them, these sentences whose truth is standing on its head! It is so elegant, so distinguished, to have your own antipodes! What is amazing about the religiosity of ancient Greeks is the excessive amount of gratitude that flows out from it: - it takes a very noble type of person to face nature and life like this ! - Later, when the rabble gained prominence in Greece, religion became overgrown with fear as well, and Christianity was on the horizon. - The passion for God: there is the peasant type, naive and presumptuous - like Luther. The whole of Protestantism is devoid of any southern delicatezza . It has a certain oriental ecstasy, as when an undeserving slave has been pardoned or promoted - in Augustine, for example, who is offensively lacking any nobility of demeanor and desire. It has a certain womanly tenderness and lustfulness that pushes coyly and unsuspectingly towards a unio mystica et physica : like Madame de Guyon. It often appears, strangely enough, as a disguise for the puberty of some girl or boy; now and then it even appears as the hysteria of an old maid, and her"}
{"text": "'So we strongly affirm that religion is a product of the normal man, that man is most in the right when he is most religious and most assured of an infinite destiny ... It is when he is good that he wants virtue to correspond to an eternal order, it is when he contemplates things in a disinterested manner that he finds death revolting and absurd. How could we fail to suppose that these are the moments when man sees best?' Religious silliness par excellence . Delicacy. Mystical and physical union. Beyond Good and Evil final ambition: - in such cases, the church often declares the woman to be a saint. To this day, the most powerful people have still bowed down in veneration before the saint, as the riddle of self-conquest and deliberate, final renunciation: why have they bowed down like this? They sensed a superior force in the saint and, as it were, behind the question-mark of his frail and pathetic appearance, a force that wants to test itself through this sort of conquest. They sensed a strength of will in which they could recognize and honor their own strength and pleasure in domination. When they honored the saint, they honored something in themselves. Furthermore, the sight of the saint made them suspicious: 'No one would desire such a monstrosity of negation, of anti-nature, for nothing,' they said to (and asked of) themselves. 'Perhaps there is a reason for it, perhaps the ascetic has inside information about some very great danger, thanks to his secret counselors and visitors?' Enough: in front of the saint, the powerful of the world learned a new fear, they sensed a new power, an alien, still unconquered enemy: - it was the 'will to power' that made them stop in front of the saint. They had to ask him - -"}
{"text": "The Jewish 'Old Testament,' the book of divine justice, has people, things, and speeches in such grand style that it is without parallel in the written works of Greece and India. We stand in horror and awe before this monstrous vestige of what humanity once was, and then reflect sadly on old Asia and its protruding little peninsula of Europe that desperately wants (over and against Asia) to stand for the 'progress of humanity.' Of course: there will be nothing in these ruins to astonish or distress anyone whoisjust a dull, tame, house pet himself, and understands only house pet needs (like educated people today, including the Christians of 'educated' Christianity) - the taste for the Old Testament is a touchstone for the 'great' and the 'small.' Perhaps he will still find the New Testament, the book of mercy, more to his liking (it is full of the proper, tender, musty stench of true believers and small souls). The fact that this New Testament (which is a type of Rococo of taste in every respect) gets pasted together with the Old Testament to make a single book, a 'Bible,' a 'book in itself ': this is probably the greatest piece of temerity and 'sin against the spirit' that literary Europe has on its conscience. Why atheism today? God 'the Father' has been thoroughly refuted; and so has 'the Judge' and 'the Reward-giver.' The same for God's 'free will': he doesn't listen, - and even if he did, he wouldn't know how to help anyway. The worst part of it is: he seems unable to communicate in an intelligible manner: is he unclear? - After hearing, questioning, discussing many things, these are the causes I have found for the decline of Europeantheism.It seems to me that the religious instinct is indeed growing vigorously - but that it rejects any specifically theistic gratification with profound distrust."}
{"text": "So what is really going on with the whole of modern philosophy? Since Descartes (and, in fact, in spite of him more than because of him) all the philosophers have been out to assassinate the old concept of the soul, undertheguiseofcritiquingtheconceptsofsubjectandpredicate.Inother words, they have been out to assassinate the fundamental presupposition of the Christian doctrine. As a sort of epistemological skepticism, modern philosophy is, covertly or overtly, anti-Christian (although, to state the point for more subtle ears, by no means anti-religious). People used to believe in 'the soul' as they believed in grammar and the grammatical subject: people said that 'I' was a condition and 'think' was a predicate and conditioned - thinking is an activity, and a subject must be thought of as its cause. Now, with admirable tenacity and cunning, people are wondering whether they can get out of this net - wondering whether the reverse might be true: that 'think' is the condition and 'I' is conditioned, in which case 'I' would be a synthesis that only gets produced through thought itself. Kant essentially wanted to prove that the subject cannot be proven on the basis of the subject - and neither can the object. The possibility that the subject (and therefore 'the soul') has a merely apparent existence might not always have been foreign to him, this thought that, Beyond Good and Evil in the form of the Vedanta philosophy, has already arisen on earth once before and with enormous power."}
{"text": "There is a great ladder of religious cruelty, and, of its many rungs, three are the most important. People used to make human sacrifices to their god, perhaps even sacrificing those they loved the best - this sort of phenomenon can be found in the sacrifice of the firstborn (a practice shared by all prehistoric religions), as well as in Emperor Tiberius' sacrifice in the Mithras grotto on the Isle of Capri, that most gruesome of all Roman anachronisms. Then, during the moral epoch of humanity, people sacrificed the strongest instincts they had, their 'nature,' to their god; the joy of this particular festival shines in the cruel eyes of the ascetic, that enthusiastic piece of 'anti-nature.' Finally: what was left to be sacrificed? In the end, didn't people have to sacrifice all comfort and hope, everything holy or healing, any faith in a hidden harmony or a future filled with justice and bliss? Didn't people have to sacrifice God himself and worship rocks, stupidity, gravity, fate, or nothingness out of sheer cruelty to themselves? To sacrifice God for nothingness - that paradoxical mystery of the final cruelty has been reserved for the race that is now approaching: by now we all know something about this. -"}
{"text": "Anyone like me, who has tried for a long time and with some enigmatic desire, to think pessimism through to its depths and to deliver it from the half-Christian, half-German narrowness and naivet'e with which it has finally presented itself to this century, namely in the form of the Schopenhauerian philosophy; anyone who has ever really looked with an Asiatic and supra-Asiatic eye into and down at the most world-negating of all possible ways of thinking - beyond good and evil, and no longer, like SchopenhauerandtheBuddha,underthespellanddelusionofmorality -; anyone who has done these things (and perhaps precisely by doing these things) will have inadvertently opened his eyes to the inverse ideal: to the ideal of the most high-spirited, vital, world-affirming individual, who has learned not just to accept and go along with what was and what is, but who wants it again just as it was and is through all eternity, insatiably shouting"}
{"text": "da capo not just to himself but to the whole play and performance, and not just to a performance, but rather, fundamentally, to the one who needs precisely this performance - and makes it necessary: because again and again he needs himself - and makes himself necessary. - - What? and that wouldn't be circulus vitiosus deus ? As humanity's spiritual vision and insight grows stronger, the distance and, as it were, the space that surrounds us increases as well; our world gets more profound, and new stars, new riddles and images are constantly coming into view. Perhaps everything the mind's eye has used to quicken its wit and deepen its understanding was really just a chance to practice, a piece of fun, something for children and childish people. Perhaps the day will come when the concepts of 'God' and 'sin,' which are the most solemn concepts of all and have caused the most fighting and suffering, will seem no more important to us than a child's toy and a child's pain seem to an old man, - and perhaps 'the old man' will then need another toy and another pain, - still enough of a child, an eternal child!"}
{"text": "Has anyone really noticed the extent to which being outwardly idle or half-idle is necessary for a genuinely religious life (and for its favorite job of microscopic self-examination just as much as for that tender state of composure which calls itself 'prayer' and is a constant readiness for the 'coming of God')?-Imeananidleness with a good conscience, passed down over the ages, through the bloodline, an idleness that is not entirely alien to the aristocratic feeling that work is disgraceful , which is to say it makes the soul and the body into something base. And has anyone noticed that, consequently, it is the modern, noisy, time-consuming, self-satisfied, stupidly proud industriousness which, more than anything else, gives people an education and preparation in 'un-belief '? For example, among those in Germany today who have distanced themselves from religion, From the beginning. In musical scores, this directs the performer to return to an earlier point in the piece and repeat what has already been played. God as a vicious circle."}
{"text": "I find representatives of various types and extractions of 'free-thinking'; but, above all, a majority whose industriousness has, over generations, dissolved any religious instinct, so that they no longer know what religion is good for, and only register its presence in the world with a type of dull amazement. They feel they are already busy enough, these good people, whether it is with their businesses or their pleasures, not to mention the 'fatherland' and the newspapers and 'familial obligations.' They do not seem to have any time to spare for religion, particularly when it is unclear to them whether it would be a new business or a new pleasure - 'since people can't possibly be going to church just to spoil a good mood,' they tell themselves. They are not enemies of religious customs; if circumstance (or the state) requires them to take part in such customs, they do what is required, like people tend to do -, and they do it with a patient and unassuming earnestness, without much in the way of curiosity or unease: they just live too far apart and outside to even think they need a For or Against in such matters. Today, most middle-class German Protestants are also among the ranks of the indifferent, particularly in the industrious large trade and transportation centers; the same is true for the majority of industrious scholars, and the whole university apparatus (except for the theologians, whose presence and possibility here gives the psychologist increasingly many and increasingly subtle riddles to resolve). People who are devout or even just church-goers will rarely imagine howmuch goodwill (or may be 'whimsical will') is required for a German scholar to take the problem of religion seriously. On the basis of his whole craft (and, as mentioned before, on the basis of the craftsman-like industriousness his modernconsciencecommitshimto),hetendstoregardreligionwithanair of superior, almost gracious amusement, which is sometimes mixed with a slight contempt for what he assumes to be an 'uncleanliness' of spirit that exists wherever anyone still supports the church. Only with the help of history (and therefore not on the basis of his personal experience) does the scholar succeed in approaching religion with a reverential seriousness and a certain cautious consideration. But even if he reaches the point where he feels grateful for religion, he does not come a single step closer to"}
{"text": "what still passes for church or piety: possibly even the reverse. The practical indifference towards religious matters with which he was born and raised tends, in his case, to be sublimated into a caution and cleanliness that shuns contact with religious people and religious affairs; and it can be the very depth of his tolerance and humanity that urges him to evade the subtle"}
{"text": "crises intrinsic to toleration itself. - Every age has its own, divine type of naivet'e that other ages may envy; and how much naivet'e - admirable, childish, boundlessly foolish naivet'e - lies in the scholar's belief in his own superiority, in the good conscience he has of his tolerance, in the clueless, simple certainty with which he instinctively treats the religious man as an inferior, lesser type, something that he himself has grown out of, away from, and above , - he, who is himself a presumptuous little dwarf and rabble-man, a brisk and busy brain- and handiworker of 'ideas,' of 'modern ideas'!"}
{"text": "Anyone who has looked deeply into the world will probably guess the wisdom that lies in human superficiality. An instinct of preservation has taught people to be flighty, light, and false. We occasionally find both philosophers and artists engaging in a passionate and exaggerated worship of 'pure forms.' Let there be no doubt that anyone who needs the cult of the surface this badly has at some point reached beneath the surface with disastrous results. Perhaps there is even an order of rank for these wounded children, the born artists, who find pleasure in life only by intending to falsify its image, in a sort of prolonged revenge against life -. We can infer the degree to which life has been spoiled for them from the extent to which they want to see its image distorted, diluted, deified, and cast into the beyond - considered as artists, the homines religiosi would belong to the highest rank. Entire millennia sink their teeth into a religious interpretation of existence, driven by a deep, suspicious fear of an incurable pessimism; this fear comes from an instinct which senses that we could get hold of the truth too soon , before people have become strong enough, hard enough, artistic enough ... Seen in this light, piety - the 'life in God' - appears as the last and most subtle monstrosity produced by fear of the truth; it appears as the artists' worship and intoxication before the most consistent of all falsifications, as the will to invert the truth, the will to untruth at any price. Perhaps piety has been the most potent method yet for the beautification of humanity: it can turn people into art, surface, plays of colors, benevolence, and to such an extent that we can finally look at them without suffering. - Religious people. Beyond Good and Evil"}
{"text": "To love humanity for the sake of God - that has been the noblest and most bizarre feeling people have attained so far. That the love of humanity, in the absence of any sanctifying ulterior motive, is one more stupidity and abomination; that the tendency to love humanity like this can only get its standard, its subtlety, its grain of salt and pinch of ambergris from a higher tendency: - whoever it was that first felt and 'experienced' all this, however much his tongue might have stumbled as it tried to express such a tenderness, let him be forever holy and admirable to us as the man who has flown the highest so far and has got the most beautifully lost! The philosopher as we understand him, we free spirits -, as the man with the most comprehensive responsibility, whose conscience bears the weight of the overall development of humanity, this philosopher will make useofreligion for his breeding and education work, just as he will make use of the prevailing political and economic situation. The influence that can be exerted over selection and breeding with the help of religions (and this influence is always just as destructive as it is creative and formative) varies according to the type of person who falls under their spell and protection. For people who are strong, independent, prepared, and predestined for command, people who come to embody the reason and art of a governing race, religion is an additional means of overcoming resistances, of being able to rule. It binds the ruler together with the ruled, giving and handing the consciences of the ruled over to the rulers - which is to say: handing over their hidden and most interior aspect, and one which would very much like to escape obedience. And if individuals from such a noble lineage are inclined, by their high spirituality, towards a retiring and contemplative life, reserving for themselves only the finest sorts of rule (over exceptional young men or monks), then religion can even be used as a means of securing calm in the face of the turmoil and tribulations of the cruder forms of government, and purity in the face of the necessary dirt of politics. This is how the Brahmins, for instance, understood the matter. With the help of a religious organization, they assumed the power to appoint kings for the people, while they themselves kept and felt removed and outside, a people of higher, over-kingly tasks."}
{"text": "Meanwhile, religion also gives some fraction of the ruled the instruction and opportunity they need to prepare for eventual rule and command. This is particularly true for that slowly ascending class and station in which, through fortunate marriage practices, the strength and joy of the will, the will to self-control is always on the rise. Religion tempts and urges them to take the path to higher spirituality and try out feelings of great self-overcoming, of silence, and of solitude. Asceticism and Puritanism are almost indispensable means of educating and ennobling a race that wants to gain control over its origins among the rabble, and work its way up to eventual rule. Finally, as for the common people, the great majority, who exist and are only allowed to exist to serve and to be of general utility, religion gives them an invaluable sense of contentment with their situation and type; it puts their hearts greatly at ease, it glorifies their obedience, it gives them (and those like them) one more happiness and one more sorrow, it transfigures and improves them, it provides something of a justification for everything commonplace, for all the lowliness, for the whole half-bestial poverty of their souls. Religion, and the meaning religion gives to life, spreads sunshine over such eternally tormented people and makes them bearable even to themselves. It has the same effect that an Epicurean philosophy usually has on the suffering of higher ranks: it refreshes, refines, and makes the most of suffering, as it were. In the end it even sanctifies and justifies. Perhaps there is nothing more venerable about Christianity and Buddhism than their art of teaching even the lowliest to use piety in order to situate themselves in an illusory higher order of things, and in so doing stay satisfied with the actual order, in which their lives are hard enough (in which precisely this hardness is necessary!)."}
{"text": "Finally, to show the downside of these religions as well and throw light on their uncanny dangers: there is a high and horrible price to pay when religions do not serve as means for breeding and education in the hands of a philosopher, but instead serve themselves and become sovereign , when they want to be the ultimate goal instead of a means alongside other means. With humans as with every other type of animal, there is a surplus of failures and degenerates, of the diseased and infirm, of those who necessarily suffer. Even with humans, successful cases are always the exception and, Beyond Good and Evil"}
{"text": "since humans are the still undetermined animals , the infrequent exception. But it gets worse: people who represent more nobly bred types are less likely to turn out well . Chance, that law of nonsense in the overall economy of mankind, is most terribly apparent in its destructive effect on the higher men, whose conditions of life are subtle, multiple, and difficult to calculate. So how is this surplus of failures treated by the two greatest religions, those mentioned above? They try to preserve, to keep everything living that can be kept in any way alive. In fact, they take sides with the failures as a matter of principle, as religions of the suffering . They give rights to all those who suffer life like a disease, and they want to make every other feeling for life seem wrong and become impossible. Whatever merit we might find in this indulgent, preserving care, which was and is meant for the highest types of people (since these are the ones that, historically, have almost always suffered the most), along with everyone else - nevertheless, in the final analysis, the religions that have existed so far (which have all been sovereign ) have played a principal role in keeping the type 'man' on a lower level. They have preserved too much of what should be destroyed . They have done invaluable service, these religions, and who is so richly endowedwithgratitude not to grow poor in the face of everything that, for instance, the 'spiritual men' of Christianity have done for Europe so far! Andyet, after they gave comfort to the suffering, courage to the oppressed anddespairing, a staff and support to the dependent, after they found people who were inwardly destroyed or had grown wild and lured them away from society, into cloisters and spiritual prisons: what else did they have to do, to work in good conscience and conviction for the preservation of all the sick and suffering, which really means working in word and in deed for the deterioration of the European race ? Stand all valuations on their head -that is what they had to do! And crush the strong, strike down the great hopes, throw suspicion on the delight in beauty, skew everything self-satisfied, manly, conquering, domineering, every instinct that belongs to the highest and best-turned-out type of 'human,' twist them into uncertainty, crisis of conscience, self-destruction; at the limit, invert the whole love of the earth and of earthly dominion"}
{"text": "into hatred against earth and the earthly that is the task the church set and needed to set for itself until, in its estimation, 'unworldly,' 'unsensuous,' and 'higher man' finally melted together into a single feeling. If you could survey the strangely painful, crude yet subtle comedy of European Christianity with the mocking and disinterested eye of an Epicurean god, I think you would find it to be a constant source of amazement and laughter. Doesn't it seem as if, for eighteen centuries, Europe was dominated by the single will to turn humanity into a sublime abortion? But if somebody with opposite needs were to approach the almost willful degeneration and atrophy of humanity that the Christian European (Pascal for instance) has become, somebody whose manner is no longer Epicurean, but has instead some divine hammer in hand; wouldn't he have to yell out in rage, in pity, in horror: 'Oh you fools, you presumptuous, pitying fools, what have you donehere!Wasthatworkmeantforyourhands!Lookhowyou'vewrecked and ruined my most beautiful stone! Who gave you the right to do such a thing!' - What I mean is: Christianity has been the most disastrous form of arrogance so far. People who were not high and hard enough to give human beings artistic form; people who were not strong or far-sighted enough, who lacked the sublime self-discipline to give free reign to the foreground law of ruin and failure by the thousands; people who were not noble enough to see the abysmally different orders of rank and chasms in rank between different people. People like this , with their 'equality before God' have prevailed over the fate of Europe so far, until a stunted, almost ridiculous type, a herd animal, something well-meaning, sickly, and mediocre has finally been bred: the European of today ..."}
{"text": "Genuine teachers only take things seriously where their students are concerned - even themselves. 'Knowledge for its own sake' - this is the final snare morality has laid; with it, we become completely entangled in morals once again. Knowledge would have little charm if there were not so much shame to be overcome in order to reach it. a People are at their least honest when it comes to their God: he is not allowed to sin! The tendency to let oneself be debased, robbed, lied to, and exploited could be the shame of a god among men. It is barbaric to love one thing alone, since this one love will be pursued at the expense of all others. This includes love of God. Epigrams and entr'actes 'I did that' says my memory. I couldn't have done that - says my pride, and stands its ground. Finally, memory gives in. You have been a poor observer of life if you have not also seen the hand that, ever so gently - kills. If you have character, you also have a typical experience that always comes back. The sage as astronomer. - If you still experience the stars as something 'over you,' you still don't have the eyes of a knower. It is not the strength but the duration of high feelings that makes for high men. Precisely by attaining an ideal, we surpass it. a Many peacocks hide their peacock tails - and call that their pride. A man with genius is insufferable if he doesn't have at least two more things: gratitude and cleanliness."}
{"text": "The degree and type of a person's sexuality reaches up into the further- most peaks of their spirit., Beyond Good and Evil = . The degree and type of a person's sexuality reaches up into the further- most peaks of their spirit., Beyond Good and Evil = . The degree and type of a person's sexuality reaches up into the further- most peaks of their spirit., Beyond Good and Evil = . , Beyond Good and Evil = . , Beyond Good and Evil = . , Beyond Good and Evil = . In peaceful conditions, the warlike man will attack himself., Beyond Good and Evil = . In peaceful conditions, the warlike man will attack himself., Beyond Good and Evil = . In peaceful conditions, the warlike man will attack himself., Beyond Good and Evil = . , Beyond Good and Evil = . , Beyond Good and Evil = . , Beyond Good and Evil = . , Beyond Good and Evil = . , Beyond Good and Evil = want utterly different things from them.. , Beyond Good and Evil = . , Beyond Good and Evil = . , Beyond Good and Evil = . , Beyond Good and Evil = . Asoul that knows it is loved but does not itself love exposes its sediment: - its bottom-most aspect rises to the top. An issue that has been resolved stops mattering to us. - What did that god whocounseled'Knowyourself!'reallymean?Wasitperhaps:'Stop letting anything matter to you! Become objective!' - And Socrates? - And the 'scientific man'? - It is terrible to die of thirst in the ocean. So do you have to salt your truth to the point where it doesn't quench thirst anymore? , Beyond Good and Evil = Asoul that knows it is loved but does not itself love exposes its sediment: - its bottom-most aspect rises to the top. An issue that has been resolved stops mattering to us. - What did that god whocounseled'Knowyourself!'reallymean?Wasitperhaps:'Stop letting anything matter to you! Become objective!' - And Socrates? - And the 'scientific man'? - It is terrible to die of thirst in the ocean. So do you have to salt your truth to the point where it doesn't quench thirst anymore? . Asoul that knows it is loved but"}
{"text": "does not itself love exposes its sediment: - its bottom-most aspect rises to the top. An issue that has been resolved stops mattering to us. - What did that god whocounseled'Knowyourself!'reallymean?Wasitperhaps:'Stop letting anything matter to you! Become objective!' - And Socrates? - And the 'scientific man'? - It is terrible to die of thirst in the ocean. So do you have to salt your truth to the point where it doesn't quench thirst anymore? , Beyond Good and Evil = Asoul that knows it is loved but does not itself love exposes its sediment: - its bottom-most aspect rises to the top. An issue that has been resolved stops mattering to us. - What did that god whocounseled'Knowyourself!'reallymean?Wasitperhaps:'Stop letting anything matter to you! Become objective!' - And Socrates? - And the 'scientific man'? - It is terrible to die of thirst in the ocean. So do you have to salt your truth to the point where it doesn't quench thirst anymore? . Asoul that knows it is loved but does not itself love exposes its sediment: - its bottom-most aspect rises to the top. An issue that has been resolved stops mattering to us. - What did that god whocounseled'Knowyourself!'reallymean?Wasitperhaps:'Stop letting anything matter to you! Become objective!' - And Socrates? - And the 'scientific man'? - It is terrible to die of thirst in the ocean. So do you have to salt your truth to the point where it doesn't quench thirst anymore? , Beyond Good and Evil = Asoul that knows it is loved but does not itself love exposes its sediment: - its bottom-most aspect rises to the top. An issue that has been resolved stops mattering to us. - What did that god whocounseled'Knowyourself!'reallymean?Wasitperhaps:'Stop letting anything matter to you! Become objective!' - And Socrates? - And the 'scientific man'? - It is terrible to die of thirst in the ocean. So do you have to salt your truth to the point where it doesn't quench"}
{"text": "thirst anymore? . Anyone who despises himself will still respect himself as a despiser., Beyond Good and Evil = . Anyone who despises himself will still respect himself as a despiser., Beyond Good and Evil = . Anyone who despises himself will still respect himself as a despiser., Beyond Good and Evil = . , Beyond Good and Evil = . , Beyond Good and Evil = People use their principles to try to tyrannize or justify or honor or insult or conceal their habits: - two people with the same principles will probably. , Beyond Good and Evil = . , Beyond Good and Evil = . , Beyond Good and Evil = 'Pity for all' - would be harshness and tyranny for you ,. , Beyond Good and Evil = my dear"}
{"text": "Instinct . - When your house is on fire, you even forget about lunch. - Yes, but you pick it out from the ashes. Women learn how to hate in the same proportion that they unlearn how to charm. The same affects have different tempos in men and in women: that is why men and women do not stop misunderstanding each other."}
{"text": "Behind all their personal vanity, women always have an impersonal contempt - for 'woman.' Boundheart, free spirit . - If someone binds up his heart and takes it captive, he can give his spirit considerable freedom: I have said this once already. But nobody will believe me if they do not already know ... You start to mistrust very clever people when they get embarrassed. Terrible experiences make you wonder if the people who have experienced them are not terrible themselves. Love and hate, the very things that weigh other people down, will make heavy, heavy-hearted people lighter and momentarily superficial."}
{"text": "Weall pretend to ourselves that we are more naive than we are: this is how, Epigrams and entr'actes = Weall pretend to ourselves that we are more naive than we are: this is how. we relax from other people. , Epigrams and entr'actes = we relax from other people. . animal., Epigrams and entr'actes = Today, someone with knowledge might well feel like God becoming. , Epigrams and entr'actes = . to love even you? Or stupid enough? Or - or - ', Epigrams and entr'actes = When somebody discovers their love is requited, it really should temper their feelings for their beloved. 'What? This person is unassuming enough. , Epigrams and entr'actes = . Danger in happiness. - 'Now everything is at its best, now I love every fate: - who wants to be my fate?', Epigrams and entr'actes = Danger in happiness. - 'Now everything is at its best, now I love every fate: - who wants to be my fate?'. It is not their love for humanity but rather the impotence of their love for, Epigrams and entr'actes = It is not their love for humanity but rather the impotence of their love for. humanity that keeps today's Christian from - burning us., Epigrams and entr'actes = humanity that keeps today's Christian from - burning us.. , Epigrams and entr'actes = . For free spirits, for the 'pious men of knowledge' - the pia fraus offends taste (offends their 'piety') more than the impia fraus . This explains their profound failure to understand the church, which is typical of 'free spirits' - as their un-freedom., Epigrams and entr'actes = For free spirits, for the 'pious men of knowledge' - the pia fraus offends taste (offends their 'piety') more than the impia fraus . This explains their profound failure to understand the church, which is typical of 'free spirits' - as their un-freedom.. , Epigrams and entr'actes = . Music allows the passions to enjoy themselves.,"}
{"text": "Epigrams and entr'actes = Pious fraud. Impious fraud. Wheneveryoureachadecision,close your ears to even the best objections: this is the sign of a strong character. Which means: an occasional will to stupidity., Beyond Good and Evil = . , Beyond Good and Evil = . There are absolutely no moral phenomena, only a moral interpretation of the phenomena ..., Beyond Good and Evil = . Often enough the criminal is no match for his deed: he cheapens and slanders it., Beyond Good and Evil = . Defenders of criminals are rarely artistic enough to use the beautiful, Beyond Good and Evil = . , Beyond Good and Evil = . Our vanity is at its strongest precisely when our pride has been wounded., Beyond Good and Evil = . , Beyond Good and Evil = . , Beyond Good and Evil = . , Beyond Good and Evil = Where neither love nor hate are in play, woman is a mediocre player., Epigrams and entr'actes = Where neither love nor hate are in play, woman is a mediocre player.. , Epigrams and entr'actes = . , Epigrams and entr'actes = . Thewill to overcome an affect is, in the end, itself only the will of another, or several other, affects., Epigrams and entr'actes = . , Epigrams and entr'actes = . realize that they themselves might also be admired some day., Epigrams and entr'actes = . Disgust at filth can be so great that it prevents us from cleaning ourselves - from 'justifying' ourselves., Epigrams and entr'actes = . , Epigrams and entr'actes = . Sensuality often hurries the growth of love so that the root stays weak and is easy to tear up., Epigrams and entr'actes = . , Epigrams and entr'actes = . , Epigrams and entr'actes ="}
{"text": ", Beyond Good and Evil = . Even concubinage gets corrupted: - by marriage., Beyond Good and Evil = . If someone rejoices while burning at the stake it is not because he has triumphed over his pain, but rather over not feeling any pain when he, Beyond Good and Evil = . , Beyond Good and Evil = . Whenweareforcedtochangeourmindaboutsomebody,wecountagainst, Beyond Good and Evil = . , Beyond Good and Evil = . Apeople is nature's roundabout way of getting six or seven great men. - Yes: and then of getting around them., Beyond Good and Evil = . All proper women find something shameful about science. They think it is too forward, as if it would let people peek under their skin - or worse!, Beyond Good and Evil = . The more abstract the truth you want to teach, the more you have to, Beyond Good and Evil = . The devil has the broadest perspective on God, which is why he keeps, Beyond Good and Evil = Epigrams and entr'actes"}
{"text": "What someone is begins to reveal itself when his talent diminishes - when he stops showing what he can do. So talent is also a piece of finery; and finery is also a hiding place."}
{"text": "The sexes deceive themselves about each other: which means they basically only love and honor themselves (or their own ideal, to say it more nicely - ). So men would have it that women are placid - but women above all are essentially not placid, just like cats, however much they have rehearsed the appearance of placidity. We are best punished for our virtues. Someone who does not know how to find the path to his ideal lives more carelessly and impudently than someone without an ideal."}
{"text": "All credibility, good conscience, and evidence of truth first come from the senses."}
{"text": "Pharisaism is not a degeneration in good people: rather, a good part of it is the condition of any being good."}
{"text": "Thefirst one looks for a midwife for his thoughts - the other, for someone he can help: this is how a good conversation begins."}
{"text": "In dealing with scholars and artists, people are easily led in the wrong direction: behind a remarkable scholar you will not infrequently find a mediocre person, and behind a mediocre artist quite often - someone really remarkable."}
{"text": "When we are awake we do the same thing as when we are dreaming: we first invent and create the people we are dealing with - and then forget it immediately."}
{"text": "In revenge and in love, woman is more barbaric than man."}
{"text": "Advice as riddle . ' - If the bond does not split, - then it first must be bit.'"}
{"text": "The abdomen is the reason why people are not so quick to consider themselves gods."}
{"text": "The chastest saying I ever have heard: ' Dans le v'eritable amour c'est l'ame qui enveloppe le corps .'"}
{"text": "Our vanity would have it that the things we do best are the very things that are most difficult for us. On the origin of many morals. 'In true love, it is the soul that envelops the body.' Epigrams and entr'actes"}
{"text": "When a woman has scholarly inclinations, there is usually something wrong with her sexuality. Even sterility makes her prone to a certain masculinity of taste; man is, if you will, 'the sterile animal.'"}
{"text": "Comparing man and woman overall, you could say: woman would not have a genius for finery if she did not have an instinct for the secondary role."}
{"text": "Whoever fights with monsters should see to it that he does not become one himself. And when you stare for a long time into an abyss, the abyss stares back into you."}
{"text": "From old Florentine novellas: but also - from life: buona femmina e mala femmina vuol bastone . Sacchetti, Nov. ."}
{"text": "To seduce those nearest to you into a good opinion, and then credit the credibility of this opinion: who can equal women in this piece of art? -"}
{"text": "What an age perceives as evil is usually an untimely after-effect of something that used to be perceived as good - the atavism of an older ideal. 'Both good and bad women need the stick.' From Franco Sacchetti, Novelle (written in the late fourteenth century, but published in ). Around the hero everything turns into tragedy; around the demigod everything turns into a satyr play; and around God everything turns into - what? Perhaps 'world'? -, Beyond Good and Evil = . it, - right? my friends?, Beyond Good and Evil = . Whatever is done out of love takes place beyond good and evil., Beyond Good and Evil = . , Beyond Good and Evil = . Objections, minor infidelities, cheerful mistrust, a delight in mockery - these are symptoms of health. Everything unconditional belongs to pathology., Beyond Good and Evil = . A sense for the tragic grows and declines along with sensuousness., Beyond Good and Evil = . Madness is rare in the individual - but with groups, parties, peoples, and ages it is the rule., Beyond Good and Evil = . The thought of suicide is a strong means of comfort: it helps get us, Beyond Good and Evil ="}
{"text": "Our strongest drives, the tyrants in us, subjugate not only our reason but our conscience as well., Epigrams and entr'actes = Our strongest drives, the tyrants in us, subjugate not only our reason but our conscience as well.. Our strongest drives, the tyrants in us, subjugate not only our reason but our conscience as well., Epigrams and entr'actes = . , Epigrams and entr'actes = . , Epigrams and entr'actes = . We have to, Epigrams and entr'actes = repay good and bad: but why do we have to repay precisely those people who did us the good or bad?. We have to, Epigrams and entr'actes = . , Epigrams and entr'actes = . , Epigrams and entr'actes = . You do not love your knowledge enough anymore, as soon as you com-, Epigrams and entr'actes = . You do not love your knowledge enough anymore, as soon as you com-, Epigrams and entr'actes = . , Epigrams and entr'actes = . , Epigrams and entr'actes = . Poets are shameless with their experiences: they exploit them., Epigrams and entr'actes = . Poets are shameless with their experiences: they exploit them., Epigrams and entr'actes = . , Epigrams and entr'actes = . , Epigrams and entr'actes = . next door to them, Epigrams and entr'actes = ' - this is what all peoples believe. Lovebrings to light the high and the hidden qualities of the lover - what is. next door to them, Epigrams and entr'actes = . , Epigrams and entr'actes = . , Epigrams and entr'actes = . Jesus said to his Jews: 'The law was for servants, - love God as I do, as his son! Why should we care about morals, we sons of God?' -, Epigrams and entr'actes = rare and exceptional about him: to this extent, love easily misleads"}
{"text": "about his ordinary traits.. Jesus said to his Jews: 'The law was for servants, - love God as I do, as his son! Why should we care about morals, we sons of God?' -, Epigrams and entr'actes = . , Epigrams and entr'actes = . , Epigrams and entr'actes = . This means 'neighbor' in the Biblical sense, which Nietzsche is (the ones next door), a more general term for 'neighbor.'"}
{"text": "Regarding all parties sometimes he has to be the wether himself., Beyond Good and Evil = . - A shepherd always needs another bellwether, - or. Regarding all parties sometimes he has to be the wether himself., Beyond Good and Evil = . , Beyond Good and Evil = . , Beyond Good and Evil = . , Beyond Good and Evil = Lies come through our mouths - but the face that accompanies them tells. , Beyond Good and Evil = . Withhardpeople,intimacyis a source of shame - and something precious. , Beyond Good and Evil = Withhardpeople,intimacyis a source of shame - and something precious. . Withhardpeople,intimacyis a source of shame - and something precious. , Beyond Good and Evil = Withhardpeople,intimacyis a source of shame - and something precious. . the truth., Beyond Good and Evil = . the truth., Beyond Good and Evil = . Christianity gave Eros poison to drink: - he did not die from it, but degenerated into a vice., Beyond Good and Evil = . Christianity gave Eros poison to drink: - he did not die from it, but degenerated into a vice., Beyond Good and Evil = . Talking frequently about yourself can also be a way of hiding. There is more intrusiveness in praise than in censure. Pity is almost laughable in a man of knowledge, like tender hands on a Cyclops. , Beyond Good and Evil = Talking frequently about yourself can also be a way of hiding. There is more intrusiveness in praise than in censure. Pity is almost laughable in a man of knowledge, like tender hands on a Cyclops. . Talking frequently about yourself can also be a way of hiding. There is more intrusiveness in praise than in censure. Pity is almost laughable in a man of knowledge, like tender hands on a Cyclops. , Beyond Good and Evil = Talking frequently about yourself can also be a way of hiding. There is more intrusiveness in praise than in censure. Pity is almost laughable in a man of knowledge, like tender hands on a Cyclops. . some arbitrary person (because we cannot embrace everyone): but that is precisely what we cannot let the arbitrary person know ..., Beyond Good and Evil = . some arbitrary person (because we cannot embrace everyone): but that is precisely what we cannot let the arbitrary person know"}
{"text": "..., Beyond Good and Evil = . , Beyond Good and Evil = Every once in a while, a love of humanity will inspire us to embrace. , Beyond Good and Evil ="}
{"text": "It is inhuman to bless where you are cursed."}
{"text": "The confidences of our superiors enrage us because they cannot be reciprocated. -"}
{"text": "'I'm not upset because you lied to me, I'm upset because I don't believe you any more.' -"}
{"text": "Goodness has a high-spiritedness that looks like malice."}
{"text": "'I dislike him.' - Why? - 'I'm no match for him.' - Has anyone ever given this sort of an answer?"}
{"text": "In Europe these days, moral sentiment is just as refined, late, multiple, sensitive, and subtle as the 'science of morals' (which belongs with it) is young, neophyte, clumsy, and crude: - an attractive contrast, and one that occasionally becomes visible, embodied in the person of the moralist himself. Considering what it signifies, the very phrase 'science of morals' is much too arrogant and offends good taste, which always tends to prefer more modest terms. We should admit to ourselves with all due severity exactly what will be necessary for a long time to come and what is provisionally correct, namely: collecting material, formulating concepts, and putting into order the tremendous realm of tender value feelings and value distinctions that live, grow, reproduce, and are destroyed, - and, perhaps, attempting to illustrate the recurring and more frequent shapes of this living crystallization, - all of which would be a preparation for a typology of morals. Of course, people have not generally been this modest. Philosophers have all demanded (with ridiculously stubborn seriousness) something much more exalted, ambitious, and solemn as soon as they took up morality as a science: they wanted morality to be grounded ,-and every philosopher so far has thought that he has provided a ground for morality. Morality itself, however, was thought to be 'given.' What a distance between this sort of crass pride and that supposedly modest little descriptive project, left in rot and ruin, even though the subtlest hands and senses could hardly be subtle enough for it. Precisely because moral philosophers had only a crude knowledge of moral facta , selected arbitrarily and abbreviated at random - for instance, as the morality of Beyond Good and Evil"}
{"text": "their surroundings, their class, their church, their Zeitgeist , their climate and region, - precisely because they were poorly informed (and not particularly eager to learn more) about peoples, ages, and histories, they completely missed out on the genuine problems involved in morality, problems that only emerge from a comparison of many different moralities. As strange as it may sound, the problem of morality itself has been missing from every 'science of morals' so far: there was no suspicion that anything was really a problem. Viewed properly, the 'grounding of morals' (as philosophers called it, as they demanded it of themselves) was only an erudite form of good faith in the dominant morality, a new way of expressing it; as such, it was itself already situated within the terms of a certain morality. In the last analysis, it even constitutes a type of denial that these morals can be regarded as a problem. But, in any event, it is the opposite of an examination, dissection, interrogation, vivisection of precisely this article of faith. For example, let us listen to the almost admirable innocence with which even Schopenhauer describes his own project, and then we can draw our conclusions as to how scientific a 'science' could be when its ultimate masters are still talking like children or old women. 'The principle,' he says (p. of the Grundprobleme der Moral ), 'the fundamental claim, on whose content all ethicists actually agree: neminem laede, immo omnes, quantum potes, juva - this is actually the claim that all moralists attempt to ground ... the actual foundation of ethics that people have sought for millennia, just as they have looked for the philosophers' stone.' - The difficulty involved in grounding the claim just cited might be great indeed - Schopenhauer himself came up famously short in this regard. And anyone who has ever truly felt how inanely false and sentimental this claim is in a world whose essence is will to power -, they might recall that Schopenhauer, pessimism notwithstanding, actually - played the flute ... every day, after dinner. You can read it in his biography. And just out of curiosity: a pessimist who negates both God and world but stops before morality, - who affirms morality and plays his flute, affirms laede neminem morality: excuse me? is this really - a"}
{"text": "pessimist? Spirit of the age. 'Harm no one, but rather help everyone as much as you can.' Schopenhauer's 'Preisschrift uber die Grundlage der Moral' (Prize Essay on the Basis of Morals), part two of Die beiden Grundprobleme der Ethik ( The Two Fundamental Problems of Ethics )( ). The emphases are Nietzsche's. On the natural history of morals"}
{"text": "Apart from the value of claims like 'there is a categorical imperative in us,' the question remains: what do claims like this tell us about the people who make them? There are moralities that are supposed to justify their creator in the eyes of others, and other moralities that are supposed to calm him down and allow him to be content with himself; still other moralities allow him to crucify and humiliate himself. He can use some moralities to take revenge, others to hide, and still others to transfigure himself and place himself far and away. There are moralities that help their creator to forget, and others that let him - or something about him - be forgotten. Manymoralistswouldliketowieldpowerandimposetheircreativewhims on humanity; many others (perhaps even Kant himself) want to make it clear through their morality that 'the worthy thing about me is that I can obey - and it should be the same for you as it is for me!' - in short, even morality is just a sign language of the affects !"}
{"text": "Every morality, as opposed to laisser-aller , is a piece of tyranny against both 'nature' and 'reason.' But this in itself is no objection; for that, we would have to issue yet another decree based on some other morality forbidding every sort of tyranny and unreason. What is essential and invaluable about every morality is that it is a long compulsion. In order to understand Stoicism or Port-Royal or Puritanism, just remember the compulsion under which every language so far has developed strength and freedom: the compulsion of meter, the tyranny of rhyme and rhythm. Look at how much trouble the poets and the orators of every country have to go through! (including some of today's prose writers, who have an inexorable conscience in their ear) - and all 'for the sake of some stupidity,' as utilitarian fools say (and think they are clever for saying it) - or 'in obsequious submission to arbitrary laws,' as anarchists say (and then imagine themselves 'free,' even free-spirited). But the strange fact is that everything there is, or was, of freedom, subtlety, boldness, dance, or masterly assurance on earth, whether in thinking itself, or in ruling, or in speaking and persuading, in artistic just as in ethical practices, has only developed by virtue of the 'tyranny of such arbitrary laws.' And, in all Letting go. Beyond Good and Evil"}
{"text": "seriousness, it is not at all improbable that this is what is 'nature' and 'natural' - and not that laisser-aller ! Every artist knows how far removed this feeling of letting go is from his 'most natural' state, the free ordering, placing, disposing and shaping in the moment of 'inspiration' - he knows how strictly and subtly he obeys thousands of laws at this very moment, laws that defy conceptual formulation precisely because of their hardness and determinateness (compared with these laws, there is something floundering, multiple, and ambiguous about even the most solid concept -). I will say it again: what seems to be essential 'in heaven and on earth' is that there be obedience in one direction for a long time. In the long term, this always brings and has brought about something that makes life on earth worth living - for instance: virtue, art, music, dance, reason, intellect - something that transfigures, something refined, fantastic, and divine. The long un-freedom of spirit, the mistrustful constraint in the communicability of thought, the discipline that thinkers imposed on themselves, thinking within certain guidelines imposed by the church or court or Aristotelian presuppositions, the long, spiritual will to interpret every event according to a Christian scheme and to rediscover and justify the Christian God in every chance event, - all this violence, arbitrariness, harshness, terror, and anti-reason has shown itself to be the means through which strength, reckless curiosity, and subtle agility have been bred into the European spirit. Admittedly, this also entailed an irreplaceable loss of force and spirit, which have had to be crushed, stifled, and ruined (since here, just like everywhere else, 'nature,' shows itself in its utterly wasteful and indifferent glory, which is outrageous but noble). The fact that, for thousands of years, European thinkers have been thinking only in order to prove something (these days it is the other way around: we are suspicious of any thinker who 'has something to prove') - the fact that the results which were supposed to emerge from their most intense contemplations were in fact already firmly established (somewhat like earlier Asian astrology or even the present-day innocuous Christian-moral interpretation of the most personal events 'to the glory of god' and 'to save the soul'):"}
{"text": "- this tyranny, this arbitrariness, this stern and grandiose stupidity has trained the spirit. Slavery, in both the crude and refined senses of the term, seems to be the indispensable means of disciplining and breeding even the spirit. We can look at every morality in the following way: whatever 'nature' it contains teaches us to hate the laisser-aller , the all-too-great freedom, and plants in us the need for"}
{"text": "limited horizons and the closest tasks. It teaches a narrowing of perspective and so, in a certain sense, stupidity as a condition for life and growth. 'You should obey someone, anyone, and for a long time: or else you will deteriorate and lose all respect for yourself ' - this seems to me to be the moral imperative of nature, which is clearly neither 'categorical,' as the old Kant demanded it to be (hence the 'or else' -), nor directed to the individual (what does nature care about the individual!), but rather to peoples, races, ages, classes, and above all to the whole 'human' animal, to the human."}
{"text": "Theindustrious races find it extremely difficult to tolerate idleness: it was a stroke of genius on the part of the English instinct to spend Sundays in tedium with a te deum so that the English people would unconsciously lust for their week- and workdays. It is the same type of cleverly invented, cleverly interpolated period of fasting that you find all over the ancient world (although there, as is often the case with southern peoples, it is not exactly associated with work -). There need to be many types of fasts; and wherever powerful drives and habits rule, the law-makers have to be sure to put in leap days when these drives are chained up and made to relearn what hunger feels like. Entire generations or epochs, emerging in the grips of some moral fanaticism or another, seem (from a higher viewpoint) to be just such interposed periods of compulsion and fasting, the times when a drive learns to cower and submit, but also to keep itself clean and sharp . Some philosophical sects can be interpreted in this way as well (like the Stoa in the midst of a Hellenistic culture whose air had become heavy and lascivious with the fragrance of aphrodisiacs). - This also suggests an explanation for the paradox of why it was precisely during Europe's Christian period and only under the pressure of Christian value judgments that the sex drive sublimated itself into love ( amour-passion )."}
{"text": "ThereissomethinginPlato's moral philosophy that does not really belong to him, but is there in spite of him, as it were: namely, the Socratism that Love as passion."}
{"text": "he was really too noble for. 'Nobody wants to harm himself, and therefore everything bad happens involuntarily. The bad man brings harm to himself, and he would not do so if he knew badness was bad. Accordingly, people are bad only through error; if the error is removed, they will necessarily become - good.' - This type of inference stinks of the rabble , who see only the disagreeable effects of bad actions and are in fact judging: 'it is stupid to act badly,' while assuming that 'good' is identical with 'useful and pleasant.' If you start off with the assumption that this is the origin of every utilitarian morality and then follow your nose, you will rarely go wrong. - Plato did everything he could to interpret something refined and noble into his teacher's claim: above all, himself -, him, the most daring of all interpreters, who treated the whole of Socrates just like someone might treat a popular theme or folksong from the streets, varying it to the point of infinity and impossibility, into all his own masks and multitudes. As a joke (and a Homeric one at that), what is the Platonic Socrates if not: /rho1 ' o /Pi1 ' ' ' o ' /Pi1 ' ' X ' /rho1 ."}
{"text": "The old theological problem of 'faith' and 'knowledge' - or, to be more precise, of instinct and reason - and so, the question of whether, with respect to the value of things, the instincts deserve more authority than reason (reason wants some ground or 'what for?', some purpose or utility behind our values and actions) - this is the same old moral problem that first emerged in the person of Socrates and divided opinions long before Christianity came along. Socrates of course had initially sided with reason, given the taste of his talent - that of a superior dialectician. And, in point of fact, didn't he spend his whole life laughing at the shortcomings of his clumsy, noble Athenians, who, like all noble people, were men of instinct and could never really account for why they acted the way they did? But in the end, silently and secretly, he laughed at himself as well; with his acute conscience and self-scrutiny, he discovered the same difficulty and shortcoming in himself. 'Why free ourselves from the instincts?' he asked himself; 'We should give them their fair dues, 'Plato at the front, Plato at the back, Chimaera in the middle.'"}
{"text": "along with reason - we have to follow our instincts but persuade reason to come to their aid with good motives.' This was the genuine falseness of that great, secretive ironist; he made his conscience seem satisfied with a type of self-deceit. Basically, he had seen through to the irrationality of moral judgments. - Plato, who was more innocent in such matters and lacked Socrates' plebeian craftiness, wanted to use all his strength (the greatest strength a philosopher had ever had at his disposal!) to prove to himself that reason and the instincts converge independently on a single goal, on the Good, or 'God'; and, ever since Plato, all theologians and philosophers have been on the same track. Which is to say: in matters of morality, it has been instinct, or (as the Christians say) 'faith,' or (as I say) 'the herd' that has had the upper hand so far. Descartes was an exception, as the father of rationalism (and consequently grandfather of the Revolution) who granted authority to reason alone. But reason is only a tool and Descartes was superficial."}
{"text": "Anyone who investigates the history of a particular science will find in its development a clue to understanding the oldest and most secret processes of all 'knowledge and cognition': there as here, rash hypotheses, fictions, the dumb good will to 'believe,' and a lack of mistrust and patience develop first - our senses learn late and never fully learn to be refined, trusty, careful organs of knowledge. Given some stimulus, our eyes find it more convenient to reproduce an image that they have often produced before than to register what is different and new about an impression: the latter requires more strength, more 'morality.' It is awkward and difficult for the ear to hear something new; we are bad at listening to unfamiliar music. When we hear another language, we involuntarily try to form the sounds we hear into words that sound more comfortable and familiar to us: so, for instance, German people at one point heard ' arcubalista 'andmadeitintotheword' Armbrust .' Evenoursensesgreet everything novel with reluctance and hostility; and affects like fear, love, and hate, as well as passive affects of laziness, will be dominant during even the 'simplest' processes of sensibility. - Just as little as today's Both words mean 'crossbow.' The German term Armbrust literally means 'arm-breast' and so mimics the sound but not the sense of the Latin. Beyond Good and Evil"}
{"text": "reader takes in all the individual words (or especially syllables) on a page (he catches maybe five out of twenty words and 'guesses' what these five arbitrary words might possibly mean) - just as little do we see a tree precisely and completely, with respect to leaves, branches, colors, and shape. We find it so much easier to imagine an approximate tree instead. Even in the middle of the strangest experiences we do the same thing: we invent most of the experience and can barely be made not to regard ourselves as the 'inventor' of some process. - What all this amounts to is: we are, from the bottom up and across the ages, used to lying .Or,to put the point more virtuously, more hypocritically and, in short, more pleasantly: people are much more artistic than they think. - In the middle of a lively conversation I will often see the other person's face expressing his thoughts (or the thoughts I attribute to him) with a degree of clarity and detail that far exceeds the power of my visual ability: - such subtlety of muscle movement and ocular expression must have come from my own imagination. In all likelihood the person had an entirely different expression, or none at all."}
{"text": "Quidquid luce fuit, tenebris agit : but vice versa too. What we experience in dreams, as long as we experience it often enough, ends up belonging to the total economy of our soul just as much as anything we have 'really' experienced. Such experiences make us richer or poorer, we have one need more or less, and finally, in the bright light of day and even in the clearest moments when minds are wide awake, we are coddled a little by the habits of our dreams. Suppose someone frequently dreams that he is flying, and as soon as he starts dreaming he becomes aware of the art and ability of flight as his privilege as well as his most particular, most enviable happiness - someone like this, who thinks he can negotiate every type of curve and corner with the slightest impulse, who knows the feeling of an assured, divine ease, an 'upwards' without tension or force, a 'downwards' without condescension or abasement - without heaviness !-how could someone with dream experiences and dream habits like these not see that the word 'happiness' is colored and determined differently in his waking day too! how could his demands for happiness not be different ? 'What happened in the light goes on in the dark.' On the natural history of morals Compared to this 'flying,' the 'soaring upwards' that the poets describe will have to be too terrestrial, muscular, violent, even too 'heavy' for him."}
{"text": "Human diversity is apparent not only in the variety of people's tables of goods - which is to say the fact that they consider different goods worthwhile and that they disagree with each other as to the more or less of values, the rank order of commonly acknowledged goods: - diversity is much more evident in what they think counts as actually owning and possessing a good. When it comes to a woman, for instance, a more modest person might consider disposal over her body and sexual usage as sufficient and satisfactory signs of possession, of ownership. Someone else with a more suspicious and demanding thirst for possession will see the 'question-mark' here, the fact that this is only the appearance of possession; such a person will want to examine more closely in order to be particularly clear as to whether the woman will give not only herself to him, but also give up what she has or wants for the sake of him -: only this will count as 'possession' for him. But even this would not satisfy the mistrust and possessive desires of a third person, who asks himself whether the woman who gives up everything for his sake is not doing this for some sort of a fantasized version of him. He wants to be thoroughly (even meticulously) well known before he is able to be loved at all; he does not dare to let anyone figure him out -. He will not feel that he possesses his beloved fully until she harbors no illusions about him, until she loves him just as much for his devilishness and hidden inexhaustibility as for his goodness, patience, and spirituality. Someone might want to possess a people, and he finds all the higher arts of the Cagliostro and Catilina suited to this goal. Someone else with a more subtle thirst for possession will say to himself 'one should not deceive where one wants to possess' -. He becomes irritated and impatient at the thought that a mask of himself rules the hearts of the people: 'which is why I have to let myself be known, and above all know myself!' Among helpful and charitable people you typically discover that clumsy piece of deceit that makes somebody ready before helping him: for instance, acting as if he 'deserves' help, requires precisely their help, and will prove to be deeply grateful, devoted, and obsequious for any help they give him, - with"}
{"text": "these fantasies they treat the needy like their own property, since they are helpful and charitable out of a desire for property. You will find them jealous if you cross them while they are being charitable, or beat them to it. Parents involuntarily make children into something similar to themselves and call it 'bringing them up.' No mother doubts at the bottom of her heart that, in the child, she has given birth to a piece of property; no father questions his right to subject the child to his own ideas and valuations. In fact, there was a time (among the ancient Germans, for instance) when it seemed fair that the father should dispose of the life and death of the newborn as he saw fit. And now it is the teacher, the social class, the priest, and the prince who, like the father, see every new person as an incontrovertible opportunity for a new possession. And it follows from this ..."}
{"text": "The Jews - a people 'born for slavery' as Tacitus and the entire ancient world say, 'the people chosen of all peoples' as they themselves say and think - the Jews have achieved that miraculous thing, an inversion of values, thanks to which life on earth has had a new and dangerous charm for several millennia: - their prophets melted together 'rich,' 'godless,' 'evil,' 'violent,' 'sensual' and for the first time coined an insult out of the word 'world.' The significance of the Jewish people lies in this inversion of values (which includes using the word for 'poor' as a synonym for 'holy' and 'friend'): the slave revolt in morality begins with the Jews."}
{"text": "We infer the existence of innumerable dark bodies lying close to the sun, ones that we will never see. Between you and me, this is a parable; and a psychologist of morals will read the entire book of the stars only as a language of signs and parables in which much is left silent."}
{"text": "You utterly fail to understand beasts of prey and men of prey (like Cesare Borgia), you fail to understand 'nature' if you are still looking for a Tacitus, Historiae ,V, . On the natural history of morals 'disease' at the heart of these healthiest of all tropical monsters and growths,orparticularly if you are looking for some innate 'hell' in them -: as almost all moralists so far have done. Does it seem that moralists harbor a hatred against tropics and primeval forests? And that they need to discredit the 'tropical man' at all cost, whether as a disease or degeneration of man, or as his own hell and self-martyrdom? But why? In favor of 'temperate zones?' In favor of temperate men? Of 'moralists'? Of the mediocre? - This for the chapter: 'Morality as Timidity.' -"}
{"text": "All these morals directed at the individual person to promote what people call his 'happiness' - are they anything other than recommendations for constraint, in proportion to the degree of danger in which the individual person lives his life? or cures for his passions, his good and bad tendencies to the extent that they have will to power and want to play master? or large or small acts of cleverness and artifice, tainted with the stale smell of old folk-remedies and old wives' wisdom? They are all baroque in form and unreasonable (because they are directed at 'everyone,' because they generalize what should not be generalized); they all speak unconditionally, consider themselves unconditional; they are all seasoned with more than just one grain of salt - in fact, they only become tolerable, and occasionally even seductive, when they learn to smell over-spiced, dangerous, and, above all, 'other-worldly.' - On an intellectual scale, all this is of little value and not even remotely 'scientific' let alone 'wise'; instead, to say it again (and again and again), it is clever, clever, clever mixed with stupid, stupid, stupid, - whether we are talking about that indifference and stone column coldness which the Stoics prescribed and applied as a cure for the feverish idiocy of the affects; or that no-more-laughter, no-more-tears of Spinoza, who so naively champions the destruction of the affects through analysis and vivisection; or that method of tuning down the affects to a harmless mean where they might be satisfied, the Aristotelianism of morals; or even morality as the enjoyment of affects, intentionally watered down and spiritualized through the symbolism of art, like music, for instance, or the love of God and the love of men for the sake of God - since in religion the passions regain their civil rights, provided that ... ; and finally, even that easy and high-spirited surrender to the affects taught by Hafiz and Beyond Good and Evil Goethe, that bold slackening of the reins, that spiritual-physical licentia morum in the special cases of smart old eccentrics and drunks, where there 'isn't much danger anymore.' This also for the chapter: 'Morality as Timidity.'"}
{"text": "For as long as there have been people, there have been herds of people as well (racial groups, communities, tribes, folk, states, churches), and a very large number of people who obey compared to relatively few who command. So, considering the fact that humanity has been the best and most long-standing breeding ground for the cultivation of obedience so far, it is reasonable to suppose that the average person has an innate need to obey as a type of formal conscience that commands: 'Thou shalt unconditionally do something, unconditionally not do something,' in short: 'Thou shalt.' This need tries to satisfy itself and give its form a content, so, like a crude appetite, it indiscriminately grabs hold and accepts whatever gets screamed into its ear by some commander or another - a parent, teacher, the law, class prejudice, public opinion - according to its strength, impatience, and tension. The oddly limited character of human development - its hesitancy and lengthiness, its frequent regressions and reversals - is due to the fact that the herd instinct of obedience is inherited the best and at the cost of the art of commanding. If we imagine this instinct ever advancing to its furthest excesses, in the end there will be nobody with independence or the ability to command; or, such people will suffer inwardly from bad consciences and need to fool themselves into thinking that they too are only obeying before they are able to command. This is in fact the situation in Europe today; I call it the moral hypocrisy of the commanders. They do not know how to protect themselves from their bad consciences except by acting like executors of older or higher commands (from their ancestors, constitution, justice system, laws, or God himself) or even by borrowing herd maxims from the herd mentality, such as the 'first servants of the people,' or the 'instruments of the commonweal.' For his part, the herd man of today's Europe gives himself the appearance of being the only permissible type of man and glorifies those Moral license. On the natural history of morals"}
{"text": "characteristics that make him tame, easy-going and useful to the herd as the true human virtues, namely: public spirit, goodwill, consideration, industry, moderation, modesty, clemency, and pity. But in those cases where people think they cannot do without a leader and bellwether, they keep trying to replace the commander with an agglomeration of clever herd men: this is the origin of all representative constitutions, for example. What a relief it is for these European herd animals, what a deliverance from an increasingly intolerable pressure, when, in spite of everything, someone appears who can issue unconditional commands; the impact of Napoleon's appearance is the last major piece of evidence for this: - the history of Napoleon's impact is practically the history of the higher happiness attained by this whole century in its most worthwhile people and moments."}
{"text": "In an age of disintegration where the races are mixed together, a person will have the legacy of multiple lineages in his body, which means conflicting (and often not merely conflicting) drives and value standards that fight with each other and rarely leave each other alone. A man like this, of late cultures and refracted lights, will typically be a weaker person: his most basic desire is for an end to the war that he is . His notion of happiness corresponds to that of a medicine and mentality of pacification (for instance the Epicurean or Christian); it is a notion of happiness as primarily rest, lack of disturbance, repletion, unity at last and the 'Sabbath of Sabbaths,' to speak with the holy rhetorician Augustine, who was himself this sort of person. - But if conflict and war affect such a nature as one more stimulus and goad to life -, and if genuine proficiency and finesse in waging war with himself (which is to say: the ability to control and outwit himself) are inherited and cultivated along with his most powerful and irreconcilable drives, then what emerge are those amazing, incomprehensible, and unthinkable ones, those human riddles destined for victory and for seduction; Alcibiades and Caesar are the most exquisite expressions of this type (- and I will gladly set by their side that first European after my taste, the Hohenstaufen Frederick II), and among artists perhaps Leonardo da Vinci. They appear in exactly those ages when that weaker type, with his longing for peace, comes to the fore. These types belong together and derive from the same set of causes."}
{"text": "Aslongasherdutility is the only utility governing moral value judgments, as long as the preservation of the community is the only thing in view and questions concerning immorality are limited to those things that seem to threaten the survival of the community; as long as this is the case, there cannot yet be a 'morality of neighbor love.' Suppose that even here, consideration, pity, propriety, gentleness, and reciprocity of aid are already practiced in a small but steady way; suppose that even in this state of society, all the drives that would later come to be called by the honorable name of 'virtues' (and, in the end, basically coincide with the concept of 'morality') - suppose that they are already active: at this point they still do not belong to the realm of moral valuations at all - they are still extra-moral . During the best days of Rome, for instance, an act done out of pity was not called either good or evil, moral or immoral; and if it were praised on its own, the praise would be perfectly compatible with a type of reluctant disdain as soon as it was held up against any action that served to promote the common good, the res publica . Ultimately, the 'love of the neighbor' is always somewhat conventional, willfully feigned andbeside the point compared to fear of the neighbor . After the structure of society seems on the whole to be established and secured against external dangers,it is this fear of the neighbor that again creates new perspectives of moral valuation. Until now, in the spirit of common utility, certain strong and dangerous drives such as enterprise, daring, vindictiveness, cunning, rapacity, and a domineering spirit must have been not only honored (under different names than these of course), but nurtured and cultivated (since, given the threats to the group, they were constantly needed against the common enemies). Now, however, since there are no more escape valves for these drives, they are seen as twice as dangerous and, one by one, they are denounced as immoral and abandoned to slander. Now the opposite drives and inclinations come into moral favor; step by step, the herd instinct draws its conclusion. How much or how little danger there is to the community or to equality in an opinion, in a condition or affect, in a will, in a talent, this is now the moral perspective: and fear is once again the mother of morality. When the highest and strongest"}
{"text": "drives erupt in passion, driving the individual up and out and far above the average, over the depths of the herd conscience, the self-esteem of the community is Commonwealth. On the natural history of morals destroyed - its faith in itself, its backbone, as it were, is broken: as a result, these are the very drives that will be denounced and slandered the most. A high, independent spiritedness, a will to stand alone, even an excellent faculty of reason, will be perceived as a threat. Everything that raises the individual over the herd and frightens the neighbor will henceforth be called evil ; the proper, modest, unobtrusive, equalizing attitude and the mediocrity of desires acquire moral names and honors. Finally, in very peaceable circumstances there are fewer and fewer opportunities and less and less need to nurture an instinct for severity or hardness; and now every severity starts disturbing the conscience, even where justice is concerned. A high and hard nobility and self-reliance is almost offensive, and provokes suspicion; 'the lamb,' and 'the sheep' even more, gains respect. - There is a point in the history of a society when it becomes pathologically enervated and tenderized and it takes sides, quite honestly andearnestly, with those who do it harm, with criminals . Punishment: that seems somehow unjust to this society, - it certainly finds the thoughts of 'punishment' and 'needing to punish' both painful and frightening. 'Isn't it enough to render him unthreatening ? Why punish him as well? Punishment is itself fearful!' - with these questions, the herd morality, the morality of timidity, draws its final consequences. If the threat, the reason for the fear, could be totally abolished, this morality would be abolished as well: it would not be necessary any more, it would not consider itself necessary any more! Anyone who probes the conscience of today's European will have to extract the very same imperative from a thousand moral folds and hiding places, the imperative of herd timidity: 'we want the day to come when there is nothing more to fear !' The day to come - the will and way to that day is now called 'progress' everywhere in Europe."}
{"text": "Let us immediately repeat what we have already said a hundred times before, since there are no ready ears for such truths - for our truths these days. We know all too well how offensive it sounds when someone classifies human beings as animals, without disguises or allegory; and we are considered almost sinful for constantly using expressions like 'herd,' and 'herd instinct' with direct reference to people of 'modern ideas.' So what? We cannot help ourselves, since this is where our new insights happen to lie. Europe, we have found, has become unanimous in all major Beyond Good and Evil"}
{"text": "moral judgments; and this includes the countries under Europe's influence. People in Europe clearly know what Socrates claimed not to know, and what that famous old snake once promised to teach, - people these days 'know' what is good and evil. Now it must sound harsh and strike the ear quite badly when we keep insisting on the following point: what it is that claims to know here, what glorifies itself with its praise and reproach and calls itself good is the instinct of the herd animal man, which has come to the fore, gaining and continuing to gain predominance and supremacy over the other instincts, in accordance with the growing physiological approach and approximation whose symptom it is. Morality in Europe these days is the morality of herd animals : - and therefore, as we understand things, it is only one type of human morality beside which, before which, and after which many other (and especially higher ) moralities are or should be possible. But this morality fights tooth and nail against such a 'possibility' and such a 'should': it stubbornly and ruthlessly declares 'I am morality itself and nothing else is moral!' And in fact, with the aid of a religion that indulged and flattered the loftiest herd desires, things have reached the point where this morality is increasingly apparent in even political and social institutions: the democratic movement is the heir to Christianity. But there are indications that the tempo of this morality is still much too slow and lethargic for those who have less patience, those who are sick or addicted to the above-mentioned instinct. This is attested to by the increasingly frantic howling, the increasingly undisguised snarling of the anarchist dogs that now wander the alleyways of European culture, in apparent opposition to the peaceable and industrious democrats and ideologists of revolution, and still more to the silly philosophasters and brotherhood enthusiasts who call themselves socialists and want a 'free society.' But, in fact, they are one and all united in thorough and instinctive hostility towards all forms of society besides that of the autonomous herd (even to the point of rejecting the concepts of 'master' and 'slave' ni dieu ni matre reads a socialist formula -); they are united in their dogged opposition to any special claims, special rights, or privileges (which means, in the last analysis, that they are opposed to any rights: since when everyone is equal, no one will need 'rights' anymore -); they are united"}
{"text": "in their mistrust of punitive justice (as if it were a violation of those who are weaker, a wrong against the necessary Neither God nor master. On the natural history of morals result of all earlier societies -); but they are likewise united in the religion of pity, in sympathy for whatever feels, lives, suffers (down to the animal and up to 'God': - the excessive notion of 'pity for God' belongs in a democratic age -); they are all united in the cries and the impatience of pity, in deadly hatred against suffering in general, in the almost feminine inability to sit watching, to let suffering happen; they are united in the way they involuntarily raise the general level of sensitivity and gloom under whose spell Europe seems threatened with a new Buddhism; they are united in their faith in the morality of communal pity, as if it were morality in itself, the height, the achieved height of humanity, the sole hope for the future, the solace of the present, the great redemption of all guilt from the past: - they are all united in their faith in the community as Redeemer , which is to say: in the herd, in 'themselves' ..."}
{"text": "We who have a different faith -, we who consider the democratic movement to be not merely an abased form of political organization, but rather an abased (more specifically a diminished) form of humanity, a mediocritization and depreciation of humanity in value: where do we need to reach with our hopes? - Towards new philosophers , there is no alternative; towards spirits who are strong and original enough to give impetus to opposed valuations and initiate a revaluation and reversal of 'eternal values'; towards those sent out ahead; towards the men of the future who in the present tie the knots and gather the force that compels the will of millennia into new channels. To teach humanity its future as its will ,as dependent on a human will, to prepare for the great risk and wholesale attempt at breeding and cultivation and so to put an end to the gruesome rule of chance and nonsense that has passed for 'history' so far (the nonsense of the 'greatest number' is only its latest form): a new type of philosopher and commander will be needed for this some day, and whatever hidden, dreadful, or benevolent spirits have existed on earth will pale into insignificance beside the image of this type. The image of such leaders hovers before our eyes: - may I say this out loud, you free spirits? The conditions that would have to be partly created and partly exploited for them to come into being; the probable paths and trials that would enable a soul to grow tall and strong enough to feel the compulsion for these tasks; a revaluation of values whose new pressure and hammer will"}
{"text": "steel a conscience and transform a heart into bronze to bear the weight of a responsibility like this; and, on the other hand, the necessity of such leaders, the terrible danger that they could fail to appear or simply fail and degenerate - these are our real worries and dark clouds, do you know this, you free spirits? These are the heavy, distant thoughts and storms that traverse the sky of our lives. There are few pains as intense as ever having seen, guessed, or sympathized while an extraordinary person ran off course and degenerated: but someone with an uncommon eye for the overall danger that 'humanity' itself will degenerate , someone like us, who has recognized the outrageous contingency that has been playing games with the future of humanity so far - games in which no hand and not even a 'finger of God' has taken part! - someone who has sensed the disaster that lies hidden in the idiotic guilelessness and credulity of 'modern ideas,' and still more in the whole of Christian-European morality: someone like this will suffer from an unparalleled sense of alarm. In a single glance he will comprehend everything that could be bred from humanity , given a favorable accumulation and intensification of forces and tasks; he will know with all the prescience of his conscience how humanity has still not exhausted its greatest possibilities, and how often the type man has already faced mysterious decisions and new paths: - he will know even better, from his most painful memories, the sorts of miserable things that generally shatter, crush, sink, and turn a development of the highest rank into a miserable affair. The total degeneration of humanity down to what today's socialist fools and nitwits see as their 'man of the future' - as their ideal! - this degeneration and diminution of humanity into the perfect herd animal (or, as they say, into man in a 'free society'), this brutalizing process of turning humanity into stunted little animals with equal rights and equal claims is no doubt possible ! Anyone who has ever thought this possibility through to the end knows one more disgust than other men, - and perhaps a new task as well! ..."}
{"text": "At the risk that moralizing will prove once again to be what it always was (namely, an undismayed montrer ses plaies , in the words of Balzac), I will dare to speak out against an inappropriate and harmful shift in the rank order between science and philosophy; this shift has gone completely unnoticed and now threatens to settle in with what looks like the clearest of consciences. I mean: people need to speak from experience (and experience always seems to mean bad experience, doesn't it?) when it comes to such lofty questions of rank, or else they are like blind people talking about colors or like women and artists speaking out against science ('Oh, this awful science,' their instincts and shame will sigh, 'it always gets to the bottom of things!' -). The scientific man's declaration of independence, his emancipation from philosophy, is one of the more subtle effects of the democratic way of life (and death): this self-glorification and presumptuousness of the scholar is in the full bloom of spring, flowering everywhere youlook, - which isn't to say that this self-importance has a pleasant smell. 'Awaywithall masters!' - that's what the rabble instinct wants, even here. And now that science has been so utterly successful in fending off theology, after having been its 'handmaiden' for far too long, it is so high in spirits and low on sense that it wants to lay down laws for philosophy and, for once, play at being 'master' - what am I saying! play at being philosopher . My memory (the memory of a scientific man, if you will!) is teeming with the arrogantly naive comments about philosophy and philosophers that I have heard from young natural scientists and old physicians (not to 'Showing one's wounds.' Beyond Good and Evil"}
{"text": "mention from the most erudite and conceited scholars of all, the philologists and schoolmen, who are both by profession -). Sometimes it was the specialists and the pigeon-hole dwellers who instinctively resisted all synthetic tasks and skills; at other times it was the diligent workers who smelled the otium and the noble opulence of the philosopher's psychic economy and consequently felt themselves restricted and belittled. Sometimes it was that color-blindness of utilitarian-minded people who considered philosophy to be just a series of refuted systems and a wasteful expenditure that never did anybody 'any good.' Sometimes a fear of disguised mysticism and changes to the limits of knowledge sprang up; at other times, there was disdain for particular philosophers that had unwittingly become a disdain for philosophy in general. In the end, I have found that what usually lies behind young scholars' arrogant devalorizations of philosophy is the nasty after-effect of some philosopher himself. These scholars had, for the most part, stopped listening to this philosopher, but without having emerged from under the spell of his dismissive valuations of other philosophers: - and this resulted in a generalized ill will against all philosophy. (The after-affects of Schopenhauer on Germany in the most recent past seem to me an example of this sort of thing: - with his unintelligent ranting against Hegel, he has caused the whole of the last generation of Germans to break off its ties to German culture, a culture that, all things considered, represented a supreme and divinatory refinement of the historical sense . But Schopenhauer was himself impoverished, insensitive, un-German to the point of genius on precisely this point.) Looking at the overall picture, the damage done to the respectability of philosophy might be primarily due to the human, all-too-human, and, in short, miserable condition of more recent philosophy itself, which has held open the door to the rabble instinct. We have to admit the degree to which our modern world has departed from the whole Heraclitean, Platonic, Empedoclean type (or whatever names all these princely and magnificent hermits of the spirit might have had); and with what justice a worthy man of science can feel that he is of a better type and a better lineage, given the sort of representatives of philosophy who, thanks to current fashions, are just as much talked up these days as they are washed up"}
{"text": "(in Germany, for instance, the two lions of Berlin: the anarchist Eugen Duhring and the amalgamist Eduard von Hartmann). And Leisure."}
{"text": "especially those hodgepodge philosophers who call themselves 'philosophers of reality' or 'positivists' - just the sight of them is enough to instill a dangerous mistrust in the soul of an ambitious young scholar. They are, at best, scholars and specialists themselves - you can just feel it! They have all been defeated but then brought back under the domination of science; they had wanted something more of themselves at one time (without any right to this 'more' and its responsibility) - and now, in word and in deed, they respectably, wrathfully, vengefully represent a skepticism concerning philosophy's master task and authority. In the end: how could it be any other way! Science is thriving these days, its good conscience shines in its face; meanwhile whatever state recent philosophy has gradually sunk to, whatever is left of philosophy today, inspires mistrust and displeasure, if not ridicule and pity. A philosophy reduced to 'epistemology,' which is really no more than a timid epochism and doctrine of abstinence; a philosophy that does not even get over the threshold and scrupulously denies itself the right of entry - that is a philosophy in its last gasps, an end, an agony, something to be pitied. How could such a philosophy dominate ?"}
{"text": "There are so many different kinds of dangers involved in the development of a philosopher these days that it can be doubted whether this fruit is still capable of ripening at all. The height and width of the tower of science have grown to be so monstrously vast that the philosopher is that much more likely to become exhausted before he has even finished his education, or to let himself grab hold of something and 'specialize.' And so he is never at his best, never reaches a high point in his development from which he would be able to look over, look around, and look down . Or he gets there too late, when he is already past his prime and his strength has started to fade; or he gets there disabled, having become coarse and degenerate, so that his gaze, his overall value judgment is largely meaningless. Perhaps the very refinement of his intellectual conscience lets him hesitate and be slowed down while underway; he is afraid of being seduced into becoming a dilettante, a millipede with a thousand feet and a thousand feelers; he knows too well that someone who has lost his self-respect will nolongercommandor lead , even in the field of knowledge: unless he wants to become a great actor, a philosophical Cagliostro and rabble-rouser of Beyond Good and Evil"}
{"text": "spirits, in short, a seducer. In the end, this is a question of taste, even if it is not a question of conscience. And just to double the philosopher's difficulties again, there is the additional fact that he demands a judgment of himself, a Yes or a No, not about science but about life and the value of life. It is only with reluctance that he comes to believe he has a right or even a duty to render this sort of a judgment, and he has to draw on the most wide-ranging (and perhaps the most disturbing and destructive) experiences so that he can look - hesitantly, skeptically, silently - for a path to this right and this belief. In fact, the masses have misjudged and mistaken the philosopher for a long time, sometimes confusing him with the scientific man and ideal scholar, and sometimes with the religiously elevated, desensualized, desecularized enthusiasts and intoxicated men of God. If you hear anyone praised these days for living 'wisely' or 'like a philosopher' it basically just means he is 'clever and keeps out of the way.' To the rabble, wisdom seems like a kind of escape, a device or trick for pulling yourself out of the game when things get rough. But the real philosopher (and isn't this how it seems to us , my friends?) lives 'unphilosophically,' 'unwisely,' in a manner which is above all not clever , and feels the weight and duty of a hundred experiments and temptations of life: - he constantly puts himself at risk, he plays the rough game ..."}
{"text": "Compared to a genius, which is to say: compared to a being that either begets or gives birth (taking both words in their widest scope -), the scholar, the average man of science, is somewhat like an old maid. Like her, he has no expertise in the two most valuable acts performed by humanity. And, as a sort of compensation, both the scholar and the old maid are admitted to be respectable - respectability is always emphasized - although in both cases we are annoyed by the obligatory nature of this admission. Let us look more closely: what is the scientific man? In the first place, he is an ignoble type of person with the virtues that an ignoble type will have: this type is not dominant, authoritative, or self-sufficient. He is industrious, he is patiently lined up in an orderly array, he is regular and moderate in his abilities and needs, he has an instinct for his own kind and for the needs of his kind. These needs include: that piece of In German: Versuchen und Versuchungen (see note ,p. above)."}
{"text": "independence and green pasture without which there is no quiet for him to work in, that claim to honor and acknowledgment (whose first and foremost presupposition is recognition and being recognizable -), that sunshine of a good name, that constant seal on his value and his utility which is needed, time and again, in order to overcome the inner mistrust that lies at the bottom of the heart of all dependent men and herd animals. It is only fair that the scholar has the diseases and bad habits of an ignoble type as well. He is full of petty jealousies and has eyes like a hawk for the base aspects of natures whose heights he cannot attain. He is friendly, but only like someone who lets himself go without letting himself really flow out; and just when he is standing in front of people who really do flow out, he will act all the more cold and reserved, - at times like this, his eye is like a smooth and unwilling lake that will no longer allow a single ripple of joy or sympathy. The worst and most dangerous thing that a scholar is capable of doing comes from his type's instinct for mediocrity: from that Jesuitism of mediocrity that instinctively works towards the annihilation of the exceptional man and tries to break every taut bow or - even better! - to unbend it. Unbending it with consideration, and, of course, a gentle hand -, unbending it with friendly pity: that is the true art of Jesuitism, which has always known how to introduce itself as a religion of pity. -"}
{"text": "Howevergratefullywemightapproachthe objective spirit - and who hasn't been sick to death at least once of everything subjective, with its damned ipsissimosity ! - nevertheless, in the end we even have to be cautious of our gratitude, and put an end to the exaggerated terms in which people have recently been celebrating the desubjectivization and depersonification of spirit, as if this were some sort of goal in itself, some sort of redemption or transfiguration. This kind of thing tends to happen within the pessimist school, which has reasons of its own for regarding 'disinterested knowing' with the greatest respect. The objective man who no longer swears or complains like the pessimist does, the ideal scholar who expresses the scientific instinct as it finally blossoms and blooms all the way (after things have gone partly or wholly wrong a thousand times over) - he is certainly Nietzsche's coinage from the Latin ' ipsissima ' meaning 'very own.' Beyond Good and Evil"}
{"text": "one of the most expensive tools there is: but he belongs in the hands of someone more powerful. He is only a tool, we will say: he is a mirror ,-he is not an 'end in himself.' The objective man is really a mirror: he is used to subordinating himself in front of anything that wants to be known, without any other pleasure than that of knowing, of 'mirroring forth.' He waits until something comes along and then spreads himself gently towards it, so that even light footsteps and the passing by of a ghostly being are not lost on his surface and skin. He has so thoroughly become a passageway and reflection of strange shapes and events, that whatever is left in him of a 'person' strikes him as accidental, often arbitrary, and still more often as disruptive. It takes an effort for him to think back on 'himself,' and he is not infrequently mistaken when he does. He easily confuses himself with others, he is wrong about his own basic needs, and this is the only respect in which he is crude and careless. Maybe his health is making him suffer, or the pettiness and provincial airs of a wife or a friend, or the lack of companions and company, - all right then, he makes himself think about his sufferings: but to no avail! His thoughts have already wandered off, towards more general issues, and by the next day he does not know how to help himself any more than he knew the day before. He has lost any serious engagement with the issue as well as the time to spend on it: he is cheerful, not for lack of needs but for lack of hands to grasp his neediness. Theobligingmannerinwhichhetypicallyapproaches things and experiences, the sunny and natural hospitality with which he accepts everything that comes at him, his type of thoughtless goodwill, of dangerous lack of concern for Yeses and Noes: oh, there are plenty of times when he has to pay for these virtues of his! - and being human, he all too easily becomes the caput mortuum of these virtues. If you want him to love or hate (I mean love and hate as a god, woman, or animal would understand the terms -) he will do what he can and give what he can. But do not be surprised if it is not much, - if this is where he comes across as fake, fragile, questionable, and brittle. His love is"}
{"text": "forced, his hatred artificial and more like un tour de force , a little piece of vanity and exaggeration. He is sincere only to the extent that he is allowed to be objective: he is 'nature' and 'natural' only in his cheerful totality. His mirror-like soul is forever smoothing itself out; it does not know how to affirm or negate any more. He does not command; and neither does he destroy. Worthless residue."}
{"text": "' Je ne m'eprise presque rien ,' he says with Leibniz: that presque should not be overlooked or underestimated! He is no paragon of humanity; he does not go in front of anyone or behind. In general, he puts himself at too great a distance to have any basis for choosing between good or evil. If people have mistaken him for a philosopher for so long, for a Caesar-like man who cultivates and breeds, for the brutal man of culture - then they have paid him much too high an honor and overlooked what is most essential about him, - he is a tool, a piece of slave (although, without a doubt, the most sublime type of slave) but nothing in himself, presque rien ! The objective person is a tool, an expensive measuring instrument and piece of mirror art that is easily injured and spoiled and should be honoredandprotected; but he is not a goal, not a departure or a fresh start, he is not the sort of complementary person in which the rest of existence justifies itself. He is not a conclusion - and still less a beginning, begetter or first cause; there is nothing tough, powerful or self-supporting that wants to dominate. Rather, he is only a gentle, brushed-off, refined, agile pot of forms, who first has to wait for some sort of content or substance in order 'to shape' himself accordingly, - he is generally a man without substance or content, a 'selfless' man. And consequently, in parenthesi , nothing for women. -"}
{"text": "When a philosopher these days makes it known that he is not a skeptic, - and I hope that this could be detected in the account of the objective spirit just given - everyone gets upset. People look at him apprehensively, they have so many questions, questions ... in fact, frightened eavesdroppers (and there are crowds of them these days) will begin to consider him dangerous. It is as if they could hear, in his rejection of skepticism, some sort of evil and ominous sound in the distance, as if a new explosive were being tested somewhere, a dynamite of the spirit, perhaps a newly discovered Russian nihiline , a pessimism bonae voluntatis that does not just say No or will No, but - the very thought is terrible! does No.Itis generally acknowledged nowadays that no tranquilizer or sedative works 'I despise almost nothing.' In lines that follow, presque means 'almost' and presque rien means 'almost nothing.' A neologism coined from 'nihilism.' Of goodwill. Beyond Good and Evil"}
{"text": "better against this type of 'goodwill' - a will to the actual, violent negation of life - than skepticism, the soft, sweet, soothing, poppy flower of skepticism; and even Hamlet is prescribed by physicians today as a protection against 'spirit' and its underground rumblings. 'Aren't people's ears already filled with enough bad sounds?' the skeptic asks, being a friend of peace and almost a type of security police: 'This subterranean Nois awful! Be quiet already, you pessimistic moles!' Which is to say: the skeptic, that gentle creature, is all too easily frightened. His conscience has been trained to jump at every no, or even at a decisive and hardened yes, and to feel it like a bite. Yes! and No! - this is contrary to morality, as far as he is concerned. Conversely, he loves to treat his virtues to a feast of noble abstinence, when, for instance, he says, with Montaigne: 'What do I know?'OrwithSocrates:'IknowthatIdon'tknowanything.'Or'Idon't trust myself here, there aren't any doors open to me.' Or: 'Even if one were open, why go in right away!' Or: 'What good are rash hypotheses? It might very well be good taste not to formulate any hypotheses at all. When something is crooked, do you people really need to straighten it right away? or plug something into every hole? Isn't there plenty of time for that? Doesn't time have plenty of time? Oh, you fiends, why can't you just wait a while? Even uncertainty has its charms, even the Sphinx is a Circe, even Circe was a philosopher.' - This is how a skeptic comforts himself; and it is true that he needs some comfort. Skepticism is the most spiritual expression of a certain complex physiological condition which in layman's terms is called weak nerves or a sickly constitution. It originates whenever races or classes that have been separated for a long time are suddenly and decisively interbred. The different standards and values, as it were, get passed down through the bloodline to the next generation where everything is in a state of restlessness, disorder, doubt, experimentation. The best forces have inhibitory effects, the virtues themselves do not let each other"}
{"text": "strengthen and grow, both body and soul lack a center of balance, a center of gravity and the assurance of a pendulum. But what is most profoundly sick and degenerate about such hybrids is the will : they no longer have any sense of independence in decision-making, or the bold feeling of pleasure in willing, - they doubt whether there is 'freedom of will,' even in their dreams. Our contemporary Europe, the site of an absurdly sudden experiment in the radical mixing of classes and consequently of races, is therefore skeptical from its heights to its depths, sometimes with that agile kind of skepticism that leaps impatiently and"}
{"text": "licentiously from one branch to another; at other times it is gloomy like a cloud overloaded with question-marks - and often sick to death of its will! Paralysis of the will: where won't you find this cripple today? And often how nicely dressed! How seductively dressed! This illness has the prettiest fancy-dress clothes and liar's outfits. And most of what presents itself in the shop windows these days as 'objectivity,' for instance, or 'scientificity,' ' l'art pour l'art ,' or 'pure, will-less knowing,' is only dressed-up skepticism and paralysis of the will, - I will vouch for this diagnosis of the European disease. - The disease of the will has spread unevenly across Europe. It appears greatest and most varied where the culture has been at home for the longest period of time; and it becomes increasingly faint to the extent that 'the barbarian' still - or once again asserts his rights under the sagging robes of occidental cultivation. This is why the will is most sick in present-day France, a fact which can be logically concluded as easily as it can be palpably felt. France has always had the brilliant historical sense to turn even disastrous changes of its spirit into something charming and seductive. Now, it clearly indicates its culturally dominant position within Europe by being the school and showcase for all the magic spells of skepticism. The strength to will and, in fact, a will to will at length, is somewhat more vigorous in Germany, and stronger in the north of Germany than in the center. It is considerably stronger in England, Spain, and Corsica; in one place it is bound up with apathy, in another, with hard heads, - not to mention Italy, which is too young to know what it wants, and which first needs to prove that it can will -. But it is the strongest of all and the most amazing in that vast intermediary zone where Europe, as it were, flows back into Asia: in Russia. There, the strength to will has been laid aside and stored up over a long time; there, the will is waiting threateningly (uncertain whether as a will of negation or of affirmation), to be discharged (to borrow a favorite term from today's physicists). More than just Indian wars and Asian intrigues might be needed to relieve Europe of its greatest danger - inner rebellions might be needed as"}
{"text": "well, the dispersion of the empire into small bodies, and, above all, the introduction of parliamentary nonsense, added to which would be the requirement that every man read his newspaper over breakfast. This is not something I am hoping for. I would prefer the opposite, - I mean the sort of increase in the threat Russia poses that 'Art for art's sake.'"}
{"text": "would force Europe into choosing to become equally threatening and, specifically, to acquire a single will by means of a new caste that would rule over Europe, a long, terrible will of its own, that could give itself millennia-long goals: - so that the long, spun-out comedy of Europe's petty provincialism and its dynastic as well as democratic fragmentation of the will could finally come to an end. The time for petty politics is over: the next century will bring the struggle for the domination of the earth - the compulsion to great politics."}
{"text": "The extent to which the new, warlike age that we Europeans have obviously entered into may, perhaps, also be favorable to the development of another, stronger type of skepticism - for the time being, I would like to restrict my remarks on this matter to a parable that the friends of German history will already understand. That completely unscrupulous devotee of tall, handsome grenadiers who, as king of Prussia, brought a military and skeptical genius into being (and with it, fundamentally, that new type of German which is only now approaching in triumph), the questionable, mad father of Frederick the Great, had the grasp and lucky claw of a genius too, although on one point only: he knew what was missing in Germany in those days, and which lack was a hundred times more urgent and anxiety-provoking than the lack of something like education or social decorum, - his dislike for young Frederick came from the anguish of a profound instinct. Men were lacking ; and he suspected, to his most bitter distress, that his own son was not man enough. He was wrong about this, but who wouldn't have been wrong in his place? He saw his son falling prey to atheism, esprit , and the entertaining, happy-go-lucky spirit of clever Frenchmen: he saw that enormous bloodsucker, the spider of skepticism, in the background, and he suspected the incurable misery of a heart that was no longer hard enough for evil or for good, of a shattered will that no longer commanded, that was no longer able to command. Meanwhile, however, a harsher and more dangerous new type of skepticism was growing in his son (and who knows how much it was encouraged precisely by his father's hatred and the icy melancholy of an isolated will?) - the Frederick William I."}
{"text": "skepticismofaboldmasculinity,whichismostcloselyrelatedtothegenius for war and conquest, and which first entered Germany in the shape of the great Frederick. This skepticism despises and nevertheless appropriates; it undermines and takes possession; it does not believe but does not die out on this account; it gives the spirit a dangerous freedom, but is severe on the heart. The German form of skepticism (being a continued Frederickianism that has been intensified to the most spiritual degree) has put Europe under the dominion of German spirit with its critical and historical mistrust for a long time. Thanks to the unyielding strength and tenacity in the masculine character of the great German philologists and critical historians (seen properly, they were also all artists of decay and destruction), and in spite of all the romanticism in music and philosophy, a new concept of the German spirit is gradually emerging, and it clearly tends towards a masculine skepticism: it might be the intrepidity of the gaze, the courage and severity of the dissecting hand, or the tenacious will to dangerous voyages of discovery, to spiritualized North Pole expeditions under desolate and dangerous skies. Warm-blooded and superficial humanitarians may have good reasons for crossing themselves in front of this spirit; cet esprit fataliste, ironique, m'ephistoph'elique as Michelet calls it, not without a shudder. But this 'man' in the German spirit, which has awoken Europe from its 'dogmatic slumber,' - if you want to understand how distinctive the fear of this 'man' really is, just remember the earlier conception that this one had to overcome, - and how it was not so long ago that a masculinized woman could dare, with boundless presumption, to commend the Germans to European sympathies as gentle, good-hearted, weak-willed, poetic fools. You can really understand Napoleon's surprise when he got to see Goethe: it showed what people had understood by the term 'German spirit' for centuries. ' Voil'a un homme! ' - which was to say: 'Now there's a man ! And I'd only expected a German!' - 'This fatalistic, ironical, Mephistophelian spirit.'"}
{"text": "An allusion to Kant's claim in the Prolegomena zu einer jeden k unftigen Metaphysik ( Prolegomena to any Future Metaphysics )( ) that Hume's empiricism awoke him from the dogmatic slumber of rationalism. Madame de Sta el in her De l'Allemagne ( On Germany )( ). See Goethe's Unterredung mit Napoleon ( Discussion with Napoleon )( October ). Beyond Good and Evil"}
{"text": "So, if something in the image of future philosophers makes us suspect that they will, perhaps, be skeptics (in the sense just mentioned), then it would only indicate some aspect of them and not who they themselves really are. Theycouldbecalledcriticswithequaljustification; and they will certainly be engaged in experiments. I have already laid particular emphasis on the notions of tempting, attempting, and the joy of experimenting in the name that I have dared to christen them with: is this because, as critics in body and soul, they love to experiment in a new, perhaps broader, perhaps more dangerous sense? In their passion for knowledge, won't they need to go further, with bold and painful experiments, than the faint-hearted, pampered taste of a democratic century can think proper? - Without a doubt: these coming philosophers will be least able to dispense with the qualities that distinguish the critic from the skeptic - qualities that are rather seriousandbynomeansharmless.Imean:thecertaintyofvaluestandards,the conscious implementation of a unity of method, a sly courage, a solitary stance, and capacity for responsibility. In fact, these philosophers admit to taking pleasure in saying no, in dissecting, and in a certain level-headed cruelty that knows how to guide a knife with assurance and subtlety, even when the heart is bleeding. They will be more severe (and perhaps not always with themselves alone) than humane people might wish them to be. They will not engage with 'truth' in such a way that it 'pleases' or 'elevates' or 'inspires' them; they will hardly believe that the truth ,of all things, would keep the feelings this amused. These severe spirits will smile when they hear someone say: 'This thought elevates me: how could it fail to be true?' Or: 'This work charms me: how could it fail to be beautiful?' Or: 'That artist ennobles me: how could he fail to be noble?' - they might be ready not just with a smile but with a genuine disgust for all these over-enthusiasms, idealisms, femininities, hermaphrodisms. And anyone who knows how to follow these spirits down into the secret chambers of their heart is not likely to discover any intention to reconcile 'Christian feelings' with 'ancient taste' or with anything like 'modern"}
{"text": "parliamentarianism' (although these sorts of conciliatory overtures are said to take place in our very uncertain and consequently very conciliatory century, even among philosophers). These philosophers of the future will demand (and not only of themselves) critical discipline and every habit that leads to cleanliness and rigor in matters of the spirit. They might even wear these"}
{"text": "like a type of jewel they have on display, - nevertheless, they still do not want to be called critics. They think it is no small disgrace for philosophy these days, when people are so happy to announce: 'Philosophy itself is criticism and critical science - and nothing else whatsoever!' However much all the French and German positivists might approve of this evaluation of philosophy (- and it might even have flattered Kant's heart and taste: just think of the titles of his major works -), our new philosophers will nevertheless say: critics are tools of philosophy and that is precisely why, being tools, they are so far from being philosophers! Even the great Chinaman of Konigsberg was only a great critic. -"}
{"text": "I am going to insist that people finally stop mistaking philosophical laborers and scientific men in general for philosophers, - that here, of all places, people be strict about giving 'each his due' and not too much to the one, and much too little to the other. In the course of his education, the genuine philosopher might have been required to stand on each of the steps where his servants, the philosophical scientific laborers, have come to a stop, - have had to come to a stop. Perhaps the philosopher has had to be a critic and a skeptic and a dogmatist and historian and, moreover, a poet and collector and traveler and guesser of riddles and moralist and seer and 'free spirit' and practically everything, in order to run through the range of human values and value feelings and be able to gaze with many eyes and consciences from the heights into every distance, from the depths up to every height, from the corner onto every expanse. But all these are only preconditions for his task: the task itself has another will, it calls for him to create values . The project for philosophical laborers on the noble model of Kant and Hegel is to establish some large class of given values (which is to say: values that were once posited and created but have come to dominate and have been called 'truths' for a long time) and press it into formulas, whether in the realm of logic or politics (morality) or art . It is up to these researchers to make everything that has happened or been valued so far look clear, obvious, comprehensible, and manageable, to abbreviate everything long, even 'time' itself, and to overwhelm the entire past. This is an enormous and wonderful task, in whose service any subtle An allusion to Kant, who spent his life in K onigsberg. Beyond Good and Evil"}
{"text": "pride or tough will can certainly find satisfaction. But true philosophers are commanders and legislators : they say 'That is how it should be!' they are the ones who first determine the 'where to?' and 'what for?' of people, which puts at their disposal the preliminary labor of all philosophical laborers, all those who overwhelm the past. True philosophers reach for the future with a creative hand and everything that is and was becomes a means, a tool, a hammer for them. Their 'knowing' is creating , their creating is a legislating, their will to truth is will to power . - Are there philosophers like this today? Have there ever been philosophers like this? Won't there have to be philosophers like this? ..."}
{"text": "It seems increasingly clear to me that the philosopher, being necessarily a person of tomorrow and the day after tomorrow, has, in every age, been and has needed to be at odds with his today: his enemy has always been the ideal of today. So far, all these extraordinary patrons of humanity who are called philosophers (and who have seldom felt like friends of wisdom, but like disagreeable fools and dangerous question-marks instead -) have found that their task, their harsh, unwanted, undeniable task (though in the end, the greatness of their task) lay in being the bad conscience of their age. In applying a vivisecting knife directly to the chest of the virtues of the age , they gave away their own secret: to know a new greatness in humanity, a new, untraveled path to human greatness. Every time they have done this, they have shown how much hypocrisy and laziness, how much letting yourself go and letting go of yourself, how many lies are hidden beneath the most highly honored type of their present-day morality, and how much virtue is out of date . Every time, they have said: 'We need to go there, out there, out where you feel least at home today.' When encountering a world of 'modern ideas' which would gladly banish everyone into a corner and 'specialization,' a philosopher (if there could be philosophers today) would be compelled to locate the greatness of humanity, the concept of 'greatness,' in the very scope and variety of humanity, in its unity in multiplicity. He would determine even value and rank according to how much and how many things someone could carry and take upon himself, how far someone could stretch his responsibility. Today, the will is weakened and diluted by the tastes and virtues of the times, and nothing is as timely as weakness of will: this is why precisely strength of will and"}
{"text": "the hardness and capacity for long-term resolutions must belong to the concept of 'greatness,' in the philosopher's ideal. With equal justice, the opposite doctrine and the ideal of a stupid, self-abnegating, humble, selfless humanity was suited to an opposite age, to an age like the sixteenth century that suffered from its accumulated energy of the will and from the most savage floods and storm tides of egoism. In the age of Socrates, among honest people with tired instincts, among conservatives of ancient Athens who let themselves go - 'toward happiness,' as they put it, toward pleasure, as they did it - and who kept mouthing old, magnificent words (words that they had absolutely no right to use any more, given the lives they were leading), - here, perhaps, irony was needed for greatness of soul, that malicious, Socratic certainty of the old physician and man of the rabble who cut brutally into his own flesh like he cut into the flesh and heart of the 'noble,' with a glance that spoke clearly enough: 'Don't act some part in front of me! Here - we are equals!' These days, by contrast, when only the herd animal gets and gives honor in Europe, when 'equal rights' could all too easily end up as equal wrongs (I mean, in waging a joint war on everything rare, strange, privileged, on the higher man, higher soul, higher duty, higher responsibility, on creative power and mastery) these days, the concept of 'greatness' will include: being noble, wanting to be for yourself, the ability to be different, standing alone and needing to live by your own fists. And the philosopher will be revealing something of his own ideal when he proposes: 'Greatest of all is the one who can be the mostsolitary, the most hidden, the most different, the person beyond good and evil, the master of his virtues, the one with an abundance of will. Only this should be called greatness : the ability to be just as multiple as whole, just as wide as full.' And to ask once again: is greatness possible today?"}
{"text": "It is difficult to learn what a philosopher is, because it cannot be taught: you have to 'know' by experience, - or you should be proud that you do not know it at all. But nowadays everyone talks about things that they cannot experience, and most especially (and most terribly) when it comes to philosophers and philosophical matters. Hardly anyone knows about them or is allowed to know, and all popular opinions about them are false. So, for instance, the genuinely philosophical compatibility between a bold and lively spirituality that runs along at a presto , and a dialectical rigor and Beyond Good and Evil"}
{"text": "necessity that does not take a single false step - this is an experience most thinkers and scholars would find unfamiliar and, if someone were to mention it, unbelievable. They think of every necessity as a need, a painstaking having-to-follow and being-forced; and they consider thinking itself as something slow and sluggish, almost a toil and often enough 'worth the sweat of the noble.' Not in their wildest dreams would they think of it as light, divine, and closely related to dance and high spirits! 'Thinking' and 'treating an issue seriously,' 'with gravity' - these belong together, according to most thinkers and scholars: that is the only way they have 'experienced' it -. Artists might have a better sense of smell even in this matter: they are the ones who know only too well that their feeling of freedom, finesse and authority, of creation, formation, and control only reaches its apex when they have stopped doing anything 'voluntarily' and instead do everything necessarily, - in short, they know that inside themselves necessity and 'freedom of the will' have become one. In the last analysis, there is a rank order of psychic states which corresponds to the rank order of problems; and the highest problems will ruthlessly repel anyone who dares to get close without being predestined by sheer stature and power of spirituality to reach a solution. What good is it if, as happens so often these days, agile, ordinary minds or clumsy, worthy mechanists and empiricists throng with their plebeian ambition to these problems and into, as it were, the 'inner courtyard'! But crude feet would never be allowed on a carpet like this: this has already been provided for in the primordial laws of things. The door will stay barred against these intruders, however much they push or pound their heads against it! You need to have been born for any higher world; to say it more clearly, you need to have been bred for it: only your descent, your ancestry can give you a right to philosophy - taking that word in its highest sense. Even here, 'bloodline' is decisive. The preparatory labor of many generations is needed for a philosopher to come about; each of his virtues needs to have been individually acquired, cared for, passed down, and incorporated: and not only the bright, light, gentle gait and course of his thoughts, but above all the eagerness for great responsibilities, the sovereignty of"}
{"text": "his ruling gazes and downward gazes, the feeling of separation from the crowd with its duties and virtues, the genial protection and defense of anything misunderstood and slandered, whether it is god or devil, the pleasure and practice in great justice, the art of command, the expanse of the will, the slow eye that hardly ever admires, hardly ever looks up, hardly ever loves ..."}
{"text": "Our virtues? - We probably still have our virtues too, although of course they will not be those trusting and muscular virtues for which we hold our grandfathers in honor - but also slightly at arm's length. We Europeans from the day after tomorrow, we firstborn of the twentieth century, - with all of our dangerous curiosity, our diversity and art of disguises, our wornout and, as it were, saccharine cruelty in sense and in spirit, if wehappen to have virtues, they will presumably only be the ones that have learned best how to get along with our most secret and heartfelt propensities, with our most fervent desires. So let us look for them in our labyrinths! where, as we know, so many things lose their way, so many things get entirely lost. And is there anything more beautiful than looking for your own virtues? Doesn't this almost mean: believing in your own virtue? But this 'believing in your own virtue' - isn't this basically what people used to call their 'good conscience,' that venerable, long-haired pigtail of a concept that hung on the back of our grandfathers' heads, and often enough behind their intellects too? And so it seems that however up-to-date and unworthy of grandfatherly honor we might otherwise appear, there is nevertheless one respect in which we are the worthy grandchildren of these grandfathers, we last Europeans with a good conscience: we still wear their pigtail. - Oh! If you knew how soon, so soon now - things will be different! ... Beyond Good and Evil"}
{"text": "Just as in the celestial realm, the track of one planet will sometimes be determined by two suns; just as, in certain cases, suns of different colors will shine on a single planet with red light one moment and green light the next, and then strike it again, inundating it with many colors all at once: in the same way, thanks to the complex mechanics of our 'starry skies,' we modern men are determined by a diversity of morals; our actions shine with different colors in turn, they are rarely unambiguous, - and it happens often enough that we perform multi-colored actions."}
{"text": "To love your enemies? I think this has been learned quite well: it happens thousands of times these days, in large and small ways; in fact, something even higher and more sublime happens every once in a while - we learn to despise when we love and precisely when we love the most. But all of this is unconscious, noiseless, lacking in pomp or pageantry but possessing that shame and concealed goodness which forbids the mouth from using any solemn words or virtuous formulas. Morality as posturing - offends our taste these days. This is progress too, just as it was progress for our fathers when religion as posturing finally offended their taste, including the hostility and Voltairean bitterness towards religion (and everything that used to belong to the sign language of free spirits). No puritan litany, moral homily, or petty bourgeois respectability wants to resonate with the music in our conscience and the dance in our spirit."}
{"text": "Watch out for people who put a high value on being credited with moral tact and with subtlety in making moral distinctions! They will never forgive us if they ever make a mistake in front of us (or especially about us), - they will inevitably become our instinctive slanderers and detractors, even if they still remain our 'friends.' Blessed are the forgetful: for they will 'have done' with their stupidities too."}
{"text": "The French psychologists - and where else are there still psychologists today? - have never grown tired of their bitter and manifold delight in"}
{"text": "the betise bourgeoise , somewhat as if ... enough, this reveals something about them. For instance, Flaubert, the good citizen of Rouen, ultimately stopped seeing, hearing, or tasting anything else: this was his brand of self-torture and subtler cruelty. Now - because this is getting boring - I recommend another source of amusement for a change: the unconscious cunning that all good, fat, well-behaved, mediocre spirits have shown towards higher spirits and their tasks, that subtle, intricate, Jesuitical cunning that is a thousand times more subtle than any taste or understanding evinced by this middle class in its best moments - it is even more subtle than its victims' understanding (which is on-going proof that 'instinct' is the most intelligent type of intelligence discovered so far). In short, you psychologists should study the philosophy of the 'rule' in its struggle against the 'exception': there you will see drama good enough for gods and divine malice! Or, to be even more up to date: vivisect the 'good man,' the ' homo bonae voluntatis ' ... yourselves !"}
{"text": "Moral judgment and condemnation is the favorite revenge of the spiritually limited on those who are less so, as well as a type of compensation for having been slighted by nature, and an opportunity to finally acquire spirit and become refined: - malice spiritualizes. It warms the bottom of their hearts for there to be a standard that makes them the equal of even people who are teeming with all the qualities and privileges of spirit: - they fight for the 'equality of all before God' and almost need to believe in God for this reason alone. Among them are the strongest opponents of atheism. If anyone were to tell them that 'a high spirituality is beyond comparison with any sort of good behavior or worthiness of a merely moral man,' they would be livid: - I certainly would not do it. I would rather flatter them by claiming that a high spirituality is itself only the final, monstrous product of moral qualities; that it is a synthesis of all the states attributed to the 'merely moral' men after they had been acquired individually, through long discipline and practice, perhaps through whole series of generations; that high spirituality is just the spiritualization of justice and a benevolent severity that knows how to charge itself with the preservation of the Bourgeois stupidity. 'Man of goodwill.'"}
{"text": "order of rank in the world among things themselves - and not just among people."}
{"text": "Given the popularity of the term 'disinterested' in praising people these days, we need to be aware (although this might prove dangerous) of what it is that really interests the people and what sorts of things the common man cares truly and deeply about (including educated people and even scholars and, unless I am badly mistaken, the philosophers as well). The fact then emerges that the overwhelming majority of things that interest and appeal to the more refined and discriminating tastes, to every higher nature, will strike the average person as utterly 'uninteresting.' If he notices a devotion to it anyway, then he calls it ' d'esint'eress'e ' and wonders how it is possible to act in a 'disinterested' fashion. There have been philosophers whohaveevenknownhowtoexpressthispopularperplexityinaseductive and mystico-otherworldly way (- perhaps because they did not have firsthand knowledge of higher natures?) - instead of laying down the naked and fully proper truth that a 'disinterested' action is a very interesting and interested action, provided ... 'And love?' - What? Even an action done out of love is supposed to be 'unegoistic'? But you fools-!'And praise for the self-sacrificing?' But anyone who has really made sacrifices knows that he wanted and got something in return, - perhaps something of himself in return for something of himself - that he gave up here in order to have more there, perhaps in order to be more in general, or just to feel like 'more.' But this is a realm of questions and answers in which a more discriminating spirit will not want to stay for very long: the truth is already desperate to keep herself from yawning when she is required to respond. In the end, she is a woman: we should not do violence to her."}
{"text": "'It sometimes happens,' said a moralistic pedant and stickler for detail, 'that I honor and esteem an altruistic person. Not because he is altruistic, however, but because it seems to me that he has the right to help another person at his own expense. Enough, it is always a question of who he is and whothat other is. For instance, in a person who was made and determined for command, self-denial and modest retreat would not be a virtue but"}
{"text": "the waste of a virtue: that is how it seems to me. Every unegoistic morality that considers itself unconditional and is directed toward everyone does not just sin against taste: it is a provocation to sins of omission, and one more temptation under a mask of benevolence - a temptation and injury to precisely the higher, the rarer, the privileged. Morals must be compelled fromthevery start to bow before rank order , their presumptuousness must be forced onto their conscience, - until they are finally in agreement with each other that it is immoral to say: 'What's right for the one is fair for the other.' ' - So says my moralistic pedant and bonhomme : does he really deserve to be laughed at for urging morals to morality in this way? But you should not be too right if you want to get a laugh; a kernel of wrong belongs to even a good taste."}
{"text": "Whereverpityispreachedthesedays-andifyouarelisteningproperly,no other religion is preached any more - let the psychologist open up his ears. Through all the vanity, through all the noise that this preacher (like all preachers) intrinsically possesses, the psychologist will hear the genuine, rasping, groaning sound of self-hatred . This self-hatred belongs to the darkeningandincreasinguglinessof Europe,whichhavebeengrowingfor a hundred years now (and whose first symptoms were already documented in Galiani's thought-provoking letter to Madame d'Epinay): if it is not the cause! The man of 'modern ideas,' this proud ape, is exceedingly unhappy with himself: this is clear. He suffers: and his vanity would have it that he only pities ..."}
{"text": "The hybrid mixed man of Europe - a fairly ugly plebeian, all in all absolutely must have a costume: he needs history as a storage closet of costumes. Of course, he notices that nothing really looks right on him, he keeps changing. Just look at these rapid preferences and changes in the masquerade of styles over the course of the nineteenth century; and at the momentsofdespairoverthefactthat'nothingsuits'us-.Itis pointless to Good man. In German: mit leidet (literally: 'suffers with'). Here as elsewhere, Nietzsche is playing on the similarities between the terms leiden (to suffer) and Mitleid (pity)."}
{"text": "dress up as romantic or classical or Christian or Florentine or Baroque or 'national,' in moribus et artibus : it 'doesn't look good'! But the 'spirit,' and particularly the 'historical spirit,' finds that even this despair is to its own advantage: again and again, a new piece of prehistory or foreign country will be tried out, turned over, filed away, packed up, and above all studied . Wearethefirstagetobeeducated in puncto of 'costumes,'Imean of morals, articles of faith, artistic tastes, and religions, and prepared as no age has ever been for a carnival in the grand style, for the most spiritually carnivalesque laughter and high spirits, for the transcendental heights of the highest inanity and Aristophanean world mockery. Perhaps it's that we still discover a realm of our invention here, a realm where we can still be original too, as parodists of world history or buffoons of God, or something like that, - perhaps it's that, when nothing else from today has a future, our laughter is the one thing that does!"}
{"text": "The historical sense (or the ability quickly to guess the rank order of the valuations that a people, a society, an individual has lived by, the 'divinatory instinct' for the connections between these valuations, for the relationship between the authority of values and the authority of effective forces): this historical sense that we Europeans claim as our distinguishing characteristic comes to us as a result of that enchanting and crazy half-barbarism into which Europe has been plunged through the democratic mixing of classes and races, - only the nineteenth century sees this sense as its sixth sense. Thanks to this mixture, the past of every form and way of life, of cultures that used to lie side by side or on top of each other, radiates into us, we 'modern souls.' At this point, our instincts are running back everywhere and we ourselves are a type of chaos -. 'Spirit,' as I have said, eventually finds that this is to its own advantage. Because of the half-barbarism in our bodies and desires, we have secret entrances everywhere, like no noble age has ever had, and, above all, access to the labyrinths of unfinished cultures and to every half-barbarism that has ever existed on earth. And since the most considerable part of human culture to date has been just such half-barbarism, the 'historical sense' practically amounts to a sense and In customs and arts. With respect to."}
{"text": "instinct for everything, a taste and tongue for everything: by which it immediately shows itself to be an ignoble sense. For instance, we are enjoying Homer again: knowing how to taste Homer might be our greatest advantage, one that people from a noble culture (such as seventeenth-century Frenchmen, like Saint-Evremond, who reproached Homer for an esprit vaste , and even Voltaire, their concluding note) do not and did not find very easy to acquire - and one that they would hardly allow themselves to enjoy. The very precise Yes and No of their palate, their ready disgust, their hesitant reserve about everything strange or exotic, their fear of the poor taste of even a lively curiosity, and in general that unwillingness seen in every noble and self-sufficient culture to admit to itself a new lust, a dissatisfaction with its own, an admiration of something foreign: all this prejudices a noble culture and puts it at odds with even the best things in the world, if they are not its property and could not become its spoils. And no sense is more incomprehensible to such people than precisely this historical sense with its obsequious plebeian curiosity. It is no different with Shakespeare, that amazing Spanish-Moorish-Saxon synthesis of tastes that would have almost killed one of Aeschylus' ancient Athenian friends with either rage or laughter: but we - accept precisely this wild burst of colors, this confusion of the most delicate, the crudest, and the most artificial with a secret familiarity and warmth. We enjoy him as the artistic refinement that has been reserved just for us, and meanwhile we do not let ourselves be bothered by the noxious fumes and the proximity of the English rabble in which Shakespeare's art and taste lives, any more than we do on the Chiaja of Naples, for instance: where we go on our way with all of our senses, enchanted and willing, however much the sewers of the rabble districts are in the air. We men of 'historical sense,' we do have our virtues - this cannot be denied. We are unassuming, selfless, modest, brave, full of self-overcoming, full of dedication, very grateful, very patient, very accommodating: - but for all that we are, perhaps, not very 'tasteful.' Finally, let us admit to ourselves: what we men of 'historical sense' find the most difficult to grasp,"}
{"text": "to feel, to taste again and love again, what we are fundamentally biased against and almost hostile towards, is just that perfected and newly ripened aspect of every art and culture, the genuinely noble element in works and people, their moment of smooth seas and halcyon self-sufficiency, the gold and the coldness Enormous spirit. Beyond Good and Evil seen in all things that have perfected themselves. Perhaps our great virtue of historical sense is necessarily opposed to good taste, at least to the very best taste, and it is only poorly and haltingly, only with effort that we are able to reproduce in ourselves the trivial as well as greatest serendipities and transfigurations of human life as they light up every now and then: those moments and marvels when a great force stands voluntarily still in front of the boundless and limitless -, the enjoyment of an abundance of subtle pleasure in suddenly harnessing and fossilizing, in settling down and establishing yourself on ground that is still shaking. Moderation is foreign to us, let us admit this to ourselves; our thrill is precisely the thrill of the infinite, the unmeasured. Like the rider on a steed snorting to go further onward, we let the reins drop before the infinite, we modern men, we half-barbarians - and we feel supremely happy only when we are in the most danger ."}
{"text": "Hedonism, pessimism, utilitarianism, eudamonianism: these are all ways of thinking that measure the value of things according to pleasure and pain , which is to say according to incidental states and trivialities. They are all foreground ways of thinking and naivet'es, and nobody who is conscious of both formative powers and an artist's conscience will fail to regard them with scorn as well as pity. Pity for you ! That is certainly not pity as you understand it: it is not pity for social 'distress,' for 'society' with its sick and injured, for people depraved and destroyed from the beginning as they lie around us on the ground; even less is it pity for the grumbling, dejected, rebellious slave strata who strive for dominance - they call it 'freedom.' Our pity is a higher, more far-sighted pity: - we see how humanity is becoming smaller, how you are making it smaller! - and there are moments when we look on your pity with indescribable alarm, when we fight this pity -, when we find your seriousness more dangerous than any sort of thoughtlessness. You want, if possible (and no 'if possible' is crazier) to abolish suffering . And us? - it looks as though we would prefer it to be heightened and made even worse than it has ever been! Well-being as you understand it - that is no goal; it looks to us like an end ! - a condition that immediately renders people ridiculous and despicable - that makes their decline into something desirable ! The discipline of suffering, of great suffering - don't you know that this discipline has"}
{"text": "been the sole cause of every enhancement in humanity so far? The tension that breeds strength into the unhappy soul, its shudder at the sight of great destruction, its inventiveness and courage in enduring, surviving, interpreting, and exploiting unhappiness, and whatever depth, secrecy, whatever masks, spirit, cunning, greatness it has been given: - weren't these the gifts of suffering, of the disciple of great suffering? In human beings, creature and creator are combined: in humans there is material, fragments, abundance, clay, dirt, nonsense, chaos; but in humans there is also creator, maker, hammer-hardness, spectator-divinity and seventh day: - do you understand this contrast? And that your pity is aimed at the 'creature in humans,' at what needs to be molded, broken, forged, torn, burnt, seared and purified, - at what necessarily needs to suffer and should suffer? And our pity - don't you realize who our inverted pity is aimed at when it fights against your pity as the worst of all pampering and weaknesses? - Pity against pity, then! - But to say it again: there are problems that are higher than any problems of pleasure, pain, or pity; and any philosophy that stops with these is a piece of naivet'e. -"}
{"text": "We immoralists! - This world as it concerns us , in which we need to love and be afraid, this almost invisible, inaudible world of subtle command, subtle obedience, a world of the 'almost' in every respect, twisted, tricky, barbed, and loving: yes, it is well defended against clumsy spectators and friendly curiosity! We have been woven into a strong net and shirt of duties, and cannot get out of it -, in this sense we are 'people of duty,' even us! It is true that we sometimes dance quite well in our 'chains' and between our 'swords'; it is no less true that more often we grind our teeth and feel impatient at all the secret harshness of our fate. But we can do as we please: fools and appearances will speak up against us, claiming 'those are people without duties' - fools and appearances are always against us! Genuine honesty, assuming that this is our virtue and we cannot get rid of it, we free spirits - well then, we will want to work on it with all the In German: Redlichkeit . Beyond Good and Evil"}
{"text": "love and malice at our disposal, and not get tired of 'perfecting' ourselves in our virtue, the only one we have left: may its glory come to rest like a gilded, blue evening glow of mockery over this aging culture and its dull and dismal seriousness! And if our genuine honesty nevertheless gets tired one day and sighs and stretches its limbs and finds us too harsh and would rather things were better, easier, gentler, like an agreeable vice: we will stay harsh , we, who are the last of the Stoics! And we will help it out with whatever devilishness we have - our disgust at clumsiness and approximation, our ' nitimur in vetitum ,' our adventurer's courage, our sly and discriminating curiosity, our subtlest, most hidden, most spiritual will to power and world-overcoming which greedily rambles and raves over every realm of the future, - we will bring all of our 'devils' to help out our 'god'! People will probably misjudge us and misconstrue us on account of this: so what! People will say: 'this 'genuine honesty' this is devilishness and absolutely nothing else!' So what! And even if they were right! Haven't all gods so far been devils like this, who have became holy and been re-baptized? And, ultimately, what do we know about ourselves? And what the spirit that leads us wants to be called ? (It is a question of names.) And how many spirits we are hiding? Our genuine honesty, we free spirits, - let us make sure that it does not become our vanity, our pomp and finery, our limitation, our stupidity! Every virtue tends towards stupidity, every stupidity towards virtue; 'stupid to the point of holiness' they say in Russia, - let us make sure we do not end up becoming saints or tedious bores out of genuine honesty! Isn't life a hundred times too short to be bored? You would have to believe in eternal life in order to ..."}
{"text": "Youwill have to forgive me for having discovered that all moral philosophy so far has been boring and should be classified as a soporific - and that nothing has done more to spoil 'virtue' for my ears than this tediousness of its advocates; although I would not want to underestimate their general utility. It is quite important that as few people as possible think about morality - consequently, it is really quite important for morality not to somehowturninteresting one of these days! But there is no need to worry! 'We strive for the forbidden' from Ovid's Amores, III, , . Our virtues"}
{"text": "Things today are the same as they have always been: I don't see anyone in Europe who has (or conveys ) any idea that moral deliberation could be dangerous, insidious, seductive - that it could be disastrous ! Just look at the indefatigable, unavoidable English utilitarians, for example, how awkwardly and honorably they walk in Bentham's footsteps, wandering to, wandering fro (a Homeric simile says it better), just as he himself had walked in the footsteps of the honorable Helv'etius (no, this was not a dangerous man, this Helv'etius!). No new thoughts, no sign of any subtle change or fold in an old thought, not even a real history of the earlier thought: an impossible literature on the whole, unless you know how to sour it with some malice. That old English vice called cant , which is a piece of moral tartufferie , has insinuated itself into these moralists too (who have to be read with ulterior motives, if they have to be read at all -), hidden this time under a new form: science. And there is no lack of secret defenses against all the bites of conscience that will afflict a race of former Puritans whenever they deal with morality on a scientific level. (Isn't a moralist the opposite of a Puritan? A thinker, that is, who treats morality as something questionable, question-mark-able, in short, as a problem? Shouldn't moralists be - immoral?) Ultimately, they all want English morality to be given its dues: since it is best for humanity, for the 'general utility' or 'the happiness of the majority' - no! the happiness of England . They want, with all the strength they can muster, to prove to themselves that striving for English happiness, I mean for comfort and fashion (and, at the highest level, for a seat in Parliament), is the proper path to virtue as well, and, in fact, that whatever virtue has existed in the world so far has involved just this sort of striving. Not one of these clumsy, conscience-stricken herd animals (who set out to treat egoism as a matter of general welfare -) wants to know or smell anything of the fact that 'general welfare' is no ideal, no goal, not a concept that can somehow be"}
{"text": "grasped, but only an emetic; - that what is right for someone absolutely cannot be right for someone else; that the requirement that there be a single morality for everyone is harmful precisely to the higher men; in short, that there is an order of rank between people, and between moralities as well. They are a modest and thoroughly mediocre type of person, these utilitarian Englishmen, but, as I have said: to the extent Nietzsche uses the English word. Nietzsche uses the English words 'comfort' and 'fashion.' Beyond Good and Evil that they are boring, we cannot think highly enough of their utility. They should even be encouraged : as the following rhymes try, in part, to do. Good barrow pushers, we salute you, 'More is best' will always suit you, Always stiff in head and knee, Lacking spirit, humor too, Mediocre through and through, Sans genie et sans esprit !"}
{"text": "Mature epochs that have the right to be proud of their humanity are still so full of fear, so full of superstitious fear of the 'cruel and wild beast' (although the pride these more humane ages feel is actually caused by their mastery of this beast), that even obvious truths remain unspoken for centuries, as if by agreement, because they have the appearance of helping bring the wild beast back to life after it had finally been killed off. Perhaps I am taking a risk in allowing a truth like this to escape: let other people recapture it and make it drink the 'milk of pious reflection' until it lies quiet and forgotten in its old corner. - People should rethink their ideas about cruelty and open up their eyes; they should finally learn impatience, so that big, fat, presumptuous mistakes like this will stop wandering virtuously and audaciously about. An example of this is the mistaken ideas about tragedy that have been nurtured by both ancient and modern philosophers. This is my claim: almost everything we call 'higher culture' is based on the spiritualization and deepening of cruelty . The 'wild animal' has not been killed off at all; it is alive and well, it has just - become divine. Cruelty is what constitutes the painful sensuality of tragedy. And what pleases us in so-called tragic pity as well as in everything sublime, up to the highest and most delicate of metaphysical tremblings, derives its sweetness exclusively from the intervening component of cruelty. Consider the Roman in the arena, Christ in the rapture of the cross, the Spaniard at the sight of the stake or the bullfight, the present-day Japanese flocking to tragedies, the Parisian suburban laborer who is homesick for bloody revolutions, the Wagnerienne who unfastens 'Without genius and without spirit.'"}
{"text": "her will and lets Tristan und Isolde 'wash over her' - what they all enjoy and crave with a mysterious thirst to pour down their throats is 'cruelty,' the spiced drink of the great Circe. We clearly need to drive out the silly psychology of the past; the only thing this psychology was able to teach about cruelty was that it originated from the sight of another ' s suffering. But there is abundant, overabundant pleasure in your own suffering too, in making yourself suffer, - and wherever anyone lets himself be talked into self-denial in the religious sense, or self-mutilation (as the Phoenicians or ascetics did), or into desensitization, disembowelment or remorse in general, or into puritanical penitential spasms, vivisections of conscience or a Pascalian sacrifizio dell'intelletto - wherever this is the case, he is secretly being tempted and urged on by his cruelty, by that dangerous thrill of self -directed cruelty. Finally, people should bear in mind that even the knower, by forcing his spirit to know against its own inclination and, often enough, against the wishes of his heart (in other words, to say 'no' when he would like to affirm, love, worship), this knower will prevail as an artist of cruelty and the agent of its transfiguration. Even treating something in a profound or thorough manner is a violation, a wanting-to-hurt the fundamental will of the spirit, which constantly tends towards semblances and surfaces, - there is a drop of cruelty even in every wanting-to-know."}
{"text": "Perhaps people will not immediately understand what I have said here about a 'fundamental will of the spirit': let me explain. - The commanding element (whatever it is) that is generally called 'spirit' wants to dominate itself and its surroundings, and to feel its domination: it wills simplicity out of multiplicity, it is a binding, subduing, domineering, and truly masterful will. Its needs and abilities are the same ones that physiologists have established for everything that lives, grows, and propagates. The power of spirit to appropriate foreign elements manifests itself in a strong tendency to assimilate the new to the old, to simplify the manifold, to disregard or push aside utter inconsistencies: just as it will arbitrarily select certain aspects or outlines of the foreign, of any piece of the 'external world,' for stronger emphasis, stress, or falsification in its own interest. Its Sacrifice of the intellect. Beyond Good and Evil"}
{"text": "intention here is to incorporate new 'experiences,' to classify new things into old classes, - which is to say: it aims at growth, or, more particularly, the feeling of growth, the feeling of increasing strength. This same will is served by an apparently opposite drive of spirit, a suddenly emerging resolution in favor of ignorance and arbitrary termination, a closing of its windows, an inner nay-saying to something or other, a come-no-closer, a type of defensive state against many knowable things, a contentment with darkness, with closing horizons, a yea-saying and approval of ignorance: all of which are necessary in proportion to the degree of its appropriating force, its 'digestive force,' to speak metaphorically - and really, 'spirit' resembles a stomach more than anything. The spirit's occasional will to be deceived belongs here too, perhaps with a playful hunch that things are not one way or the other, that people just accept things as one way or the other, a sense of pleasure in every uncertainty and ambiguity, a joyful self-delight at the arbitrary narrowness and secrecy of a corner, at the all-too-close, the foreground, at things made bigger, smaller, later, better, a self-delight at the sheer caprice in all these expressions of power. Finally, the spirit's not quite harmless willingness to deceive other spirits and to act a part in front of them belongs here too, that constant stress and strain of a creative, productive, mutable force. What the spirit enjoys here is its multiplicity of masks and its artfulness, and it also enjoys the feeling of security these provide, - after all, its Protean arts are the very things that protect and conceal it the best! This will to appearances, to simplification, to masks, to cloaks, in short, to surfaces - since every surface is a cloak - meets resistance from that sublime tendency of the knower, who treats and wants to treat things in a profound, multiple, thorough manner. This is a type of cruelty on the part of the intellectual conscience and taste, and one that any brave thinker will acknowledge in himself, assuming that he has spent as long as he should in hardening and sharpening his eye for himself, and that he is used to strict discipline as well as strict words. He will say 'There is something cruel in the tendency of my spirit': - just let kind and virtuous"}
{"text": "people try to talk him out of it! In fact, it would sound more polite if, instead of cruelty, people were to accuse, mutter about and praise us as having a sort of 'wild honesty' - free, very free spirits that we are: - and perhaps this is what our reputation will really be - posthumously? In the meantime - because this won't be happening for a while - we are the least likely to dress ourselves up with these sorts of moral baubles and beads: all the work we have done so far has spoiled our taste for precisely this sort"}
{"text": "of bright opulence. These are beautiful, twinkling, tinkling, festive words: genuine honesty, love of truth, love of wisdom, sacrifice for knowledge, the heroism of truthfulness, - there is something about them that makes you swell with pride. But we hermits and marmots, we convinced ourselves a long time ago and in all the secrecy of a hermit's conscience that even this dignified verbal pageantry belongs among the false old finery, debris, and gold dust of unconscious human vanity, and that the terrible basic text of homo natura must be recognized even underneath these fawning colors and painted surfaces. To translate humanity back into nature; to gain control of the many vain and fanciful interpretations and incidental meanings that have been scribbled and drawn over that eternal basic text of homo natura so far; to make sure that, from now on, the human being will stand before the human being, just as he already stands before the rest of nature today, hardened by the discipline of science, - with courageous Oedipus eyes and sealed up Odysseus ears, deaf to the lures of the old metaphysical bird catchers who have been whistling to him for far too long: 'You are more! You are higher! You have a different origin!' - This may be a strange and insane task, but it is a task - who would deny it! Why do we choose it, this insane task? Or to ask it differently: 'Why knowledge at all?' - Everyone will be asking us this. And we who have been prodded so much, we who have asked ourselves the same question a hundred times already, we have not found and are not finding any better answers ... Learning transforms us, it acts like all other forms of nourishment that do not just 'preserve' -: as physiologists know. But at our foundation, 'at the very bottom,' there is clearly something that will not learn, a brick wall of spiritual fatum , of predetermined decisions and answers to selected, predetermined questions. In any cardinal problem, an immutable 'that is me' speaks up. When it comes to men and women, for instance, a thinker cannot change his views but only reinforce them, only finish discovering what, to his mind, 'is established.' In time, certain solutions are found to problems that inspire our strong beliefs in particular; perhaps they will"}
{"text": "Natural man. Fate. Beyond Good and Evil start to be called 'convictions.' Later - they come to be seen as only footsteps to self-knowledge, signposts to the problems that we are , - or, more accurately, to the great stupidity that we are, to our spiritual fatum , to that thing 'at the very bottom' that will not learn . - On account of the abundant civility that I have just extended to myself, I will perhaps be more readily allowed to pronounce a few truths about the 'woman an sich ': assuming that people now know from the outset the extent to which these are only my truths. -"}
{"text": "Women want to become independent, so they are beginning to enlighten men about the 'woman an sich '-this is one of the worst developments in Europe's general trend towards increasing ugliness . Just imagine what these clumsy attempts at female scientificity and self-disclosure will bring to light! Women have so much cause for shame; they contain so much that is pedantic, superficial, and schoolmarmish as well as narrowmindedly arrogant, presumptuous, and lacking in restraint (just think about their interactions with children!), all of which has been most successfully restrained and kept under control by their fear of men. Look out when the 'eternal tedium of woman' (which they all have in abundance!) first dares to emerge! When, on principle, they start completely forgetting their discretion and their art - of grace, play, chasing-all-cares-away, of making things easier and taking them lightly, as well as their subtle skill at pleasant desires! Even now, female voices are becoming heard which - holy Aristophanes! - are terrifying, and threaten with medicinal clarity what, in the first and last instance, women want from men. Isn't it in the very worst taste when women prepare to be scientific like this? Fortunately, enlightenment had been a man's business, a man's talent until now - as such, we could remain 'among ourselves.' And with respect to everything that women write about 'woman,' we can ultimately reserve a healthy doubt as to whether women really want - and are able to want - to provide enlightenment about themselves ... If this is not really all about some woman trying to find a new piece of finery for herself (and isn't dressing up a part of the Eternal Feminine?), well then, she wants to inspire fear of In German: das ' Weib an sich .' The term ' an sich ' means 'in itself,' as in Kant's Ding an sich (thing in itself). I have left the term in German because any English rendering is clumsy, and the German retains both the gender neutrality and the philosophical connotations of the term."}
{"text": "herself: - perhaps in order to dominate. But she does not want truth: what does truth matter for a woman! Nothing is so utterly foreign, unfavorable, hostile for women from the very start than truth, - their great art is in lying, their highest concern is appearance and beauty. Let us admit that we men love and honor precisely this art and this instinct in women: we have a rough time of it, and gladly seek relief by attaching ourselves to a being in whose hands, eyes, and gentle stupidities our seriousness, our gravity, and profundity look almost stupid to us. Finally, I will pose the question: has a woman herself ever acknowledged a female mind as profound or a female heart as just? And isn't it true that, judging overall, 'woman' has historically been most despised by women themselves - and not by us at all? - We men wish that women would stop compromising themselves through enlightenment: just as male care and protection of women were at work when the church decreed: mulier taceat in ecclesia ! It was for women's own good, when Napoleon gave the all-too-eloquent Madame de Stael to understand: mulier taceat in politicis ! - and I think that it is a true friend of the ladies who calls to them today: mulier taceat de muliere !"}
{"text": "It shows corruption of the instincts - even apart from the fact that it shows bad taste - when a woman refers specifically to Madame Roland or MadamedeStael or Monsieur Georges Sand, as if that proved something in favor of the 'woman an sich .' Men consider these the three comical women an sich - nothing else! - and precisely the best involuntary counterarguments against emancipation and female self-determination."}
{"text": "Stupidity in the kitchen; woman as cook; the spine-chilling thoughtlessness in the feeding of the family and the head of the house! Women do not understand what food means : and yet want to cook! If woman were a thoughtful creature, then the fact that she has been the cook for thousands of years would surely have led her to discover the greatest physiological facts, and at the same time make the art of medicine her own! Bad cooking 'Woman should be silent in church.' 'Woman should be silent about politics.' 'Woman should be silent about woman.' Beyond Good and Evil and the complete absence of reason in the kitchen have caused the longest delays and the worst damage to the development of humanity: even today, things are hardly any better. A speech for young ladies."}
{"text": "There are phrases and masterstrokes of the spirit, there are aphorisms, a small handful of words, in which an entire culture, an entire society is suddenly crystallized. Madame de Lambert's occasional remark to her son is one of them: ' Mon ami, ne vous permettez jamais que de folies qui vous feront grand plaisir ': - which, by the way, is the most motherly and astute remark that has ever been addressed to a son."}
{"text": "What Dante and Goethe believed about women - the former when he sang ' ella guardava suso, ed io in lei ,' the latter when he translated it as 'the Eternal Feminine draws us upward '-: I have no doubt that any noble woman will object to this belief, since this is just what she believes about the Eternal Masculine."}
{"text": "Seven little maxims about women Suddenly we're bored no more when a man crawls through the door! Age, alas! and science too gives weaker virtues strength anew. Black gowns and a silent guise make any woman look quite - wise. Who to thank for my success? God - and my own tailoress. 'My friend, only allow yourself the follies that will give you great pleasure.' 'She looked up, and I at her.' From Dante's Divina Commedia: Paradiso , II, . From Goethe's Faust II, line f. So far, men have been treating women like birds that have lost their way and flown down to them from some height or another: like something finer, more vulnerable, wilder, stranger, sweeter, more soulful, - but also like something that has to be locked up to keep it from flying away."}
{"text": "To be wrong about the fundamental problem of 'man and woman'; on the one hand, to deny the most abysmal antagonism and the necessity of an eternally hostile tension; and, on the other hand, to dream, perhaps, of equal rights, equal education, equal entitlements and obligations: thatisa typical sign of a shallow mind, and a thinker who has proven to be shallow in this dangerous area - shallow in instinct! -, can be generally regarded as suspicious, or, even more, as shown up for what he is, as exposed. He will probably be too 'short' for all the fundamental questions of life, including future life, and unable to get down to them in any depth. On the other hand, someone who has the same depth in his spirit as he does in his desires, and also that depth of goodwill which is capable of harshness and strictness and is easily mistaken for them - that sort of man will only ever be able to think about woman in an oriental manner. He needs to understand the woman as a possession, as property that can be locked up, as something predestined for servitude and fulfilled by it. In this he has to adopt the position of Asia's enormous rationality, Asia's superiority of instinct, just as the Greeks once did (being Asia's best heirs and students); we know that, from Homer up to the times of Pericles, while their culture was growing and their strength expanding, the Greeks were gradually becoming stricter with women too - in short, more oriental. How necessary, how logical - in Beyond Good and Evil fact, how humanly desirable all this has been: just think about it for a while!"}
{"text": "The men of our epoch treat the weaker sex with more respect than any epoch has ever done - this is part of the democratic tendency and fundamental taste, as is a lack of respect for age -: is it any wonder that this respect is immediately misused? People want more, people learn to make demands, people ultimately find this respect tax almost hurtful, people would prefer to compete for rights or, in all seriousness, wage war: enough, woman loses her shame. Let us immediately add that she also loses her taste. She forgets her fear of man: but the woman who 'forgets fear' abandons her most feminine instincts. It is fair enough and also understandable enough for women to dare to emerge when fear of men is no longer inculcated, or, to be more exact, when the man in men is no longer wanted and cultivated; what is more difficult to understand is that in the process - women degenerate. This is happening today, make no mistake about it! Wherever the industrial spirit has won out over the military and aristocratic spirit, women are now striving for the economic and legal independence of a clerk: 'the woman as clerk' is written on the gateway to the developing, modern society. While women are seizing new rights in this manner, trying to become 'master' and writing 'progress' for women on their flags and pennants, the opposite is taking place with terrifying clarity: woman are regressing . Ever since the French Revolution, the influence of women in Europe has decreased proportionately as they have gained rights and entitlements. Accordingly, the 'emancipation of women,' to the extent that it has been demanded and called for by women themselves (and not just by shallow-minded masculine dolts), turns out to be a strange symptom of the increased weakening and softening of the most feminine instincts of all. The stupidity in this movement, an almost masculine stupidity, is enough to make any woman who has turned out well (which always means a clever woman) thoroughly ashamed. To lose your sense for which ground best insures your victory; to neglect practice of your own military arts; to lose control of yourself in front of men, perhaps even 'to the point of writing books,' where you used to act with discipline and subtle, cunning humility; to work with virtuous courage against men's belief in any veiled , fundamentally different ideal in women, Our virtues"}
{"text": "in any sort of Eternal or Necessary Feminine; to dissuade men, emphatically and at length, from thinking that women must by kept, cared for, protected, and looked after like gentle, strangely wild and often pleasant house pets; to collect together, in an inept and indignant manner, everything slavish and serflike that was and still is intrinsic to the position of women in the present social order (as if slavery were a counter-argument and not rather a condition of any higher culture, any elevation of culture): - what does all this mean except a crumbling away of feminine instincts, a defeminization? Of course, there are plenty of idiotic friends and corrupters of women among the scholarly asses of the male sex who recommend that women defeminize themselves like this and copy all the stupidities that the 'man' in Europe, that European 'manliness' suffers from, - who would like to bring women down to the level of 'general education,' and maybe even of reading the newspapers and taking part in politics. Every now and then, people even want to make free spirits and literati out of women: as if a woman without piety were anything other than absolutely repugnant or ludicrous to a profound and godless man -. Almost everywhere, women's nerves are being ruined by the most pathological and dangerous of all types of music (our most recent German music) and women are being made more hysterical by the day, and less capable of performing their first and last profession, the bearing of strong children. People want women to be more 'cultivated' in general and want, as they say, to make the 'weaker sex' strong through culture: as if history did not teach as vividly as possible that 'cultivating' human beings and weakening - in particular, weakening, dissipating, afflicting the strength of the will - have always kept pace with each other, and that the most powerful and influential women in the world (recently even Napoleon's mother) owed their power and their dominance over men precisely to the strength of their will - and not to schoolteachers! What inspires respect and, often enough, fear of women is their nature (which is 'more natural' than that of men), their truly predatory and cunning agility, their tiger's claws inside their glove, the naivet'e of their egoism, their inner wildness and inability to be trained, the"}
{"text": "incomprehensibility, expanse, and rambling character of their desires and virtues ... What inspires pity, in spite of all the fear, for this dangerous and beautiful cat 'woman' is that she seems to suffer more, be more vulnerable, need more love, and be condemned to more disappointments than any animal. Fear and pity: these are the feelings with which men have stood before women so far,"}
{"text": "always with one foot in tragedy which tears you apart even as it delights you -. What? And that brings it to an end? The demystification of women is in progress? Women's tediousness comes slowly into view? Oh Europe, Europe! We are familiar with the horned animal that you always found the most attractive, who kept threatening you with more danger! Your old fable could become 'history' once more, - once more an enormous stupidity could come to dominate you and carry you away! And there is no god hidden inside, no! only an 'idea,' a 'modern idea'! ... An allusion to the Greek myth in which Zeus, in the form of a bull, abducts Europa, daughter of the royal house of Phoenicia."}
{"text": "I heard it again for the first time - Richard Wagner's overture to Meistersinger : it is magnificent, ornate, heavy, late art that takes pride in presupposing two hundred years of music as still living in order to be comprehensible: - it is a credit to the Germans that this sort of pride is not mistaken! What strengths and life forces, what seasons and territories are not combined here! One moment the work will strike us as old-fashioned, and the next as alien, harsh, and overly young. It is just as capricious as it is pompously conventional, it is not infrequently mischievous, and more often coarse and uncouth - it has fire and courage and at the same time the loose, drab skin of fruit that ripens too late. It flows in a full and expansive manner: and then suddenly a moment of inexplicable hesitation, like a gap that springs up between cause and effect, a dream-inducing pressure, practically a nightmare - , but, even then, the old stream of contentment spreads far and wide once again, that stream of the most varied contentment, of fortunes old and new which very much include the artist's happiness with himself (a happiness he does not want to hide), his astonished, joyful part in knowing he has mastered the devices he employs here - new, newly acquired, untried artistic devices, as he seems to reveal to us. All told, no beauty, nothing of the south, none of the fine, southern, brilliant skies, no gracefulness or dance, barely a will to logic; a certain awkwardness, in fact, which is even emphasized, as if the artist wanted to tell us: 'I meant to do that'; an unwieldy guise, something capriciously barbaric and solemn, a flurry of erudite and venerable delicacies and lace; something German in the best and the worst senses"}
{"text": "of the word, something multiple, informal and inexhaustible in a German way; a certain German powerfulness and overfullness of the soul that is not afraid to hide behind the refinements of decline (and perhaps this is where it feels best); a fair and fitting emblem of the German soul that is simultaneously young and obsolete, over-done and still overflowing with future. This type of music best expresses what I think about the Germans: they are from the day before yesterday and the day after tomorrow, they still have no today ."}
{"text": "We 'good Europeans': even we have hours when we allow ourselves a robust fatherlandishness, a slip and backslide into old loves and confines (I have just given a sample of this), hours of national outbursts, patriotic trepidations, and all sorts of other antiquated floods of affect. But things that run their course in us in a matter of hours might take clumsier spirits longer periods of time to get over, a good half a year in some cases and half a lifetime in others, according to the speed and strength of their digestion andmetabolism.Infact,Icouldimaginedullandhesitantraceswhowould need half a century even in our speedy Europe to overcome such atavistic fits of fatherlandishness, to unglue themselves from the soil and return to reason, by which I mean 'good Europeanism.' And while digressing on this possibility, it so happens that I'm becoming an ear-witness to a conversation between two old 'patriots,' both obviously hard of hearing, and so speaking that much louder. ' He thinks and knows as much about philosophy as a peasant or a fraternity student,' said the one -: 'He's still innocent. But who cares these days? This is the age of the masses: they lie prostrate in front of anything massive. And the same in politicis too. They call a statesman 'great' if he builds them a new tower of Babel or some sort of monstrosity of empire and power - who cares if we are more cautious and circumspect and keep holding on to our old belief that it takes a great thought to make a cause or action great. Suppose that a statesman puts his people in the position of needing to do 'great politics' in the future, although they are ill equipped and ill prepared by nature for this task, so that they need to sacrifice their old and reliable virtues for the sake of a new and dubious mediocrity, - suppose that such a statesman condemns his people to any 'political activity' at all, when in fact they have had better things to do and to think about until now, and at the bottom of their souls"}
{"text": "they hadn't got rid of a cautious disgust at the agitation, emptiness, and riotous brawling of truly politicized peoples: - suppose that a statesman like this incites the dormant passions and greed of his people, makes a flaw out of their former shyness and the way they enjoyed staying to the side, makes a fault out of their cosmopolitanism and secret infinity, devalues their most heart-felt tendencies, turns their conscience around, makes their spirit narrow and their taste 'national,' - what! A statesman whowould do all that, whose people would have to serve him like a prison sentenceforallthefuture(iftheyevenhadafuture);thissortofastatesman is great ?' 'Without a doubt!' answered the other old patriot vehemently, 'Otherwise he wouldn't have been able to do it! Perhaps it was crazy to want something like this? But perhaps everything great started out as simply crazy!' - 'That's an abuse of language!' shouted the first speaker in reply: '- strong! strong! strong and crazy! Not great!' - The old men had grown visibly heated as they yelled their 'truths' into each other's faces like this; but me, in my happiness and my beyond, I considered how soon the strong come to be dominated by the stronger; and also that the spiritual leveling of one people is compensated for in the deepening of another. -"}
{"text": "Whatever term is used these days to try to mark what is distinctive about the European, whether it is 'civilization' or 'humanization' or 'progress' (or whether, without implying praise or censure, it is simply labeled Europe's democratic movement); behind all the moral and political foregrounds that are indicated by formulas like these, an immense physiological process is taking place and constantly gaining ground - the process of increasing similarity between Europeans, their growing detachment from the conditions under which climate- or class-bound races originate, their increasing independence from that determinate milieu where for centuries the same demands would be inscribed on the soul and the body - and so the slow approach of an essentially supra-national and nomadic type of person who, physiologically speaking, is typified by a maximal degree of the art and force of adaptation. This process of the European in a state of becoming can be slowed down in tempo through large-scale relapses (although this might be the very thing that makes it gain and grow in vehemence and depth). The still-raging storm and"}
{"text": "stress of 'national feeling' belongs here, as does the anarchism that is only just approaching. This process will probably end up with results that its naive supporters and eulogists, the apostles of 'modern ideas,' have least expected. The same new conditions that generally lead to a leveling and mediocritization of man - a useful, industrious, abundantly serviceable, and able herd animal man - are to the highest degree suitable for giving rise to exceptional people who possess the most dangerous and attractive qualities. Considering the fact that every adaptive force which systematically tests an ever-changing set of conditions (starting over with each generation, practically with each decade) does not make the powerfulness of the type even remotely possible; considering the fact that the overall impression of such future Europeans will probably be of exceedingly garrulous, impotent and eminently employable workers who need masters and commanders like they need their daily bread; and, finally, considering the fact that Europe's democratization amounts to the creation of a type prepared for slavery in the most subtle sense: taking all this into account, the strong person will need, in particular and exceptional cases, to get stronger and richer than he has perhaps ever been so far, - thanks to a lack of prejudice in his schooling, thanks to an enormous diversity in practice, art, and masks. What I'm trying to say is: the democratization of Europe is at the same time an involuntary exercise in the breeding of tyrants -understanding that word in every sense, including the most spiritual."}
{"text": "I'm glad to hear that our sun is moving rapidly towards the constellation of Hercules , and I hope that the people of this earth will act like the sun. With us in front, we good Europeans! -"}
{"text": "There was a time when it was customary to call the Germans 'profound,' as a term of distinction. Now that the most successful type of new Germanism desires a completely different sort of honor and has, perhaps, come to regret the absence of a certain 'elan' in everything profound, it is almost timely and patriotic to ask whether people have not been fooling themselves with this praise; in short, whether German profundity is not something fundamentally different and worse - and something we"}
{"text": "are about to get rid of, thank God. So: to try to change our ideas about Germanprofundity,all we need is a little vivisection of the German soul. More than anything else, the German soul is multiple, it originates in different places and is more piled up and pieced together than actually constructed: this is due to its origin. A German with the audacity to claim 'two souls, alas, are dwelling in my breast' would be abusing the truth quite badly, or to be more accurate, would fall quite a few souls short of the truth. As a people composed of the most enormous assortment and combination of races (perhaps even with a preponderance of the pre-Aryan element), as a 'people of the middle' in every sense, the Germans are more incomprehensible, comprehensive, contradictory, unfamiliar, unpredictable, surprising, and even frightening than other peoples are to themselves: - they escape definition whichbyitself makes them the despair of the French. It is characteristic of the Germans that the question 'what is German?' never dies out with them. Kotzebue certainly knew his Germans well enough: 'Weare known' they called out to him in joy, - but Sand claimed to know them too. Jean Paul knew what he was doing when he came out furiously against Fichte's dishonest but patriotic flattery and exaggerations -but Goethe probably felt differently from Jean Paul about the Germans, even though he thought Jean Paul was right about Fichte. What did Goethe really think about the Germans? - But Goethe never did speak plainly about many of the things around him, and was an expert at subtle silence all his life: - he probably had his reasons. It is clear that the 'Wars of Liberation' did not raise his level of enthusiasm any more than the French Revolution had done; the event that made him rethink his Faust - and indeed the whole problem of 'man' - was the appearance of Napoleon. There are sayings where Goethe speaks as if from abroad, disputing with impatient hardness just what Germans take pride in. He once defined the famous German Gemut as 'tolerance towards others' weaknesses as well as your own.' Was he wrong? It is characteristic of the Germans that people are rarely completely wrong about them. The German soul has passages going this way and that, it has caves, hiding places and dungeons; its disorder has much of the"}
{"text": "charm of the mysterious; the German is an expert on Goethe's Faust I, line . Reference to Jean Paul's review of Fichte's Reden an die Deutsche Nation ( Speeches to the German Nation ), in Heidelberger Jahrb ucher ( ). This term is difficult to translate, but suggests a soulful quality or warm-hearted disposition. Beyond Good and Evil"}
{"text": "the secret paths to chaos. And just as everything loves its likeness, the German loves clouds and everything unclear, becoming, nebulous, damp and overcast: he feels that uncertainty, disorganization, displacement, and growth of every type are 'profound.' The German himself is not, he becomes , he 'develops.' 'Development,' then, is the truly German discovery and sensation in the great realm of philosophical formulas: - a governing concept that, in conjunction with German beer and German music, is working to Germanize all of Europe. Foreigners stand amazed and enthralled before the riddles posed to them by the contradictory nature at the base of the German soul (which Hegel brought into a system and Richard Wagner finally set to music). 'Good-natured and spiteful' a juxtaposition like this, which would be absurd in reference to any other people, is all too often justified in Germany (unfortunately: just live with Swabians for a while!). The ponderousness of German scholars, their social fatuousness, is frighteningly consistent with an inner high-wire act and easy boldness in the face of which all gods have learned fear by now. If you want a demonstration of the German soul ad oculos , just look at German taste, German arts and customs: what a boorish indifference to 'taste'! How the noblest stands right next to the most base! How disorderly and rich this whole psychic economy really is! The German lugs his soul around, he lugs around everything he experiences. He digests his events badly, he is never 'finished' with them; German profundity is often just a weak and sluggish 'digestion.' And just as everyone who is chronically ill (all dyspeptics) tends toward comfortable things, the Germans love 'openness' and everything 'upright.' How comfortable it is to be open and upright! Today, the Germans are expert at what is perhaps the happiest and most dangerous disguise, that trusting, accommodating, allcards-on-the-table attitude of genuine German honesty : this is their truly Mephistophelean art, and with it they can 'still go far'! The German lets himself go, looks out with true, blue, empty German eyes, - and foreigners immediately mistake him for his nightshirt! - What I am trying to say is: let 'German"}
{"text": "profundity' be what it will (and just between us, perhaps, we will allow ourselves a laugh at its expense?), we would do well to honor its appearance and good name in the future as well, and Before the eyes. In German: Biederkeit . From Goethe's Faust part I, line . not to trade in our old reputation as people of profundity too cheaply for Prussian 'elan' or Berliner wit and sand. It is clever of a people to pass themselvesoff-to let themselvespass-forprofound,undiplomatic,goodnatured,honestandun-clever:itcouldevenbe-profound!Finally:people should live up to their name, - and it's not for nothing that the Germans [ die Deutsche ] are called the ' tiusche ' people, the ' Tausche ' (deceptive) people ..."}
{"text": "The 'good old days' are over - they sang themselves out in Mozart. How lucky for us that his Rococo still speaks to us, that his 'good company,' his tender enthusiasms, his childish pleasure in Chinoiserie and fancy flourishes, his courtesy of the heart, his longing for the delicate and the amorous, for dancing and tearful moments of bliss, his faith in the south, might still appeal to some vestige in us! Oh, some day all this will be gone! - but who can doubt that the understanding and taste for Beethoven will be gone even sooner! - although he was only the finale of a transitional style and stylistic discontinuity and not, like Mozart, the finale of a centuries-old, great European taste. Beethoven falls somewhere between a brittle old soul that is constantly coming apart and an overly young, future-oriented soul that is constantly on its way . A dusk of eternal loss and eternal, wild hope lies over his music - the same light that lay across Europe when it dreamed with Rousseau, danced around the freedom tree of the Revolution and ended up practically worshipping Napoleon. But howquickly this very feeling is now fading, how difficult it is to even know about this feeling these days - how foreign the language of this Rousseau, Schiller, Shelley, and Byron sounds to our ear, these men in whom, collectively , the same European destiny which in Beethoven knew how to sing, found its way into words! - What became of German music afterwards belongs in romanticism, which is to say in a movement that was (calculated historically), even briefer, more fleeting and more superficial than that great entr'acte , that European transition from Rousseau to Napoleon and the rise of democracy. Weber: but what are Freischutz and Oberon to us these days! Or Marschner's Hans Heiling and Vampyr ! Or even Wagner's Tannhauser ! This music is gone, if not yet forgotten. At any rate, the whole music of romanticism was not noble enough, not music enough to have rights anywhere except in the theater and in front of crowds; it was Beyond Good and Evil"}
{"text": "second-rate music from the very start, and real musicians took little notice of it. Things were different with Felix Mendelssohn, that halcyon master who, thanks to his easier, purer, happier soul, was quickly honored and just as quickly forgotten, as a lovely incident in German music. But when it comes to Robert Schumann, who took things seriously and was from the start taken seriously himself (he is the last to have founded a school): don't we think of it today as a stroke of luck, a relief, a liberation that just this Schumannian romanticism has been overcome? Schumann, fleeing into the 'Saxon Switzerland' of his soul, half Werther-ish, half Jean Paul-ine by nature, certainly not Beethoven-esque! certainly not Byronic! His Manfred music is a mistake and a misunderstanding to the point of injustice -; Schumann with his taste, which was fundamentally a small taste (being a dangerous tendency towards calm lyricism and a drunkenness of feeling, which is twice as dangerous among Germans), going constantly to the side, timidly excusing himself and retreating, a noble, tender creature, who reveled in nothing but anonymous happiness and pain, a type of little girl and noli me tangere from the start: this Schumann was already a merely German event in music, no longer a European event like Beethoven, or, to a still more comprehensive extent, like Mozart. With Schumann, German music was threatened with its greatest danger, that of losing the voice of the European soul and descending to a mere fatherlandishness. -"}
{"text": "- What torture German books are for anyone with a third ear! How reluctantly he stands by the slowly revolving quagmire of toneless tones and rhythms without dance that the Germans call a 'book'! And the Germans who read books! How lazily, how grudgingly, how badly they read! How many Germans know (and require themselves to know) that there is art in every good sentence! Art that wants to be discerned to the extent that the sentence wants to be understood! A misunderstanding about its tempo, for instance, and the sentence itself is misunderstood! To have no doubts as to the rhythmically decisive syllables, to feel breaks in the most stringent of symmetries as deliberate and attractive, to extend a subtle and patient ear to every staccato and every rubato , guessing the Do not touch me."}
{"text": "meaning of the order of vowels and diphthongs and how tenderly and richly they can change color and change it again when put next to each other - who among book-reading Germans is well-meaning enough to acknowledge duties and demands like these and to listen for so much art and intent in language? In the end, people just do not have 'the ear for it,' and so the strongest contrasts in style go unheard and the most subtle artistry is wasted as if on the deaf. - These were my thoughts as I noticed two masters in the art of prose being crudely and thoughtlessly mistaken for each other, the one whose words drip down with coldness and hesitation, as if from the roof of a damp cave (he counts on their dull sound and resonance) and another who handles his language like a supple rapier and, from his fingers to his toes, feels the dangerous joy of the quivering, over-sharpened sword that wants to bite, sizzle, cut. -"}
{"text": "Howlittle the German style has to do with tones and with ears is shown by the fact that it is precisely our good musicians who write poorly. Germans do not read aloud, they do not read for the ear but only with the eye, keeping their ears in a drawer in the meantime. When ancient people read, if they read at all (it happened seldom enough), it was aloud to themselves, and moreover in a loud voice. People were surprised by someone reading quietly, and secretly wondered why. In a loud voice: that means with all the swells, inflections, sudden changes in tone, and shifts in tempo that the ancient, public world took pleasure in. At that time, the rules for written style were the same as those for spoken style, and those rules depended in part on the astonishing development and subtle requirements of the ear and larynx, and also, in part, on the strength, endurance, and power of the ancient lung. What the ancients meant by a period is primarily a physiological unit insofar as it is combined in a single breath. Periods like the ones that occur in Demosthenes and Cicero - swelling up twice and twice sinking down and all within a single breath - those were a delight for people of antiquity who knew from their own training to value the virtue of the rarity and difficulty involved in performing periods like these. We have no real right to the great period, we who are modern, we who are short-winded in every sense! On the whole, these ancients were themselves dilettantes in rhetoric, and therefore authorities, and consequently critics - this is how they drove their rhetoricians to extremes. Similarly, Beyond Good and Evil"}
{"text": "in the previous century, when all the men and women of Italy knew how to sing, virtuosity in song (and with it the art of melody too -) reached a high point. But in Germany there was (until very recently, when a sort of grandstand verbosity shyly and awkwardly stirred its young wings) really only one species of public and vaguely artistic rhetoric, and that came from the pulpit. In Germany, only the preachers knew the weight of a word or syllable, the extent to which a sentence stumbled, sprang, rang, ran, or ran away. They were the only ones with a conscience in their ears, which was often enough an evil conscience: because there was no shortage of reasons why a German of all people should achieve competence in rhetoric infrequently and almost always too late. This is why the masterpiece of German prose is by all rights the masterpiece of its greatest preacher: the Bible has been the best German book to date. Compared to Luther's Bible, almost everything else is merely 'literature' - something that had not grown in Germany and for that reason did not grow and is not growing into German hearts like the Bible did."}
{"text": "There are two types of genius: one that fundamentally begets and wants to beget, and another that is happy to be impregnated and give birth. Similarly with peoples of genius, there are those who inherit the female problem of pregnancy and the secret task of forming, ripening, and bringing to completion - the Greeks, for instance, were this type of people as well as the French -; and others who need to impregnate and be the cause of new orders of life, - like the Jews, the Romans, and, to pose a modest question, the Germans? - peoples tortured and delighted by unknown fevers who irresistibly leave themselves, loving and lusting after foreign races (after ones who 'let themselves be impregnated' -) and also domineering, like everything that knows itself to be full of creative forces and consequently knows of 'God's grace.' These two types of genius look for each other like men and women; but they also misunderstand each other, - like men and women."}
{"text": "Every people has its own tartufferies, and calls them its virtues. You do not know - you cannot know - what is best about yourself. Peoples and fatherlands"}
{"text": "What Europe owes to the Jews? Many things both good and bad, but mainly one thing that is both best and worst: the grand style in morality, the horror and majesty of infinite demands, infinite meanings, the whole romanticism and sublimity of the morally questionable - and, consequently, precisely the most appealing, insidious, and exceptional aspect of those plays of colors and seductions to life in whose afterglow the sky of our present European culture, its evening sky, glows away - perhaps goes away. This is why, among the spectators and philosophers, artists like us regard the Jews with - gratitude."}
{"text": "We have to accept the fact that all sorts of clouds and disturbances (basically, small fits of stupefaction) drift over the spirit of a people who suffers and wants to suffer from national nervous fevers and political ambition. With today's Germans, for instance, there is the anti-French stupidity one moment and the anti-Jewish stupidity the next, now the anti-Polish stupidity, now the Christian-Romantic, the Wagnerian, the Teutonic, the Prussian (just look at these poor historians, these Sybels and Treitschkes with their thickly bandaged heads -), or whatever else they might be called, these little stupors of the German spirit and conscience. Please forgive the fact that, during a short and risky stay in a badly infected region, I did not completely escape this illness either, and like everyone else started worrying about things that were none of my business: the first sign of political infection. About the Jews, for instance: just listen. - I have yet to meet a German who was well disposed towards Jews. And however unconditional the rejection of genuine anti-Semitism might be on the part of every prudent or political person, such prudence and politics are not really aimed at anti-Semitic sentiment in general, but instead at its dangerous excess, and especially at the outrageous and disgraceful expression of this excessive sentiment - this cannot be denied. That Germany has ample quantities of Jews, that the German stomach and the German blood have difficulty (and will continue for a long time to have difficulty) coping with even this number of 'Jews' - as the Italians, the French, the British have coped, due to a stronger digestion -: this is the clear statement and language of a universal instinct that needs to Beyond Good and Evil"}
{"text": "be listened to and acted on. 'Don't let in any more Jews! And lock the doors to the east in particular (even to Austria)!' - so commands the instinct of a people whose type is still weak and indeterminate enough to blur easily and be easily obliterated by a stronger race. But the Jews are without a doubt the strongest, purest, most tenacious race living in Europe today. They know how to thrive in even the worst conditions (and actually do better than in favorable ones) due to some virtues that people today would like to see labeled as vices, - above all, thanks to a resolute faith that does not need to feel ashamed in the face of 'modern ideas.' The Jews change, if they change, only in the way the Russian empire makes its conquests (being an empire that has time and was not made yesterday): namely, according to the fundamental principle 'as slowly as possible!' A thinker who has Europe's future on his conscience will, in every sketch he draws of this future, consider the Jews, like the Russians, to be the most certain and probable factors at present in the great play and struggle of forces. What gets called a 'nation' in Europe today (and is really more a res facta than nata - every once in a while a res ficta et picta will look exactly the same -) is, in any case, something young, easily changed, and in a state of becoming, not yet a race let alone the sort of aere perennius that the Jewish type is: these 'nations' should be on a careful lookout for any hotheaded rivalry and hostility! The fact that the Jews, if they wanted (or if they were forced, as the anti-Semites seem to want), could already be dominant, or indeed could quite literally have control over present-day Europe - this is established. The fact that they are not working and making plans to this end is likewise established. Meanwhile, what they wish and want instead, with a unified assertiveness even, is to be absorbed and assimilated into Europe; they thirst for some place where they can be settled, permitted, respected at last and where they can put an end to the nomadic life, the 'wandering Jew' -; and this urge and impulse (which in itself perhaps already reveals a slackening of the Jewish instincts) should be carefully noted and accommodated - in which case it might be practical and appropriate"}
{"text": "to throw the anti-Semitic hooligans out of the country. Approached selectively and with all due caution, the way it is done by the English nobility. It would clearly be unproblematic Res facta means 'something made'; res nata means 'something born.' Something fictitious and unreal. More enduring than bronze."}
{"text": "for the stronger and more strongly delineated types of new Germanism (the officers of noble rank from the Mark, for instance) to get involved with them: and it would be very interesting to see whether the genius of fortune and fortitude (and above all some spirit and spiritedness, which are in very short supply in the place just mentioned -) could not be added into, bred into, the hereditary art of commanding and obeying - both of which are classic features of the Mark these days. But I should really break off my cheerful speeches and hyper-Germania here, since I am already touching on something I take seriously , on the 'European problem' as I understand it, on the breeding of a new caste to rule Europe. -"}
{"text": "This is not a philosophical race - these Englishmen. Bacon signified an attack on the philosophical spirit in general; Hobbes, Hume, and Locke indicated a degradation and a depreciation in value of the concept 'philosopher' for more than a century. Kant rose up and rebelled against Hume; anditwasLockeaboutwhomSchelling was able to say ' je m'eprise Locke .' Hegel and Schopenhauer were of one mind (along with Goethe) in the struggle against the English-mechanistic world-stupidification; those two hostile brother geniuses in philosophy who divided along the opposing poles of the German spirit and, in the process, wronged each other as only brothers can. That fatuous dolt, Carlyle, knew well enough what England lacks and has always lacked; Carlyle, that half-actor and rhetorician who tried to conceal under impassioned grimaces what he knew about himself: namely, what he lacked - real power of intellect, real profundity of spiritual vision, in short: philosophy. It is characteristic of an unphilosophical race like this to firmly support Christianity: they need its discipline to be 'moralized' and in some sense humanized. It is just because the English are gloomier, stronger-willed, more sensuous, and more brutal than the Germans that they, as the baser of the two, are the more pious as well: they need Christianity that much more. To subtler nostrils, even this English Christianity bears the genuinely English odor of the very spleen and alcoholic dissipation against which it is rightly used as a remedy, - the subtler poison treating the cruder. In fact, a subtler poisoning is a sign of The Mark Brandenburg, the region around Berlin. 'I despise Locke.' Beyond Good and Evil"}
{"text": "progress in crude peoples; it is a step towards spiritualization. The English crudeness and peasant-like seriousness is most tolerably disguised (or better: explained and reinterpreted) by Christian gestures, prayers, and psalm-singing. And for that herd of drunken and dissipated cows who in the past learned to grunt morally under the influence of Methodism and again more recently as a 'salvation army,' - for them, a penitential spasm just might be the highest level of 'humanity' that they can attain: that much you can allow. But what is offensive in even the most humane Englishman is his lack of music, speaking metaphorically (and without metaphors -): there is no dance or timing in the movement of his soul and his body, not even a desire for dance or timing,for'music.' Just listen to him speak; just watch the most beautiful Englishwomen walk - no other country on earth has more beautiful doves or swans, - finally, listen to them sing! But I am asking too much ..."}
{"text": "There are truths best known by mediocre minds, because they are best suited to mediocre minds; there are truths that have a charm and seductive allure only for mediocre spirits. We are coming up against this perhaps unpleasant proposition right now, since the spirit of worthy but mediocre Englishmen - I mean Darwin, John Stuart Mill, and Herbert Spencer - is starting to come to prominence in the middle regions of European taste. In fact, who would doubt the utility of having spirits like these prevail for the time being? It would be a mistake to think that far-flying spirits of the highest type would be particularly adept at detecting, collecting, and drawing conclusions from lots of common little facts: - rather, being exceptions, they are not well situated with respect to the 'rule.' Ultimately, they have more to do than just to know - they have to be something new, mean something new, and present new values! The chasm between knowing something and being able to do it is perhaps even greater and more uncanny than it is generally thought to be: people who can do things in the grand style, the creators, might need to be ignorant. On the other hand, when it comes to scientific discoveries of a Darwinian type, a certain narrowness, aridity, and diligent, painstaking care - in short, something English - is not a bad thing to have at your disposal. - Finally, let us not forget that the English have caused a total depression of the European spirit once already with their profound"}
{"text": "ordinariness. What people call 'modern ideas' or 'eighteenth-century ideas' or even 'French ideas' - in other words, what the German spirit rebelled against in profound disgust -, was English in origin, there is no doubtaboutit.TheFrenchwerejusttheapesandactors(aswellasthebest soldiers) of these ideas, and unfortunately their first and most thorough victims too, since the ame fran caise ended up so sparse and emaciated from the damned Anglomania of 'modern ideas' that people these days look back at its sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, its profound impassioned strength, and its inventive nobility, with something bordering on disbelief. But we have to hold on to this statement of historical fairness with our teeth and defend it against the moment and appearances: the European noblesse (of feeling, of taste, of manner - in short, taking the word in all its higher senses) - is France's work and invention; European baseness, the plebeianism of modern ideas - is England's .-"}
{"text": "France is still the seat of the most spiritual and sophisticated culture in Europe today, and the preeminent school of taste: but you have to know how to find this 'France of taste.' People belonging to it keep themselves well hidden: - there might be only a small number of people in which it loves and lives, people who might not have the sturdiest legs to stand on, some of them fatalists, somber and ill, some of them pampered and over the top, people who have the ambition to hide themselves. There is something they all have in common: they shut their ears to the raging stupidity and the noisy jabbering of the democratic bourgeoisie. In fact, it is a coarsened and stultified France that thrashes around in the foreground these days, - it recently celebrated a real orgy of bad taste combined with self-admiration at Victor Hugo's funeral. They have something else in common too: the goodwill to ward off spiritual Germanization - and an even better inability to do it! Perhaps Schopenhauer is more at home and settled now in this France of the spirit (which is also a France of pessimism) than he ever was in Germany; not to mention Heinrich Heine, who has been in the flesh and blood of the subtler and more promising lyric poets of Paris for a while now; or Hegel who, in the form of Taine French soul. In . Beyond Good and Evil"}
{"text": "(which is to say: in the form of the foremost living historian), exerts an almost tyrannical influence these days. But as far as Wagner goes, the more French music learns to develop according to the real needs of the ame moderne , the more 'Wagnerianized' it becomes; this can be predicted, - it is already happening now! Nevertheless, there are three things that, even today, the French can proudly exhibit as their heir and their own and an enduring mark of an old cultural superiority over Europe, in spite of any voluntary or involuntary Germanization or vulgarization of taste. One is the capacity for artistic passions and devotion to 'form,' for which the phrase l'art pour l'art (along with a thousand others) was invented. Things like this have not been absent from France for the last three hundred years and, thanks to a reverence for 'small numbers,' keep making possible a type of literary chamber music that is not to be found anywhere else in Europe -. The second point on which France can base a claim to superiority over Europe is its old, diverse culture of moralism , whichmeansthatevenamonglittle romanciers of newspapers and chance boulevardiers de Paris you will find, on average, a psychological sensitivity and curiosity that people in Germany, for instance, have no concept of (much less the thing itself!). For this, the Germans would need a few hundred years of moralism which, as I have said, France had not spared itself. Anyone calling the Germans 'naive' on this account is dressing up a deficiency as a compliment. (As a contrast to the German inexperience and innocence in voluptate psychologica - which is not at all unrelated to the tedium of German company -, and as the most successful expression of a genuinely French curiosity and inventiveness in this realm of delicate tremblings, we can name Henri Beyle. This remarkable, anticipatory forerunner ran with a Napoleonic tempo through his Europe, through several centuries of the European soul, as a pathfinder and discoverer of this soul. It took two generations to somehow catch up with him, to guess some of the riddles that tormented and delighted him, this strange Epicurean and question-mark of a man who was France's last great psychologist -.) Modern soul. Art for art's sake. Novelists. People on the Parisian boulevards. Taking pleasure in psychology."}
{"text": "There is, in addition, a third claim to superiority: at the core of the French there is a half-successful synthesis of north and south which lets them conceive many things and do many others that will never occur to an Englishman.Usingatemperamentthatisturnedperiodicallytowardsand away from the south, and whose Provenc al and Ligurian blood bubbles over from time to time, the French fortify themselves against the awful northern gray on gray, the sunless concept-ghostliness and anemia, - our German disease of the taste, against whose excess people at the moment are strongly resolved to prescribe blood and iron: I mean 'great politics' (following a dangerous medical practice that teaches me to wait and wait but not, so far, to hope -). And in France there is still a predisposition to understand and accommodate those rarer and rarely satisfied people who are too far-ranging to find satisfaction in any fatherlandishness, and know how to love the south in the north and the north in the south, the born Mediterraneans, the 'good Europeans.' - It was for them that Bizet made music, this last genius to have seen a new beauty and seduction, - who discovered a piece of the southernness of music ."}
{"text": "I recommend taking a number of precautions against German music. Suppose that someone loves the south like I do, as an immense school for convalescence of both the most spiritual and the most sensual kind, as an unbridled, sun-drenched, sun-transfiguration that spreads across a high-handed, self-assured existence: such a person will learn to be somewhat careful with German music, because, along with ruining his taste, it will ruin his health again too. If someone like this (who is southern not by descent but by belief ) dreams about the future of music, he will also have to dream about music being redeemed from the north, and have the prelude to a more profound and powerful, perhaps more evil and mysterious music in his ears, a supra-German music that does not fade, yellow, or pale at the sight of the voluptuous blue sea or the luminous Mediterranean sky, which is what happens with all German music; a supra-European music that still stands its ground before the brown sunsets of the desert, whose soul is related to the palm tree, and that knows Bismarck's famous phrase. In German: Mittell andler (literally: people whose country is in the middle). Beyond Good and Evil how to wander and to be at home among huge, beautiful, lonely beasts of prey ... I could imagine a music whose rarest magic consisted in no longer knowing anything of good and evil - although, perhaps, some sailor's homesickness, some golden shadow and delicate weakness might run across it every now and then: an art that would see colors flying towards it from a setting moral world - a distant world that had become almost incomprehensible - and would be hospitable and profound enough to receive such late refugees. -"}
{"text": "Thanks to the pathological manner in which nationalist nonsense has alienated and continues to alienate the peoples of Europe from each other; thanks as well to the short-sighted and swift-handed politicians who have risen to the top with the help of this nonsense, and have no idea of the extent to which the politics of dissolution that they practice can only be entr'acte politics, - thanks to all this and to some things that are strictly unmentionable today, the most unambiguous signs declaring that Europe wants to be one are either overlooked or willfully and mendaciously reinterpreted. The mysterious labor in the souls of all the more profound andfar-rangingpeopleofthiscenturyhasactuallybeenfocusedonpreparing the path to this new synthesis and on experimentally anticipating the Europeansofthefuture.Onlyintheirforegroundsorinhoursofweakness (like old age) were they 'fatherlanders,' - they only became 'patriots' when they were resting from themselves. I am thinking about people like Napoleon,Goethe,Beethoven,Stendhal,HeinrichHeine,Schopenhauer: and do not blame me for including Richard Wagner as well; we should not let his own self-misunderstanding lead us astray - geniuses of his type do not often have the right to understand themselves. Although, admittedly, it is not so apparent given the rude clamor with which Wagner is resisted and opposed in France today, it nonetheless remains the case that late French romanticism of the ' s and Richard Wagner belong most closely andintimately together. They are related, fundamentally related, in all the heights and depths of their needs: it is the soul of Europe, the one Europe, that presses and yearns upwards and outwards through their multiple and In German: versuchsweise (see note ,p. above). Peoples and fatherlands"}
{"text": "tumultuous art - towards what? towards a new light? a new sun? But who could really express something that all these masters of new means of language did not know how to express clearly? What is certain is that the same storm and stress tormented them, that they searched in the same way, these last great seekers! They were all dominated by literature, up to their eyes and ears - the first artists with an education in world literature. For the most part, they were themselves writers, poets, go-betweens and mixers of the arts and the senses (as a musician, Wagner belongs among painters, as a poet, among musicians, as an artist in general, among actors); they were all fanatics of expression 'at any cost' (I emphasize Delacroix, Wagner's next of kin), all of them great discoverers in the realm of the sublime as well as the repugnant and repulsive, even greater discoverers in effects, in showmanship, in the art of window displays; they were all talents far above their genius -, virtuosos through and through, with uncanny accesstoeverythingtempting,seductive,compelling,andsubversive,born enemies of logic and straight lines, longing for the foreign, the exotic, the monstrous, the crooked, the self-contradictory. As humans, Tantaluses of the will, plebeians on the rise who knew that they were incapable of a noble tempo, a lento , in their life or work (just consider Balzac, for instance), unconstrained workers, almost destroying themselves with work: antinomians and agitators when it came to customs, ambitious and insatiable without equilibrium or enjoyment; and in the end they all crumbled and sank down in front of the Christian cross (and with complete justification: which one of them would have been profound and original enough for a philosophy of the Antichrist ? -); on the whole, an adventurously daring, splendidly violent, high-flying, high-ascending type of higher men, who first taught their century - and it is the century of the masses ! - the concept 'higher man' ... Let Richard Wagner's German friends decide whether there is something purely German about Wagner's art, or whether it is not distinguished precisely by its derivation from supra-German sources and drives; the extent to which Paris in particular was indispensable for the"}
{"text": "cultivation of Wagner's type should not be underestimated (the profundity of his instincts called him to Paris at the decisive moment); nor should the extent to which his whole manner and self-apostolate required the model of the French socialists. Perhaps closer comparison will reveal, to the credit of Richard Wagner's German nature, that he did everything in a stronger, bolder, harder, and higher way than a Frenchman of the nineteenth century could do, - thanks to the fact"}
{"text": "that we Germans are still closer to barbarism than the French are. The strangest thing that Richard Wagner created might even be inaccessible, incomprehensible, and inimitable to the entire, late, Latinate race, forever and not just for now: the figure of Siegfried, that very free man, who may in fact be far too free, too hard, too cheerful, too healthy, too anti-Catholic for the taste of old and worn-out cultures. He might even have been a sin against romanticism, this anti-romantic Siegfried - although Wagner thoroughly atoned for this sin in his sad old age, when (anticipating a taste that has since become political) he began preaching, if not traveling, the way to Rome with a religious vehemence peculiar to himself. - So that you do not misunderstand these final words of mine, I want to use a few strongrhymes;andthenevenlesssubtleearswillguesswhatIwant,-what Ihave against the 'final Wagner' and his Parsifal music. - Is this still German? It's from a German heart, this murky howling? From German flesh this self-aimed disemboweling? It's German then, this type of priestly feel, This incense-scented sensuous appeal? This broken, falling, swaggered swaying? This unassured singsong-saying? This nun-eyed Ave -chiming leavening, This falsely raptured heaven-overheavening? - Is this still German? Just think! You're standing there, the doorway's near, It's Rome! Rome's faith without the text, you hear . Siegfried is the heroic figure of Wagner's mythological Ring der Nibelungen opera cycle. In his final opera, Parsifal , Wagner emphasized more explicitly Christian themes."}
{"text": "Every enhancement so far in the type 'man' has been the work of an aristocratic society - and that is how it will be, again and again, since this sort of society believes in a long ladder of rank order and value distinctions between men, and in some sense needs slavery. Without the pathos of distance as it grows out of the ingrained differences between stations, out of the way the ruling caste maintains an overview and keeps looking down on subservient types and tools, and out of this caste's equally continuous exerciseinobeyingandcommanding,inkeepingawayandbelow-without this pathos, that other , more mysterious pathos could not have grown at all, that demand for new expansions of distance within the soul itself, the development of states that are increasingly high, rare, distant, tautly drawn and comprehensive, and in short, the enhancement of the type 'man,' the constant 'self-overcoming of man' (to use a moral formula in a supra-moral sense). Of course, you cannot entertain any humanitarian illusions about how an aristocratic society originates (and any elevation of the type 'man' will presuppose an aristocratic society -): the truth is harsh. Let us not be deceived about how every higher culture on earth has begun ! Men whose nature was still natural, barbarians in every terrible sense of the word, predatory people who still possessed an unbroken strength of will and lust for power threw themselves on weaker, more civilized, more peaceful races of tradesmen perhaps, or cattle breeders; or on old and mellow cultures in which the very last life-force was flaring up in brilliant fireworks of spirit and corruption. The noble caste always started out as the barbarian caste. Their supremacy was in psychic, not Beyond Good and Evil physical strength, - they were more complete people (which at any level amounts to saying 'more complete beasts' -)."}
{"text": "Corruption, as an expression of the fact that anarchy threatens inside the instincts and that the foundation of the affects, which we call 'life,' has been shaken: corruption means fundamentally different things, depending on the life-form in which it manifests itself. When, for instance, an aristocracy like that in France at the beginning of the Revolution throws away its privileges with a sublime disgust and sacrifices itself to an excess of its moral feeling, then this is corruption. It was really just the final act of that centuries-long corruption in which the aristocracy gradually relinquished its dominant authority and was reduced to a mere function of the kingdom (and, in the end, to its trinket and showpiece). But the essential feature of a good, healthy aristocracy is that it does not feel that it is a function (whether of the kingdom or of the community) but instead feels itself to be the meaning and highest justification (of the kingdom or community), - and, consequently, that it accepts in good conscience the sacrifice of countless people who have to be pushed down and shrunk into incomplete human beings, into slaves, into tools, all for the sake of the aristocracy . Its fundamental belief must always be that society cannot exist for the sake of society, but only as the substructure and framework for raising an exceptional type of being up to its higher duty and to a higher state of being . In the same way, the sun-seeking, Javanese climbing plant called the sipo matador will wrap its arms around an oak tree so often and for such a long time that finally, high above the oak, although still supported by it, the plant will be able to unfold its highest crown of foliage and show its happiness in the full, clear light."}
{"text": "Mutually refraining from injury, violence, and exploitation, placing your will on par with the other's: in a certain, crude sense, these practices can become good manners between individuals when the right conditions are present (namely, that the individuals have genuinely similar quantities of force and measures of value, and belong together within a single body). But as soon as this principle is taken any further, and maybe even"}
{"text": "held to be the fundamental principle of society, it immediately shows itself for what it is: the will to negate life, the principle of disintegration and decay. Here we must think things through thoroughly, and ward off any sentimental weakness: life itself is essentially a process of appropriating, injuring, overpowering the alien and the weaker, oppressing, being harsh, imposing your own form, incorporating, and at least, the very least, exploiting, - but what is the point of always using words that have been stamped with slanderous intentions from time immemorial? Even a body within which (as we presupposed earlier) particular individuals treat each other as equal (which happens in every healthy aristocracy): if this body is living and not dying, it will have to treat other bodies in just those ways that the individuals it contains refrain from treating each other. It will have to be the embodiment of will to power, it will want to grow, spread, grab, win dominance, - not out of any morality or immorality, but because it is alive , and because life is precisely will to power. But there is no issue on which the base European consciousness is less willing to be instructed than this; these days, people everywhere are lost in rapturous enthusiasms, even in scientific disguise, about a future state of society where 'the exploitative character' will fall away: - to my ears, that sounds as if someone is promising to invent a life that dispenses with all organic functions. 'Exploitation' does not belong to a corrupted or imperfect, primitive society: it belongs to the essence of being alive as a fundamental organic function; it is a result of genuine will to power, which is just the will of life. - Although this is an innovation at the level of theory, - at the level of reality, it is the primal fact of all history. Let us be honest with ourselves to this extent at least! -"}
{"text": "As I was wandering through the many subtle and crude moralities that havebeendominantorthatstilldominateoverthefaceoftheearth,Ifound certain traits regularly recurring together and linked to each other. In the end, two basic types became apparent to me and a fundamental distinction leapt out. There is a master morality and a slave morality ; - I will immediately add that in all higher and more mixed cultures, attempts to negotiate between these moralities also appear, although more frequently the two are confused and there are mutual misunderstandings. In fact, you sometimes find them sharply juxtaposed - inside the same person even, Beyond Good and Evil"}
{"text": "within a single soul. Moral value distinctions have arisen within either a dominating type that, with a feeling of well-being, was conscious of the difference between itself and those who were dominated - or alternatively, these distinctions arose among the dominated people themselves, the slaves and dependants of every rank. In the first case, when dominating people determine the concept of 'good,' it is the elevated, proud states of soul that are perceived as distinctive and as determining rank order. The noble person separates himself off from creatures in which the opposite of such elevated, proud states is expressed: he despises them. It is immediately apparent that, in this first type of morality, the contrast between 'good' and 'bad' amounts to one between 'noble' and 'despicable' (the contrast between 'good' and ' evil ' has a different lineage). People who were cowardly, apprehensive, and petty, people who thought narrowly in terms of utility - these were the ones despised. But the same can be said about distrustful people with their uneasy glances, about grovelers, about dog-like types of people who let themselves be mistreated, about begging flatterers and, above all, about liars: - it is a basic belief of aristocrats that base peoples are liars. 'We who are truthful' - that is what the nobility of ancient Greece called themselves. It is obvious that moral expressions everywhere were first applied to people and then, only later and derivatively, to actions (which is why it is a tremendous mistake when historians of morality take their point of departure from questions such as 'why do acts of pity get praised?'). The noble type of person feels that he determines value, he does not need anyone's approval, he judges that 'what is harmful to me is harmful in itself,' he knows that he is the one who gives honor to things in the first place, he creates values .Hehonors everything he sees in himself: this sort of morality is self-glorifying. In the foreground, there is the feeling of fullness, of power that wants to overflow, the happiness associated with a high state of tension, the consciousness of a wealth that wants to make gifts and give away. The noble person helps the unfortunate too, although not (or hardly ever) out of pity, but rather more out of an impulse generated by the over-abundance of power. In honoring himself, the noble man honors the powerful"}
{"text": "as well as those who have power over themselves, who know how to speak and be silent, who joyfully exercise severity and harshness over themselves, and have respect for all forms of severity and harshness. 'Wotan has put a hard heart in my breast,' reads a line from an old Scandinavian saga: this rightly comes from the soul of a proud Viking. This sort of a man"}
{"text": "is even proud of not being made for pity: which is why the hero of the saga adds, by way of warning, 'If your heart is not hard when you are young, it will never be hard.' The noble and brave types of people who think this way are the furthest removed from a morality that sees precisely pity, actions for others, and d'esint'eressement as emblematic of morality. A faith in yourself, pride in yourself, and a fundamental hostility and irony with respect to 'selflessness' belong to a noble morality just as certainly as does a slight disdain and caution towards sympathetic feelings and 'warm hearts.' - The powerful are the ones who know how to honor; it is their art, their realm of invention. A profound reverence for age and origins - the whole notion of justice is based on this double reverence -, a faith and a prejudice in favor of forefathers and against future generations is typical of the morality of the powerful. And when, conversely, people with 'modern ideas' believe almost instinctively in 'progress' and 'the future,' and show a decreasing respect for age, this gives sufficient evidence of the ignoble origin of these 'ideas.' But, most of all, the morality of dominating types is foreign and painful to contemporary taste due to its stern axiom that people have duties only towards their own kind; that when it comes to creatures of a lower rank, to everything alien, people are allowed to act as they see fit or 'from the heart,' and in any event, 'beyond good and evil' -: things like pity might have a place here. The capacity and duty to experience extended gratitude and vengefulness - both only among your own kind -, subtlety in retaliation, refinement in concepts of friendship, a certain need to have enemies (as flue holes, as it were, for the affects of jealousy, irascibility, arrogance, - basically, in order to be a good friend ): all these are characteristic features of noble morality which, as I have suggested, is not the morality of 'modern ideas,' and this makes it difficult for us to relate to, and also difficult for us to dig it up and lay it open. - It is different with the second type of morality, slave morality . What if people who were violated, oppressed, suffering, unfree, exhausted, and unsure of themselves were to moralize: what type of moral valuations would"}
{"text": "they have? A pessimistic suspicion of the whole condition of humanity would probably find expression, perhaps a condemnation of humanity along with its condition. The slave's gaze resents the virtues of the powerful. It is skeptical and distrustful, it has a subtle mistrust of all the 'good' that is honored there -, it wants to convince Disinterestedness. Beyond Good and Evil itself that even happiness is not genuine there. Conversely, qualities that serve to alleviate existence for suffering people are pulled out and flooded with light: pity, the obliging, helpful hand, the warm heart, patience, industriousness, humility, and friendliness receive full honors here -, since these are the most useful qualities and practically the only way of holding up under the pressure of existence. Slave morality is essentially a morality of utility. Here we have the point of origin for that famous opposition between 'good' and ' evil .' Evil is perceived as something powerful and dangerous; it is felt to contain a certain awesome quality, a subtlety and strength that block any incipient contempt. According to the slave morality then, 'evil' inspires fear; but according to the master morality,itis ' good ' that inspires and wants to inspire fear, while the 'bad' man is seen as contemptible. The opposition comes to a head when, following the logic of slave morality, a hint of contempt (however slight and well disposed) finally comes to be associated with even its idea of 'good,' because within the terms of slave morality, the good man must always be unthreatening :he is good-natured, easy to deceive, maybe a bit stupid, unbonhomme . Wherever slave morality holds sway, language shows a tendency for the words 'good' and 'stupid' to come closer together. - A final fundamental distinction: the desire for freedom , the instinct for happiness, and subtleties in the feeling of freedom necessarily belong to slave morals and morality, just as an artistry and enthusiasm in respect and devotion are invariant symptoms of an aristocratic mode of thinking and valuing. - This clearly shows why love as passion (our European specialty) must have had a purely noble descent: it is known to have been invented in the knightly poetry of Provence, by those magnificent, inventive men of the ' gai saber .' Europe is indebted to these men for so many things, almost for itself."}
{"text": "Vanity is perhaps one of the most difficult things for a noble person to comprehend: he will be tempted to keep denying it when a different type of man will almost be able to feel it in his hands. He has difficulty imagining creatures who would try to inspire good opinions about themselves that they themselves do not hold - and consequently do not 'deserve' A good simple fellow. Gay science."}
{"text": "either -, and who would then end up believing these good opinions. For one thing, this strikes the noble as being so tasteless and showing such a lack of self-respect, and, for another thing, it seems so baroque and unreasonable to him, that he would gladly see vanity as an exception and stay skeptical in most of the cases where it is brought up. For example, he will say: 'I can be wrong about my own worth and still insist that other people acknowledge it to be what I say it is, - but that is not vanity (instead, it is arrogance or, more frequently, it is what they call 'humility' or 'modesty').' Or alternatively: 'There are many reasons why I can enjoy other people's good opinions, perhaps because I love and honor them and rejoice in each of their joys, and perhaps also because their good opinions confirm and reinforce my faith in my own good opinion of myself, perhaps because other people's good opinions are useful or look as though they could be useful to me, even when I don't agree with them, - but none of that is vanity.' It is only when forced (namely with the help of history) that the noble person realizes that from time immemorial, in all strata of people who are in some way dependent, base people were only what they were considered to be : - not being at all accustomed to positing values, the only value the base person attributes to himself is the one his masters have attributed to him (creating values is the true right of masters ). We can see it as the result of a tremendous atavism that, to this day, ordinary people still wait for an opinion to be pronounced about themselves before instinctively deferring to it. And this is by no means only the case with 'good' opinions - they defer to bad and unfair ones as well (for instance, just think about most of the self-estimations and self-underestimations that devout women accept from their father confessors and, in general, that devout Christians accept from their church). As a matter of fact, in keeping with the slow approach of a democratic order of things (and its cause, the mixing of blood between masters and slaves), the originally rare and noble urge to ascribe to yourself a value that comes from yourself, and to 'think well' of yourself is now increasingly widespread and encouraged. But in every age it"}
{"text": "is opposed by an older, broader, and more thoroughly ingrained tendency, and in the phenomenon of 'vanity,' this older tendency gains mastery over the younger. The vain take pleasure in every good opinion they hear about themselves (abstracted entirely from the point of view of utility, and just as much removed from truth or falsity), just as they suffer from every bad opinion. This is because they submit - they feel submissive - to both good and bad opinions out of that oldest instinct of submissiveness Beyond Good and Evil which erupts within them. - This is 'the slave' in the blood of the vain, a remnant of the mischief of the slave - and how much 'slave' is still left over in women, for instance! -, they try to seduce people into having good opinions of them. By the same token, it is the slave who submits to these opinions immediately afterwards, as if he were not the one who had just called for them. - And to say it again: vanity is an atavism."}
{"text": "A species originates, a type grows sturdy and strong, in the long struggle with essentially constant unfavorable conditions. Conversely, people know from the experience of breeders that species with overabundant diets and, in general, more than their share of protection and care, will immediately show a striking tendency towards variations of the type, and will be rich in wonders and monstrosities (including monstrous vices). You only need to see an aristocratic community (such as Venice or an ancient Greek polis ) as an organization that has been established, whether voluntarily or involuntarily, for the sake of breeding : the people living there together are self-reliant and want to see their species succeed, mainly because if they do not succeed they run a horrible risk of being eradicated. Here there are none of the advantages, excesses, and protections that are favorable to variation. The species needs itself to be a species, to be something that, by virtue of its very hardness, uniformity, and simplicity of form, can succeed and make itself persevere in constant struggle with its neighbors or with the oppressed who are or threaten to become rebellious. A tremendous range of experiences teaches it which qualities are primarily responsible for the fact that, despite all gods and men, it still exists, it keeps prevailing. It calls these qualities virtues, and these are the only virtues it fosters. It does so with harshness; in fact, it desires harshness. Every aristocratic morality is intolerant about the education of the young, disposal over women, marriage customs, relations between old and young and penal laws (which only concern deviants): - it considers intolerance itself to be a virtue, under the rubric of 'justice.' A type whose traits are few in number but very strong, a species of people who are strict, warlike, clever, and silent, close to each other and closed up (which gives In German: Art . In this section, Art is translated as 'species' and Typus as 'type.' City-state."}
{"text": "them the most subtle feeling for the charms and nuances of association) will, in this way, establish itself (as a species) over and above the change of generations. The continuous struggle with constant unfavorable conditions is, as I have said, what causes a type to become sturdy and hard. But, eventually, a fortunate state will arise and the enormous tension will relax; perhaps none of the neighbors are enemies anymore, and the means of life, even of enjoying life, exist in abundance. With a single stroke, the bonds and constraints of the old discipline are torn: it does not seem to be necessary any more, to be a condition of existence, - if it wanted to continue, it could do so only as a form of luxury , as an archaic taste . Variation, whether as deviation (into something higher, finer, rarer) or as degeneration and monstrosity, suddenly comes onto the scene in the greatest abundance and splendor; the individual dares to be individual and different. At these turning points of history, a magnificent, diverse, jungle-like growth and upward striving, a kind of tropical tempo in the competition to grow will appear alongside (and often mixed up and tangled together with) an immense destruction and self-destruction. This is due to the wild egoisms that are turned explosively against each other, that wrestle each other 'for sun and light,' and can no longer derive any limitation, restraint, or refuge from morality as it has existed so far. It was this very morality that accumulated the tremendous amount of force to put such a threatening tension into the bow: - and now it is, now it is being 'outlived.' The dangerous and uncanny point has been reached when the greatest, most diverse, most comprehensive life lives past the old morality. The 'individual' is left standing there, forced to give himself laws, forced to rely on his own arts and wiles of self-preservation, self-enhancement, self-redemption. There is nothing but new whys and hows; there are no longer any shared formulas; misunderstanding is allied with disregard; decay, ruin, and the highest desires are horribly entwined; the genius of the race overflows from every cornucopia of good and bad; there is a disastrous simultaneity of spring and autumn, filled with new charms and veils that are well suited to the young, still unexhausted, still indefatigable corruption."}
{"text": "Danger has returned, the mother of morals, great danger, displaced onto the individual this time, onto the neighbor or friend, onto the street, onto your own child, onto your own heart, onto all of your own-most, secret-most wishes and wills: and the moral philosophers emerging at this time - what will they have to preach? These sharp observers and layabouts discover that everything Beyond Good and Evil is rapidly coming to an end, that everything around them is ruined and creates ruin, that nothing lasts as long as the day after tomorrow except one species of person, the hopelessly mediocre . Only the mediocre have prospects for continuing on, for propagating - they are the people of the future, the only survivors: 'Be like them! Be mediocre!' is the only morality that still makes sense, that still finds ears. But this morality of mediocrity is difficult to preach! It can never admit what it is and what it wants! It has to talk about moderation and dignity and duty and loving your neighbors, - it will have a hard time hiding its irony! -"}
{"text": "There is an instinct for rank that, more than anything else, is itself the sign of a high rank; there is a pleasure in nuances of respect that indicates a noble origin and noble habits. The subtlety, quality, and stature of a soul is put dangerously to the test when something of the first rank passes by before the shudders of authority are there to protect it from intrusive clutches and crudeness: something that goes on its way like a living touchstone, undiscovered, unmarked, and experimenting, perhaps voluntarily covered and disguised. Anyone whose task and exercise is the investigation of souls will use this very art, in a variety of forms, to establish the ultimate value of a soul, the unalterable, inborn order of rank it belongs to: this sort of investigator will test out the soul's instinct for respect . Diff'erence engendre haine : many natures have a baseness that suddenly bursts out, like dirty water, when any sort of holy vessel, any sort of treasure from a closed shrine, any sort of book that bears the mark of a great destiny is carried past. On the other hand, there is an involuntary hush, a hesitation of the eye and a quieting of every gesture, all of which indicate that the soul feels the presence of something deserving the highest honors. The way in which respect for the Bible has, on the whole, been maintained in Europe might be the best piece of discipline and refinement in manners that Europe owes to Christianity. Books with this sort of profundity and ultimate meaning need the protection of an externally imposed tyranny of authority; this way, they can last through the millennia that are needed to use them up and figure them out. It is a great achievement when the 'Difference engenders hatred.'"}
{"text": "masses (people of all kinds who lack depth or have speedy bowels) have finally had the feeling bred into them that they cannot touch everything, that there are holy experiences which require them to take off their shoes and keep their dirty hands away, - and this is pretty much as high a level of humanity as they will ever reach. Conversely, what is perhaps the most disgusting thing about so-called scholars, the devout believers in 'modern ideas,' is their lack of shame, the careless impudence of their eyes and hands that touch, taste, and feel everything. And there might still be a greater relative nobility of taste and tactfulness of respect within a people these days, within a lower sort of people, namely within the peasantry, than among the newspaper-reading demimonde of the spirit, the educated."}
{"text": "Whataman'sforefathers liked doing the most, and the most often, cannot be wiped from his soul: whether they were diligent savers and accessories of some writing desk or cash box, modest and middle-class in their wants and modest in their virtues as well; or whether they lived their lives giving orders from morning to night, fond of rough pleasures and perhaps of even rougher duties and responsibilities; or whether they finally sacrificed old privileges of birth and belongings in order to live entirely for their faith - their 'god' -, being people of a tender and unyielding conscience, embarrassed by any compromise. It is utterly impossible that a person might fail to have the qualities and propensities of his elders and ancestors in his body: however much appearances might speak against it. This is the problem of race. If you know anything about the ancestors, you can draw conclusions about the child. Some sort of harmful immoderation, some sort of corner jealousy, a clumsy insistence on always being right together, these three elements have constituted the true 'vulgar' type in every age. And something like this will be passed on to the child just as certainly as contaminated blood. With the help of the best education and culture, people will only just reach the point of being able to lie about a bequestlikethis. Andwhatelseareeducationandcultureforthesedays!In our very popular, which is to say vulgar age, 'education' and 'culture' essentially have to be the art of deception - to deceive about lineage, about the inherited vulgarity in body and soul. An educator who preaches truthfulness above all else these days and constantly calls for his students to 'be true! be natural! be what you are!' - after a while, even a virtuous and Beyond Good and Evil trusting ass like this will learn to reach for that furca of Horace, in order to naturam expellere : and with what success? 'The vulgar' usque recurret . -"}
{"text": "At the risk of annoying innocent ears I will propose this: egoism belongs to the essence of the noble soul. I mean that firm belief that other beings will, by nature, have to be subordinate to a being 'like us' and will have to sacrifice themselves. The noble soul accepts this fact of its egoism without any question-mark, and also without feeling any harshness, compulsion, or caprice in it, but rather as something that may well be grounded in the primordial law of things. If the noble soul were to try to name this phenomenon, it would call it 'justice itself.' It admits to itself, under certain circumstances (that at first give it pause), that there are others with rights equal to its own. As soon as it is clear about this question of rank, it will move among these equals and 'equally righted' with an assured modesty and a gentle reverence equal to how it treats itself, in accordance with an inborn, celestial mechanics that all stars know so well. This is just another piece of its egoism, this finesse and self-limitation in dealing with equals - every star is an egoist of this sort. And the noble soul honors itself in them and in the rights that it gives them; it has no doubt that the exchange of rights and honors belongs to the natural state of things too, as the essence of all interaction. The noble soul gives as it takes, out of the passionate and sensitive instinct of retribution that is so fundamental to it. The concept of 'mercy' is senseless and noisome inter pares ; there might be a sublime way of letting gifts fall down on you from above, as it were, and lapping them up like raindrops; but the noble soul has no talent for this art and conduct. Its egoism gets in the way: it does not generally like looking 'upwards,' - but rather ahead , horizontally and slowly, or downwards: it knows that it is high up .-"}
{"text": "'One can only truly admire those who do not seek themselves.' - Goethe to Rat Schlosser. 'Try expelling nature with a pitchfork and it keeps coming back,' from Horace's Epistolae ,I, , . Between equals. What is noble?"}
{"text": "The Chinese have an expression that even mothers teach their children: siao-sin , 'make your heart small !' This is the true, basic tendency of late civilizations: I have no doubt that this sort of self-belittlement would be the first thing an ancient Greek would notice in us Europeans of today, and this alone would already 'offend his taste.' -"}
{"text": "What, in the end, is base? - Words are acoustic signs for concepts; concepts, though, are more or less determinate pictorial signs for sensations that occur together and recur frequently, for groups of sensations. Using the same words is not enough to get people to understand each other: they have to use the same words for the same species of inner experiences too; ultimately, people have to have the same experience base . This is why a people in a community will understand each other better than they understand people belonging to other groups, even when they all use the same language. Or rather, when individuals have lived together for a long time under similar conditions (of climate, soil, danger, necessities, work), there arises something that 'understands itself ' - a people. In all souls, an equal number of frequently recurring experiences have gained an upper hand over ones that occur less frequently: understanding takes place faster and faster on this basis (the history of language is the history of a process of abbreviation); and people join closer and closer together on the basis of this understanding. The greater the danger, the greater the need to agree quickly and easily about necessities. Not to misunderstand each other when there is danger: people require this in order to interact with each other. In every friendship or relationship, people still put this principle to the test: nothing will last once the discovery is made that one of the two feels, means, senses, wishes, fears something different from the other when using the same words. (Fear of the 'eternal misunderstanding': this is the benevolent genius that so often keeps people of the opposite sex from rushing into relationships at the insistence of their hearts and senses - and not some Schopenhauerian 'genius of the species' -!) What In German: Gemeinheit . Another possible translation is 'common,' which captures the sense of the word (and the point of the passage) according to which base qualities are found among common people, or are what people have in common. I have chosen to translate gemein as base (both here and throughout the text) since it captures more of the derogatory connotations of the term. Beyond Good and Evil"}
{"text": "group of sensations in a soul will be the first to wake up, start speaking, and making demands is decisive for the whole rank order of its values, and will ultimately determine its table of goods. A person's valuations reveal something about the structure of his soul and what the soul sees as its conditions of life, its genuine needs. Now, assuming that needs have only ever brought people together when they could somehow indicate similar requirements and similar experiences with similar signs, then it follows, on the whole, that the easy communicability of needs (which ultimately means having only average and base experiences) must have been the most forceful of the forces that have controlled people so far. People who are more alike and ordinary have always been at an advantage; while people who are more exceptional, refined, rare, and difficult to understand will easily remain alone, prone to accidents in their isolation and rarely propagating. Immense countervailing forces will have to be called upon in order to cross this natural, all-too-natural progressus in simile , people becoming increasingly similar, ordinary, average, herd-like, - increasingly base !"}
{"text": "The more a psychologist - a born, inevitable psychologist and unriddler of souls - turns to exceptional cases and people, the greater the danger that he will be choked with pity: he needs hardness and cheerfulness more than anyone else. The ruin, the destruction of higher people, of strangely constituted souls, is the rule: it is horrible always to have a rule like this in front of your eyes. The manifold torment of the psychologist who discovered this destruction, who first discovered and then kept rediscovering (in almost every case) the whole inner 'hopelessness' of the higher person, the eternal 'too late!' in every sense, throughout the entirety of history, - this torment might make him turn bitterly against his own lot one day and try to destroy himself, - to 'ruin' himself. In almost every psychologist, you find a telling inclination and preference for dealing with normal, well-ordered people. This reveals that the psychologist is in constant need of a cure, of a type of forgetting and escape from the things that make his insight and incisiveness, that make his 'craft' weigh heavily on his conscience. It is characteristic of him to be afraid of his Continuation of the same thing. What is noble?"}
{"text": "memory. He is easily silenced by other people's judgments: he listens with an unmoved face to how they honor, admire, love, and transfigure what he has seen , - or he keeps his silence hidden by expressly agreeing with some foreground opinion. Perhaps the paradox of his condition becomes so horrible that the masses, the educated, the enthusiasts, develop a profound admiration for the very things he has learned to regard with profound pity and contempt, - they admire the 'great men' and prodigies who inspire people to bless and honor the fatherland, the earth, the dignity of humanity, and themselves, 'great men' who are pointed out to young people for their edification ... And who knows if this is not just what has happened in all great cases so far: the masses worshiped a God, - and that 'God' was only a poor sacrificial animal! Success has always been the greatest liar, - and the 'work' itself is a success. The great statesman, the conqueror, the discoverer - each one is disguised by his creations to the point of being unrecognizable. The 'work' of the artist, of the philosopher, is what invents whoever has created it, whoever was supposed to have created it. 'Great men,' as they are honored, are minor pieces of bad literature, invented after the fact; in the world of historical values, counterfeit rules . These great authors, for example, this Byron, Musset, Poe, Leopardi, Kleist, Gogol, - they are, and perhaps have to be men of the moment, excited, sensual, and childish, thoughtless and sudden in trust and mistrust; with souls that generally hide some sort of crack; often taking revenge in their work for some inner corruption, often flying off in search of forgetfulness for an all-too-faithful memory, often getting lost in the mud and almost falling in love with it until they become like the will-o'-the-wisps around swamps and pretend to be stars (then people might call them idealists), often fighting a prolonged disgust, a recurring specter of unbelief that makes them cold and forces them to pine for gloria and to feed on 'faith in itself ' from the hands of drunken flatterers. What torture these great artists and higher people in general are for anyone who has ever guessed what they really are! It is easy to"}
{"text": "imagine that these men will soon be subject to eruptions of boundless and most devoted pity from women in particular (who are clairvoyant in the world of suffering and whose desires to help and save far exceed their ability to actually do so). The masses, the adoring masses, above all, do not understand this pity, and they pile all sorts of nosy and smug interpretations Fame. Beyond Good and Evil on it. This pity is continually deceived as to its own strength; women would like to believe that love makes all things possible, - this is their true faith . Oh, those who know hearts can guess how impoverished, stupid, helpless, presumptuous, and mistaken even the best and deepest love really is - how much more likely it is to destroy than to rescue! - It is possible that one of the most painful cases of the martyrdom of knowledge about love lies hidden under the holy fable and disguise of the life of Jesus: the martyrdom of the most innocent and wishful of hearts, who never had enough of human love, who asked for nothing other than to love and be loved, but who asked it with harshness, with madness, with horrible outbursts against anyone refusing to love him; the story of a poor man who was unsatisfied and insatiable in love, who had to invent hell for there to be somewhere to send people who did not want to love him, - and who, in the end, having learned about human love, had to invent a God who was all love and all ability to love, - who had mercy on human love for being so desperately poor and ignorant! - Anyone who feels this way, anyone who knows this about love - will look for death. But why give yourself up to such painful things? Assuming you do not have to. -"}
{"text": "The spiritual arrogance and disgust of anyone who has suffered deeply (order of rank is almost determined by just how deeply people can suffer), the trembling certainty that saturates and colors him entirely, a certainty that his sufferings have given him a greater knowledge than the cleverest and wisest can have, that he knows his way around and was once 'at home' in many distant and terrifying worlds that ' you don't know anything about!' ... this spiritual, silent arrogance of the sufferer, this pride of knowledge's chosen one, its 'initiate,' almost its martyr, needs all kinds of disguises to protect itself from the touch of intrusive and pitying hands, and in general from everyone who is not its equal in pain. Profound suffering makes you noble; it separates. One of the most refined forms of disguise is Epicureanism, and a certain showy courage of taste that accepts suffering without a second thought and resists everything sad and profound. There are 'cheerful people' who use cheerfulness because it lets them be misunderstood: - they want to be misunderstood. There are 'scientific people' who use science"}
{"text": "because it gives a cheerful appearance, and because being scientific implies that a person is superficial: - they want to encourage this false inference. Thereare free, impudent spirits who would like to hide and deny that they are shattered, proud, incurable hearts; and sometimes even stupidity is the mask for an ill-fated, all-too-certain knowing. - From which it follows that a more refined humanity will have great respect for 'masks,' and will not indulge in psychology and curiosity in the wrong place."}
{"text": "The thing that separates two people the most is a difference in their sense and degree of cleanliness. All the good behavior, mutual utility, and goodwill in the world will not help: what matters, in the end, is that they 'can't stand the smell of each other!' The highest instinct of cleanliness puts someone afflicted with it into the strangest and most dangerous solitude, in the form of a holy saint: because this is what holiness is - the highest spiritualization of this instinct. Some sort of shared knowledge of an indescribable abundance of joy in bathing, some sort of lust and craving that constantly drives the soul out of the night and into the morning, out of dullness and gloom into light, radiance, profundity, finesse -: however much a tendency like this characterizes somebody (it is a noble tendency), it separates him out as well. - The pity of the saint is a pity for the filth of the human, all-too-human. And there are degrees and heights where he feels even pity as a form of pollution, as filth ..."}
{"text": "Signs of nobility: never thinking about debasing our duties into duties for everyone, not wanting to relinquish, not wanting to share your own responsibility; considering privileges and the exercise of these privileges as a duty . Someonewhostrivesforgreatnesswillregardeveryonehecomesacrossas either a means or a delay and obstacle - or as a temporary resting place. His distinctive and superior graciousness towards his fellow creatures is only possible when he is at his best, at his height, and dominating. Impatience Beyond Good and Evil and his awareness of being condemned to comedy until then (since even war is a comedy and concealment, just as every means conceals the end) ruins all company for him. This type of person knows solitude and what is most poisonous about it."}
{"text": "The problem of those who wait . Strokes of luck and many unpredictable factors are needed for a higher person, who contains the dormant solution to a problem, to go into action at the right time, 'into explosion' you might say. This does not usually happen, and in every corner of the earth people sit waiting, hardly knowing how much they are waiting, much less that they are waiting in vain. And every once in a while, the alarm call will come too late, the chance event that gives them 'permission' to act, - just whentheprimeofyouthandstrength for action has already been depleted by sitting still. And how many people have realized in horror, just as they 'jump up,' that their limbs have gone to sleep and their spirit is already too heavy! 'It's too late' - they say, having lost faith in themselves and being useless from this point on. - What if in the realm of genius, the 'Raphael without hands' (taking that phrase in the broadest sense) is not the exception but, perhaps, the rule? Perhaps genius is not rare at all: what is rare is the five hundred hands that it needs to tyrannize the /rho1 ' o , 'the right time,' in order to seize hold of chance! People who do not want to see someone's height will look all the more closely at everything about him that is low and in the foreground - in so doing, they show themselves for what they really are."}
{"text": "With every type of wound and loss, the lower, cruder soul is better off than the nobler soul. The dangers for the nobler soul must be greater; the likelihood that it will get into an accident and be destroyed is truly enormous, given the diversity of its conditions of life. - When a lizard loses a finger, it grows back: not so with people. - This phrase from Lessing's Emilia Galotti , act I, scene . What is noble?"}
{"text": "- Bad enough! The same old story! When you have finished building your house, you suddenly notice that you have learned something in the process that you absolutely needed to know before you started building. The eternal, tiresome 'too late!' - The melancholy of everything finished ! ... - Wanderer, who are you? I watch you go on your way, without scorn, without love, with impenetrable eyes - damp and downhearted, like a plumb line that returns unsatisfied from every depth back into the light (what was it looking for down there?), with a breast that does not sigh, with lips that hide their disgust, with a hand that only grips slowly: who are you? Whathaveyoudone?Takearesthere,thisspotishospitabletoeveryone,relax! And whoever you may be: what would you like now? What do you find relaxing? Just name it: I'll give you whatever I have! - 'Relaxing? Relaxing? How inquisitive you are! What are you saying! But please, give me - -' What? What? Just say it! - 'Another mask! A second mask!' ... People with deep sorrows reveal this fact about themselves when they are happy: they have a way of grasping hold of happiness, as if they wanted to crush or suffocate it, out of jealousy. Oh, they know only too well that it will run away from them!"}
{"text": "'Too bad! What? Isn't he going - backwards?' - Yes! But you understand him badly if you complain about it. He is going backwards like someone who wants to take a great leap. - -"}
{"text": "- 'Will anyone believe me? But I insist on being believed: I have never been good at thinking about myself, and do so only on very rare occasions, only when forced, without any desire to pursue 'the matter,' ready to"}
{"text": "digress away from 'me,' never with any faith in the results, all due to an unconquerable distrust in the possibility of self-knowledge that has led me to the point where I sense a contradictio in adjecto in even the concept of 'immediate knowledge' that is permitted by theoreticians. This whole state of affairs might be the most certain thing I do know about myself. I must have a kind of revulsion against believing anything definite about myself. Could there be a riddle here? Probably; but fortunately not one for my teeth. - Could this reveal what species I belong to? - But not to me: which is just how I want it to be. -'"}
{"text": "'Butwhathappenedtoyou?'-'Idon'tknow,'hesaidhesitantly;'maybe the harpies flew over the table at me.' - Every once in a while these days, a mild, moderate, restrained person will fly into a sudden fury, smash dishes, knock over tables, scream, throw fits, insult everyone - and finally go off, ashamed, furious at himself, - but where? And why? To starve far away? To choke on his memory? - The danger will always be considerable for someone with the desires of a high and discriminating soul, who rarely finds his table set and his food ready: today, however, the danger will be extraordinary. Thrown into a noisy, vulgar age and not wanting to eat out of a single one of its bowls, he can easily die of hunger and thirst, or, if he finally 'digs in' anyway, he can be destroyed - by sudden nausea. - We have probably all sat at tables where we did not belong; and the most spiritual among us (who are also the most difficult to feed), are familiar with that dangerous dyspepsia that comes from a sudden insight into and disappointmentoverourfoodanddiningcompanions,-the after-dinner nausea ."}
{"text": "It shows both subtle and noble self-control when you reserve your praise (assuming you want to give praise at all) for things you dis agree with: otherwise you would certainly be praising yourself, which offends good taste. Of course, this type of self-control offers people a handy opportunity and excuse for constantly misunderstanding you. In order to allow yourself this real luxury of taste and morality, you cannot live with fools of the spirit; you have to live among people whose misunderstandings and mistakes Contradiction in terms."}
{"text": "are subtle, and for that reason still amusing - or else you will have to pay dearly for it! - 'He praises me: that's why he agrees with me' - this asinine inference ruins the better part of life for us hermits, because it brings asses into our neighborhood and friendship."}
{"text": "To live with immense and proud composure; always beyond -. To freely have or not have your affects, your pros and cons, to condescend to them for a few hours; to seat yourself on them like you would on a horse or often like you would on an ass: - since you need to know how to use your stupidity as well as you know how to use your fire. To keep your three hundred foregrounds, and your dark glasses too: because there are times when nobody can look into our eyes, or even less into our 'grounds.' And to choose for company that mischievous and cheerful vice, politeness. And to keep control over your four virtues: courage, insight, sympathy, solitude. Because solitude is a virtue for us, since it is a sublime inclination and impulse to cleanliness which shows that contact between people ('society') inevitably makes things unclean. Somewhere, sometime, every community makes people - 'base.'"}
{"text": "The greatest events and thoughts - but the greatest thoughts are the greatest events - are the last to be comprehended: generations that are their contemporaries do not experience these sorts of events, - they live right past them. The same thing happens here as happens in the realm of stars. The light from the furthest stars is the last to come to people; and until it has arrived, people will deny that there are - stars out there. 'Howmanycenturies does it take for a spirit to be comprehended?' - this standard is also used to create the rank order and etiquette needed - by both spirit and star. -"}
{"text": "'Thevision is free here and the spirit elevated.' -Butthere is an inverse type of person who is also at a height and also has a free vision - but who looks down . Cf. Goethe's Faust II, line f."}
{"text": "- What is noble? What does the word 'noble' still mean to us today? How do noble people reveal who they are, how can they be recognized under this heavy, overcast sky of incipient mob rule that makes everything leaden and opaque? - There are no actions that prove who they are, - actions are always ambiguous, always unfathomable -; and there are no 'works' either. Among artists and scholars these days, you will find plenty of people whose works reveal them to be driven by a deep desire for nobility. But this very need for nobility is fundamentally different from the needs of the noble soul itself, and almost serves as an eloquent and dangerous testimony to the absence of such needs. It is not works, it is faith that is decisive here, faith that establishes rank order (this old, religious formula now acquires a new and deeper meaning): some fundamental certainty that a noble soul has about itself, something that cannot be looked for, cannot be found, and perhaps cannot be lost either. The noble soul has reverence for itself .-"}
{"text": "There are people who cannot avoid the fact that they have spirit, however much they might turn and twist, holding up their hands to prevent their eyes from giving them away (- as if their hands did not betray them too! -): in the end, they are always shown to be hiding something, namely spirit. One of the most subtle ways of deceiving people (at least for as long as this is possible), and successfully pretending to be more stupid than you really are (a skill that is as handy as an umbrella, in day-to-day life), is enthusiasm : including what belongs to it - virtue, for instance. Because, as Galiani said, and he must have known -: vertu est enthousiasme ."}
{"text": "In a hermit's writings, you can always hear something of the echo of the desert, something of the whisper and the timid sideways glance of solitude. A new and more dangerous type of silence, of concealment, rings out in his strongest words, even in his cries. Anyone who has sat alone with 'Virtue is enthusiasm' from Galiani's Letter to Madame d'Epinay , II, p. ."}
{"text": "his soul in intimate dispute and dialogue, year in, and year out, day and night, anyone who has become a cave bear or treasure hunter or treasure guard and dragon in his cave (which might be a labyrinth but also a gold mine): his very concepts will come to acquire their own twilight color, the smell of depth just as much as of mildew, something uncommunicative and reluctant that blows a chill on everything going past. The hermit does not believe that a philosopher - given that a philosopher was always a hermit first - has ever expressed his actual and final opinions in books: don't people write books precisely to keep what they hide to themselves? In fact, he will doubt whether a philosopher could even have 'final and actual' opinions, whether for a philosopher every cave does not have, must not have, an even deeper cave behind it - a more extensive, stranger, richer world above the surface, an abyss behind every ground, under every 'groundwork.' Every philosophy is a foreground philosophy - that is a hermit's judgment: 'There is something arbitrary in his stopping here, looking back, looking around, in his not digging any deeper here , and putting his spade away - there is also something suspicious about it.' Every philosophy conceals a philosophy too: every opinion is also a hiding place, every word is also a mask."}
{"text": "Every profound thinker is more afraid of being understood than of being misunderstood. The latter might hurt his vanity; but the former hurts his heart and his sympathy which always says: 'Oh, why do you want things to be as hard for you as they are for me?'"}
{"text": "The human being is a diverse, hypocritical, artificial, and opaque animal, uncannytootheranimals more because of his cunning and cleverness than his strength; the human being invented good conscience so that he could enjoy his soul as something simple , for once; and the whole of morality is a brave and lengthy falsification that makes it possible to look at the soul with anything like pleasure. Perhaps this point of view involves a much broader conception of 'art' than people are used to. In German: ein Abgrund hinter jedem Grunde, unter jeder 'Begrundung.'"}
{"text": "A philosopher: this is a person who constantly experiences, sees, hears, suspects, hopes, and dreams extraordinary things; who is struck by his own thoughts as if from outside, from above and below, as if by his type of events and lightning bolts; who is perhaps a storm himself, pregnant with new lightning; a fatal person in whose vicinity things are always rumbling, growling, gaping, and acting in uncanny ways. A philosopher: oh, a being who is frequently running away from himself, frequently afraid of himself, - but too curious not to always come back to himself ..."}
{"text": "A man who says: 'I like that, I'll take it for my own and protect it and defend it against everyone'; a man who can conduct business, carry out a resolution, be faithful to a thought, hold on to a woman, punish and defeat someone for being insolent; a man who has his anger and his sword, and whom the weak, the suffering, the distressed, and even the animals like to come to and, by nature, belong to; in short, a man who is naturally master , - if a man like this has pity, well then! this pity is worth something! But what good is the pity of the sufferer! Or particularly, the pity of those who preach it! Almost everywhere in Europe today, there is a morbid over-sensitivity and susceptibility to pain, as well as an excessive amount of complaining and an increased tenderness that wants to dress itself up as something higher, using religion as well as bits and pieces of philosophy, thereisarealcultof suffering.The unmanliness ofwhatischristened'pity' in the circles of these enthusiasts is always, I think, the first thing that strikes your eye. - This latest type of bad taste needs to be forcefully and thoroughly exorcized; and ultimately, I would like people to put the good amulet of ' gai saber ' around their hearts and necks to fight it off, - 'gay science,' to make it germane to Germans."}
{"text": "The Olympian vice. - In spite of that philosopher who, being a true Englishman, tried to give laughter a bad reputation among all thoughtful Nietzsche is again playing on the similarity between Mitleiden (pity) and leiden (to suffer). In German: um es den Deutschen zu verdeutlichen (literally: to clarify it to Germans)."}
{"text": "people -, 'laughter is a terrible infirmity of human nature, and one that every thinking mind will endeavor to overcome' (Hobbes) -, I would go so far as to allow myself a rank order of philosophers based on the rank of their laughter - right up to those who are capable of golden laughter. And given that even gods philosophize (a conclusion I have been drawn to many times -), I do not doubt that they know a new and super-human way of laughing - at the expense of everything serious! Gods like to make fun of things: it seems as if they cannot stop laughing, even during holy rites."}
{"text": "The genius of the heart, as it is possessed by that great hidden one, the tempter god and born pied piper of consciences, whose voice knows how to descend into the underworld of every soul, whose every word and every glance conveys both consideration and a wrinkle of temptation, whose mastery includes an understanding of how to seem - not like what he is but rather like one more compulsion for his followers to keep pressing closer to him, to keep following him more inwardly and thoroughly: - the genius of the heart, that makes everything loud and complacent fall silent and learn to listen, that smoothes out rough souls and gives them the taste of a new desire, - to lie still, like a mirror that the deep sky can mirror itself upon -; the genius of the heart, that teaches the foolish and over-hasty hand to hesitate and reach out more delicately; that guesses the hidden and forgotten treasure, the drop of goodness and sweet spirituality under thick, dull ice, and is a divining rod for every speck of gold that has long been buried in a prison of mud and sand; the genius of the heart, that enriches everyone who has come into contact with it, not making them blessed or surprised, or leaving them feeling as if they have been gladdened or saddened by external goods; rather, they are made richer in themselves, newer than before, broken open, blown on, and sounded out by a thawing wind, perhaps less certain, more gentle, fragile, and broken, but full of hopes that do not have names yet, full of new wills and currents, full of new indignations and countercurrents ... but what am I doing, my friends? Who am I talking about? Have I forgotten myself so much that I haven't even told you his name? Unless you have already guessed on your In German: Versucher-Gott . This could also mean the 'experimenting god.' Beyond Good and Evil own who this questionable spirit and god is, who wants to be praised in this way?"}
{"text": "Like everyone who, from childhood, has constantly been underway and abroad, I have had many strange and not unthreatening spirits run across my path, but especially the one I have just been talking about, who has crossed my path again and again - in other words, nobody less than the god Dionysus , that great ambiguity and tempter god, to whom, as you know, I once offered my firstborn in all secrecy and reverence. I seem to be the last one to have offered him a sacrifice : because I have not found anyone who understood what I was doing then. In the meantime, I have learned much, all too much more about the philosophy of this god, passed on, as I said, from mouth to mouth - I, the last disciple and initiate of the god Dionysus: and can I, at last, start to give you, my friends, a small taste of this philosophy, as far as I am permitted? In undertones, which would be best, since it concerns many things that are secret, new, foreign, strange, uncanny. Even the fact that Dionysus is a philosopher and that, consequently, even gods philosophize, seems to me like something new and not without its dangers, something that might arouse mistrust precisely among philosophers, - among you, my friends, it has less opposition, unless it comes too late and at the wrong time: I have been told that you do not like believing in God and gods these days. And perhaps in recounting my story, I will have to take frankness further than will always be agreeable to the strict habits of your ears? Certainly, the god in question went further in dialogues like this, much, much further, and was always many steps ahead of me ... In fact, if it were permissible to follow human custom in ascribing beautiful, solemn names of splendor and virtue to him, I would have to offer many praises for his explorer's, discoverer's heart, for his daring and genuine honesty, his truthfulness and his love of wisdom. But a god like this will have no use at all for this honorable rubbish and splendor. 'Keep this for yourself,' he would say, 'and for those like you and anyone else who needs it! I - have no reason for covering my nakedness!' - You can guess: this type of divinity and philosopher is, perhaps, lacking in shame? - He once"}
{"text": "said: 'I love humans under certain circumstances' - meaning Ariadne, who was present -: 'I think humans are pleasant, brave, inventive animals that have no equal on earth, they find their way around any labyrinth. I am very fond of AreferencetoNietzsche'sfirstpublished book, DieGeburtderTrag odie ( TheBirthofTragedy )( )."}
{"text": "them: I think about how I can help them advance and make them stronger, more evil and more profound than they are.' - 'Stronger, more evil, and more profound?' I asked, startled. - 'Yes,' he said again, 'stronger, more evil, and more profound; and more beautiful' - and at that, the tempter godsmiledhishalcyonsmile,asifhehadjustpaidacharmingcompliment. You can see: this divinity lacks more than just shame -; but you can also see that there are good reasons for supposing that the gods could learn a thing or two from us humans. We humans are - more human ..."}
{"text": "Oh, what are you anyway, my written and painted thoughts! It was not long ago that you were still so colorful, young and malicious, so full of thorns and secret spices that you made me sneeze and laugh - and now? You have already lost your novelty, and I am afraid that some of you are ready to turn into truths: they already look so immortal, so pathetically decent and upright, so boring! And was it ever any different? So, what subjects do we copy out and paint, we mandarins with Chinese brushes, we immortalizers of things that let themselves be written - what are the only things we can paint? Oh, only ever things that are about to wilt and lose their smell! Only ever storms that have exhausted themselves and are moving off, and feelings that are yellowed and late! Only ever birds that have flown and flown astray until they are tired and can be caught by hand, - by our hand! We only immortalize things that cannot live and fly for much longer, only tired and worn-out things! And I only have colors for your afternoon , my written and painted thoughts, perhaps many colors, many colorful affections and fifty yellows and browns and greens and reds: - but nobody will guess from this how you looked in your morning, you sudden sparks and wonders of my solitude, you, my old, beloved - wicked thoughts! In German: menschlicher . This could also mean 'more humane.'"}
{"text": "Aftersong Oh noon of life! Oh summer garden site For celebrating! There's restless joy in standing watch and waiting! I wait for friends, I'm ready day and night Where are you, friends? Do come! The time is right! For you, the glacier clothes its old gray hue In rose attire, The rivers seek you, running with desire, The winds and clouds climb high into the blue, As high as birds - to keep their watch for you. My table waits for you with each delight: Such lonely ledges Are home to few, save stars and chasms' edges. My realm - its bounds reach past the range of sight, My honey too - who dreams they'll taste the like? ... - Oh friends, you're there ! But - what grave ill portends? Am I a stranger? You pause; your wonder wounds far worse than anger! I am no more? - In face, or stride or hands? But am I not what I am for you, friends? So was I once another? Self-unknown? I've left my own source? A strength too often set against its own force? A wrestler beaten by himself alone, And wounded by a victory of his own? Nietzsche follows a very strict rhyme and rhythmic scheme in this poem; the rhyme is ABBAA throughout, and the meter follows a classical ode form (both are preserved in this translation). From high mountains: Aftersong I've looked where sharpest winds blow frozen air? I've made my home here, On glaciers where no other soul dares roam near, Forgot both man and god, both curse and prayer? Became a ghost who walked with polar bears? - Old friends! See here! Your faces have gone white, With love - and pain too! Just leave in peace: there's nothing to detain you : Here in the distant ice-filled rocky height This realm belongs to hunters, born to fight! I'm now a wicked huntsman! Look - my bow Is stiff and stock straight! The strong alone can pull back such a taut weight - -: Take care! My arrow's speed is far from slow, The danger's great - so flee to safety! go! ... You're turning back? - Oh heart, this blow hits hard, But hope must stay fast:"}
{"text": "Hold open doors as new friends make their way past! Old friends must be left back! Old memories barred! You once were young - now, youth has been restored! We shared one hope - that was our common band, Now - who reads these signs That love had once inscribed, such faded half-lines? They look just like a parchment that the hand is loath to touch, - they're just browned and tanned. What are they called? - since friendship's at an end Just ghostly brothers! Who rattle nightly on my heart and shutters, Who look at me and say: 'you were my friend' - Those wilted words once bore a rosebud scent! Oh youthful longing; how you failed to see Dashed expectations! Those friends turned family, seeming close relations, - How they grew old , and turned their heels to flee: For only those who change keep ties with me. Beyond Good and Evil Oh noon of life! Oh summer garden bright! Oh youth returning! There's restless joy in waiting, watching, yearning! I wait for friends, I'm ready day and night The new friends now! Do come! The time is right! This song is gone, - the longing cries are through, Their sweet sounds ended. The work of a magician I'd befriended, The friend of noon-time - but - no! don't ask who It was at noon, when one turned into two ... Now we can feast, with triumph in the air, The fest of all fests: Friend Zarathustra came, the guest of all guests! The world can laugh, the gruesome curtain tear, The wedding day of light and dark was here ... Aeschylus ( c . Alcibiades ( c . Athenian statesman and general"}
{"text": "- B.C.) - B.C.) Greek mythological figure Athenian author of comedies Ariadne Aristophanes ( c . - B.C.) Athena Greek goddess of war and wisdom Augustinus, Aurelius ( - ) Roman philosopher Bacon, Francis, viscount of Verulam ( - ) English philosopher Balzac, Honor'ede( - ) French novelist Bayle, Pierre ( - ) French philosopher Beethoven, Ludwig van ( - ) German composer Bentham, Jeremy ( - ) English philosopher Berkeley, George ( - ) Irish philosopher Beyle, Henri see Stendhal Bizet, Georges ( - ) French composer Borgia, Cesare ( - ) Florentine nobleman Boscovich, Ruggiero Giuseppe ( - ) Dalmatian mathematician and philosopher Bruno, Giordano ( - ) Italian philosopher Byron, George Noel Gordon, Lord ( - ) English poet, author of Manfred Caesar, Gaius Julius ( - B.C.) Roman statesman and general Cagliostro, Alessandro, Count (Balsamo, Giuseppe) ( - ) Italian adventurer Carlyle, Thomas ( - ) Scottish philosopher and historian Athenian dramatist Catilina, Lucius Sergius ( c . - B.C.) Roman nobleman Cicero, Marcus Tullius ( - B.C.) Roman philosopher and politician Circe Greek mythological figure Comte, Auguste ( - ) French philosopher Copernicus, Nicholas ( - ) Polish astronomer Cromwell, Oliver ( - ) English statesman Dante Alighieri ( - ) Italian poet, author of La Divina Commedia Darwin, Charles Robert ( - ) English biologist Delacroix, Ferdinand Victor Eug'ene ( - ) French painter Demosthenes ( - B.C.) Greek orator and statesman Descartes, Ren'e( - ) French philosopher Diderot, Denis ( - ) French philosopher Dionysus Greek god Duhring, Karl Eugen ( - ) German philosopher, author of Der Werth des Lebens and Wirklichkeitsphilosophie Empedocles (fifth century B.C.) statesman Epicurus ( - B.C.) Presocratic philosopher and Greek philosopher German philosopher, author of"}
{"text": "Fichte, Johann Gottlieb ( - ) Speeches to the German Nation Flaubert, Gustave ( - ) French novelist Frederick II (the Great) ( - ) king of Prussia Frederick II of Hohenstaufen ( - ) German emperor Frederick William I ( - ) king of Prussia Italian economist, author of Lettres 'a Galiani, Ferdinando ( - ) Mme d'Epinay Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von ( - ) German poet, novelist, and statesman, author of Faust and Die Leiden des jungen Werther Gogol, Nikolaj Vassilevic ( - ) Russian novelist Guyon, Jeanne Marie de ( - ) French writer Hafiz (Mohammed Schams od-Din) ( c . - ) Persian poet Hartmann, Eduard von ( - ) German philosopher"}
{"text": "Nietzsche published each of the first three parts of Thus Spoke Zarathustra (TSZ hereafter) separately between and , during one of his most productive and interesting periods, in between the appearance of The Gay Science (which he noted had itself marked a new beginning of his thought) and Beyond Good and Evil .Aswith the rest of his books, very few copies were sold. He later wrote a fourth part (called 'Fourth and Final Part') which was not published until , and then privately, only for a few friends, by which time Nietzsche had slipped into the insanity that marked the last decade of his life. Not long afterwards an edition with all four parts published together appeared, and most editions and translations have followed suit, treating the four parts as somehow belonging in one book, although many scholars see a natural ending of sorts after Part and regard Part as more of an appendix than a central element in the drama narrated by the work. Nietzsche, who was trained as a classicist, may have been thinking of the traditional tragedy competitions in ancient Greece, where entrants submitted three tragedies and a fourth play, a comic and somewhat bawdy satyr play. At any event, he thought of this final section as in some sense the 'Fourth Part' and any interpretation must come to terms with it. Nietzsche went mad in January .For more on the problem of Part , see Laurence Lampert's discussion in Nietzsche's Teaching: An Interpretation of 'Thus Spoke Zarathustra ' (New Haven: Yale University Press, ), pp. - .For a contrasting view (that Part is integral to the work and a genuine conclusion), see Robert Gooding-Williams, Zarathustra's Dionysian Modernism (Stanford: Stanford University Press, ). viii"}
{"text": "TSZ is unlike any of Nietzsche's other works, which themselves are unlike virtually anything else in the history of philosophy. Nietzsche himself provides no preface or introduction, although the section on TSZ in his late book, Ecce Homo , and especially its last section, 'Why I am a Destiny,' are invaluable guides to what he might have been up to. Zarathustra seemstobesomesortofprophet,calling people, modern European Christian people especially, to account for their failings and encouraging them to pursue a new way of life. (As we shall discuss in a moment, even this simple characterization is immediately complicated by the fact that Nietzsche insists that this has nothing to do with a 'replacement' religion, and that the book is as much a parody of a prophetic view as it is an instance of it.) In Ecce Homo Nietzsche expresses some irritation that no one has wondered about the odd name of this prophet. Zarathustra was a Persian prophet (known to the Greeks as Zoroaster) and he is important for Nietzsche because he originally established that the central struggle in human life (even cosmic life) was between two absolutely distinct principles, between good and evil, which Nietzsche interpreted in Christian and humanist terms as the opposition between selflessness and benevolence on the one hand and egoism and self-interest on the other. Nietzsche tells us two things about this prophet: Zarathustra created this fateful error of morality: this means he has to be the first to recognize it. (Nietzsche means that Zarathustra was the first to recognize its calamitous consequences.) And: [t]he self-overcoming of morality from out of truthfulness; the selfovercoming of the moralists into their opposite - into me - that is what the name Zarathustra means coming from my mouth. That is, we can now live, Zarathustra attempts to teach, freed from the picture of this absolute dualism, but without moral anarchy and without sliding into a bovine contentment or a violent primitivism. Sometimes, especially in the first two parts, this new way of living is presented Cf. Friedrich Nietzsche, Ecce Homo (hereafter EH), in The Anti-Christ, Ecce Homo, Twilight of the Idols , trans. Judith Norman (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), , pp. - ."}
{"text": "Estimates about when Zarathustra actually lived vary from to . Somewhere between and would appear the safest guess. Nietzsche, however, evinces virtually no interest in the historical Zarathustra or the actual religion of Zoroastrianism. EH, , p. . Ibid. ix in sweeping and collective, historical terms, as an epochal transition from mere human being to an 'overman,' virtually a new species. This way of characterizing the problem tends to drop out after Part , and Zarathustra focuses his attention on what he often calls the problem of self-overcoming: how each of us, as individuals, might come to be dissatisfied with our way of living and so be able to strive for something better, even if the traditional supports for and guidance toward such a goal seem no longer credible (e.g. the idea of the purpose of human nature, or what is revealed by religion, or any objective view of human happiness and so forth). And in Part Zarathustra asks much more broadly about a whole new way of thinking about or imagining ourselves that he believes is necessary for this sort of re-orientation. He suggests that such a possibility depends on how we come to understand and experience temporality at a very basic level, and he introduces a famous image, 'the eternal return of the same' (which he elsewhere calls Zarathustra's central teaching), to begin to grapple with the problem. He himself becomes deathly ill in contemplating this cyclical picture; not surprisingly since it seems to deny a possibility he himself had hoped for at the outset - a decisive historical revolution, a time after which all would be different from the time before. Many of the basic issues in the book are raised by considering what it means for Zarathustra to suffer from and then 'recover' from such an 'illness.'"}
{"text": "TSZisoftenreported to be Nietzsche's most popular and most read book, but the fact that the book is so unusual and often hermetic has made for wildly different sorts of reception. Here is one that is typical of the kind of popular reputation Nietzsche has in modern culture: Together with Goethe's Faust and the New Testament, Zarathustra was the most popular work that literate soldiers took into battle for inspiration and consolation [in WW I - RP]. The 'beautiful words' of Zarathustra, one author wrote, were especially apt for the Germans who 'more than any other Volk possessed fighting natures in Zarathustra's sense.' About , copies of a specially durable wartime Zarathustra were distributed to the troops. Steven Aschheim, TheNietzsche Legacy in Germany, - (Berkeley: University of California Press, ), p. . The quotation cited is from Rektor P. Hoche, 'Nietzsche und der deutsche Kampf,' Zeitung f ur Literatur, Kunst und Wissenschaft : ( March ). x"}
{"text": "Now it is hard to imagine a book less suitable for such a purpose than Nietzsche's Thus Spoke Zarathustra . It is true that Zarathustra had famously said, 'You say it is the good cause that hallows even war? I tell you: it is the good war that hallows any cause' (p. ), but even that passage is surrounded by claims that the highest aspiration is actually to be a 'saint of knowledge,' and that only failing that should one become a warrior (what sort of continuum could this be?), and that the 'highest thought' of such warriors should be one commanded by Zarathustra, and it should have nothing to do with states and territory but with the injunction that human being shall be overcome. (What armies would be fighting whom in such a cause?) Moreover one wonders what 'inspiration and consolation' our 'literate soldiers' could have found in the Fellini-esque title character, himself hardly possessed of a 'warlike nature,' chronically indecisive, sometimes self-pitying, wandering, speechifying, dancing about and encouraging others to dance, consorting mostly with animals, confused disciples, a dwarf, and his two mistresses. And what could they have made of the speeches, with those references to bees overloaded with honey, soothsayers, gravediggers, bursting coffins, pale criminals, red judges, self-propelling wheels, shepherds choking on snakes, tarantulas, 'little golden fishing rods of wisdom,' Zarathustra's ape, Zarathustra speaking too 'crudely and sincerely' for 'Angora rabbits,' and the worship of a jackass in Part , with that circle of an old king, a magician, the last pope, a beggar, a shadow, the conscientious of spirit, and a sad soothsayer? Whatinfactcould anyone makeofthisbewilderingwork,partsofwhich seem more hermetic than Celan, parts more self-indulgent and bizarre than bad Bob Dylan lyrics? Do we know what we are meant to make of it? Nietzsche himself, in Ecce Homo , was willing to say a number of things about the work, that in it he is the 'inventor of the dithyramb,' that with"}
{"text": "In EH, ,p. when Nietzsche says that after Zarathustra 'the concept of politics will have then merged entirely into a war of spirits' he does not pause to tell us what a war, not of bodies, but of spirits might be. And he goes on to say 'there will be wars such as the earth has never seen,' and we might note that he seems to mean that different sorts, types of 'wars' will make up 'great politics.' Cf. EH, , p. : 'I do not want to be a saint, I would rather be a buffoon . . . Perhaps I am a buffoon . . . And yet in spite of this or rather not in spite of this - because nothing to date has been more hypocritical than saints - the truth speaks from out of me. - But the truth is terrible : because lies have been called truth so far.' Adithyramb was a choral hymn sung in the classical period in Greece by fifty men or boys to honor the god Dionysus. xi Introduction TSZ he became the 'first tragic philosopher,' and that TSZ should be understood as 'music.' When it is announced, as the work to follow The Gay Science , we are clearly warned of the difficulty that will challenge any reader. Section had concluded the original version of The Gay Science with 'Incipit tragoedia,' and then the first paragraph of TSZ's Prologue. Nietzsche's warning comes in the second edition Preface: ' Incipit tragoedia' [tragedy begins] we read at the end of this suspiciously innocent book. Beware! Something utterly wicked and mischievous is being announced here: incipit parodia [parody begins], no doubt.'"}
{"text": "Are there other works that could be said to be both tragedies and parodies? Don Quixote , perhaps, a work in many other ways also quite similar to TSZ? If Nietzsche announced that his TSZ can and should be read as a parody, what exactly would that mean? I do not mean what it would mean to find parts of it funny; I mean trying to understand how it could be both a prophetic book and a kind of send-up of a prophetic book. HowitcouldbothpresentZarathustra as a teacher and parody his attempt to play that role? Why has the work remained for the most part a place simply to mine for quotations in support of Nietzschean 'theories' of the overman,theEternalReturnoftheSame,andthe'lasthumanbeings';all as if the theories were contained inside an ornate literary form, delivered by Nietzsche's surrogate, an ancient Persian prophet? At the very least, especially when we look also to virtually everything written after the later s, when Nietzsche in effect abandoned the traditional essay form in favor of less continuous, more aphoristic, and here parabolic forms, it is clear that Nietzsche wanted to resist incorporation into traditional philosophy, to escape traditional assumptions about the writing of philosophy. In a way that point is obvious, nowhere more obvious than in the form of TSZ, even if the steady stream of books about Nietzsche's metaphysics, or value theory, or even epistemology shows no sign of abating. The two Friedrich Nietzsche, The Gay Science (hereafter GS), edited by Bernard Williams (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press), , p. . The intertwining of the two dramatic modes of tragedy and comic parody appear throughout the text. A typical example is at the end of 'The Wanderer' in Part , when Zarathustra laughs in a kind of self-mocking and then weeps as he remembers the friends he has had to leave behind. (p. ). It is also very likely that Nietzsche, the 'old philologist,' is referring to the end of Plato's Symposium , where Socrates claims that what we need is someone who can write both tragedies and comedies, that the tragic poet might also be comic ( Symposium , c-d). xii"}
{"text": "more interesting questions are rather, first, what one takes such resistance to mean, what the practical point is, we might say, of the act of so resisting, what Nietzsche is trying to do with his books, as much as what his books mean, if we are not to understand them in the traditional philosophical sense. (It would have been helpful if, in Ecce Homo , Nietzsche had not just written the chapter 'Why I Write Such Good Books,' but 'Why I Write Books At All.') Secondly, why has this resistance been so resisted, to the point that there are not even many disputes about TSZ, no contesting views about what parodia might have meant? One obvious answer should be addressed immediately. It may be so hard to know what TSZ is for, and so easy simply to plunder it unsystematically, because the work is in large part a failure. TSZ echoes Romantic attempts at created mythologies, such as William Blake's, as well as Wagner's attempt to re-work Teutonic myth, but it remains so sui generis and unclassifiable that it resists even the broadest sort of category and does not itself instruct us, at least not very clearly or very well, about how to read it. That it is both a tragedy and a parody helps little with the details. Large stretches of it seem ponderous and turgid, mysteriously abandoning Nietzsche's characteristic light touch and pithy wit. The many dreams and dream images appealed to by Zarathustra jumble together so much (in one case, grimacing children, angels, owls, fools, and butterflies as big as children tumble out of a broken coffin) that an attempt at interpretation seems beside the point. (When a disciple tries to offer a reading of this dream - and seems to do a pretty fair job of it - Zarathustra ultimately just stares into this disciple's face and shakes his head with apparent deep disappointment.) These difficulties have all insured that TSZ is not read or studied in university philosophy departments anywhere near as often as the Nietzschean standards, The Birth of Tragedy , The Uses and Disadvantages of History , Beyond Good and Evil , and The Genealogy of Morals ."}
{"text": "This is understandable, but such judgments may be quite premature. Throughouttheshortandextremelyvolatile reception of his work, Nietzsche may not yet have been given enough leeway with his various experiments in a new kind of philosophical writing, may have been subject much too quickly to philosophical 'translations.' This is an issue - how to write philosophy under contemporary historical conditions, or even how to write 'philosophically' now that much of traditional philosophy itself is no longer historically credible - that Nietzsche obviously devoted xiii agreat deal of thought to, and it is extremely unlikely that his conclusions would not show up in worked out, highly crafted forms. They ask of the reader something different than traditional reading and understanding, but they are asking for some effort, even demanding it, from readers. This is especially at issue in TSZ since in so far as it could be said to have a dominant theme, it is this problem, Zarathustra's problem: who is his audience? What is he trying to accomplish? How does he think he should go about this? While it is pretty clear what it means for his teaching to be rejected, he seems himself very unsure of what would count as having that teaching understood and accepted. (The theme - the question we have to understand first before anything in the work can be addressed is clearly announced in the subtitle: A Book for All and None . How could a book be for all and none?)"}
{"text": "Onthe face of it at least some answers seem accessible from the plot of the work. Zarathustra leaves his cave to revisit the human world because he wants both to prophesy and help hasten the advent of something like a new 'attempt' on the part of mankind, a post 'beyond' or 'over the human' ( Ubermensch ) aspiration. Such a goal would be free of the psychological dimensions that have led the human type into a state of some crisis (made worse by the fact that most do not think a crisis has occurred or that any new attempt is necessary). Much of the first two parts is thus occupied with setting out these failings, and the various human types who most embody them, railing against them by showing what they have cost us, and intimating how things might be different. Some such failings, like havingthewrongsortofrelationtooneself,orbeingburdenedwithaspirit of revenge against time itself, are particularly important. So we are treated to brief characterizations of the despisers of the body, the pale criminal, the preachers of death, warriors, chastity, the pitying, the hinterworldly, the bestowers of virtue, women, priests, the virtuous, the rabble, the sublime ones, poets, and scholars. Along the way these typologies, one might call them, are interrupted by even more figurative parables (On the Adder's Bite, the Blessed Isles, Tarantulas, the Stillest Hour), by highly figurative homilies on such topics as friends, marriage, a free death, self-overcoming, redemption, and prudence, as well as by three songs, Night Song, Dance Song, and Grave Song. xiv"}
{"text": "However, we encounter a very difficult issue right away when we try to take account of the fact that in all these discussions, Zarathustra's account is throughout so highly parabolic, metaphorical, and aphoristic. Rather than state various claims about virtues and the present age and religion and aspirations, Zarathustra speaks about stars, animals, trees, tarantulas, dreams, and so forth. Explanations and claims are almost always analogical and figurative. (In his discussion of TSZ in Ecce Homo , Nietzsche wrote, 'The most powerful force of metaphor that has ever existed is poor and trivial compared with the return of language to the nature of imagery.') Whyis his message given in such a highly figurative, literary way? It is an important question because it goes to the heart of Nietzsche's own view of his relation to traditional philosophy, and how the literary and rhetorical form of his books marks whatever sort of new beginning he thinks he has made. Philosophy after all has traditionally thought of itself as clarifying what is unclear, and as attempting to justify what in the everyday world too often passes without challenge. Philosophy tries to reveal, we might say in general, what is hidden (in presuppositions, commitments, folk wisdom, etc.). If we think of literature in such traditional ways, though, then there is a clear contrast. A literary work does not assert anything. 'Meaning' in a poem or play or novel is not only hidden, and requires effort to find; our sense of the greatness of great literature is bound up with our sense that the credibility and authority of such works rests on how much and how complexly meaning is both profoundly and unavoidably hidden and enticingly intimated, promised; how difficult to discern, but 'there,' extractable in prosaic summaries only with great distortion. Contrary to the philosophical attempt (or fantasy) of freeing ordinary life from illusions, confusions and unjustified presuppositions, one way in which a literary treatment departs from ordinary life lies in its great compression of possible meanings, defamiliarization, 'showing' paradoxically how much more is hidden, mysterious, sublime in ordinary life than is ordinarily understood. (One thinks of Emily Dickinson's pithy summary: 'Nature is a haunted house, but art is a house that wants to be haunted.') EH, , p. ."}
{"text": "Emily Dickinson, Emily Dickinson: Selected Letters, ed. T. H. Johnson (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, ), p. . There is another text by a 'Nietzschean' author that might also serve as, might even have been, a commentary on this aspect of TSZ - Kafka's famous parable, 'On Parables:' xv Introduction Whatwoulditmeantopresenta'teaching'withsomanyphilosophical resonances, so close to the philosophy we might call 'value theory,' in a way that not only leaves so much hidden, but that in effect heightens our sense of the interpretive work that must be done before philosophical reflection can hope to begin (if even then), and even further impedes any hermeneutic response by inventing a context so unfamiliar and often bizarre? There is a famous claim concerning truth and appearance and a set of complex images that are both relevant to this question."}
{"text": "In more traditional philosophical terms, Nietzsche often stresses that we start going wrong when we become captured by the picture of revealing 'reality,' the 'truth,' beneath appearances, in mere opinions. This can be particularly misleading, Nietzsche often states, when we think of ourselves in post-Kantian modernity as having exposed the supposed groundlessness'underneath'thedeceptiveappearancesofvalueandpurpose, when we think that we have rendered impossible any continuation of Zarathustra's pronounced love of human beings, life, and the earth. Some impasse in the possible affirmation of value (what Zarathustra calls Manycomplain that the words of the wise are always merely parables and of no use in daily life, which is the only life we have. When the sage says, 'Go over,' he does not mean that we should cross to some actual place, which we could do anyhow if the labor were worth it; he means some fabulous yonder [Druben], something unknown to us, something that he cannot designate more precisely either, and therefore cannot help us here in the very least. All these parables set out to say merely that the incomprehensible is incomprehensible, and we know that already. But the cares we have to struggle with every day; that is a different matter. Concerning this a man once said: Why such reluctance? If you only followed the parables you yourselves would become parables and with that rid of all your daily cares. Another said: I bet that is also a parable. The first said: You have won. The second said: But unfortunately only in parable. The first said: No, in reality; in parable you have lost . Franz Kafka, The Basic Kafka (New York: Pocket Books, ), p. .Itiswellknown that Kafka read and admired Nietzsche. The story about his vigorous defense of Nietzsche against Max Brod's charge that Nietzsche was a 'fraud' is often cited. See Klaus Wagenbach, Kafka , trans. Ewald Osers (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, ), p. ."}
{"text": "I pass over here another complex dimension of Nietzsche's literary style. Zarathustra is not Nietzsche, any more than Prospero is Shakespeare, and appreciating the literary irony of the work is indispensable to a full reading. I have tried to sketch an interpretation along these lines in 'Irony and Affirmation in Nietzsche's Thus Spoke Zarathustra, ' in Nietzsche's New Seas: Explorations in Philosophy, Aesthetics, and Politics , ed. Michael Allen Gillespie and Tracy Strong (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, ), pp. - . xvi"}
{"text": "'esteeming') has been reached ('nihilism') but this 'radical enlightenment' picture is not the right description. (See Zarathustra's attack on the 'preachers of death' and his rejection there of the melancholy that might result when 'they encounter a sick or a very old person or a corpse, and right away they say, 'life is refuted'' (p. ).) And Nietzsche clearly wants to discard as misleading that simple distinction between appearance and reality itself. He is well known for claiming, in his own mini-version of the self-education of the human spirit in The Twilight of the Idols , that We have abolished the real world: what world is left? The apparent world perhaps? . . . But no! with the real world we have also abolished the apparent world. However, even if this sort of suspicion of the everyday appearances (that they are merely a pale copy of the true world, the true ideal, etc.) is rejected, it is very much not the case that Nietzsche wants to infer that we are therefore left merely to achieve as much subjectively measured happiness as possible, nor does he intend to open the door to a measureless, wildly tolerant pluralism. As he has set it out, Nietzsche's new philosophers (or post-philosophers) are still driven by what he calls a modern 'intellectual conscience': they want to know if what matters to them now ought to matter, whether there might be more important things to care about. Even though not driven by an otherworldly or transcendent or even 'objective' ideal beneath or above the appearances, they should still be able to 'overcome themselves' and in this way, to escape 'wretched contentment.' That is, they cannot orient themselves from the question, 'What matters in itself ?' as if a reality beneath the appearances, but even without reliance on such a reality, a possible self-dissatisfaction and striving must still be possible if an affirmable, especially what Friedrich Nietzsche, Twilight of the Idols ,in Twilight of the Idols and The Anti-Christ ,transl. R. J. Hollingdale (Harmondsworth: Penguin Books, ), p. . GS, , p. . See also the remark in Daybreak , about how the drive to knowledge"}
{"text": "has become too strong for us to be able to want happiness without knowledge or [to be able to want the happiness] of a strong, firmly rooted delusion; even to imagine such a state of things is painful to us! Restless discovering and divining has such an attraction for us, and has grown as indispensable to us as is to the lover his unrequited love, which he would at no price relinquish for a state of indifference - perhaps, indeed, we too are unrequited lovers. (Friedrich Nietzsche, Daybreak: Thoughts on the Prejudices of Morality , trans. R. J. Hollingdale and ed. Maudemarie Clark and Brian Leiter (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), , p. ) xvii Introduction Nietzsche sometimes calls a 'noble' life, is still to be possible. And he clearly believes that the major element of this possibility is his own effect onhislisteners. A great deal depends onhim (just as in the 'tragic age of the Greeks,'Socrateswasabletocreate,tolegislateanewformoflife).Inwhat way, goes the implied question or experiment, can a human being now tied to the 'earth' still aspire to be ultimately 'over-man,' Ubermensch ? How could one come to want such an earthly self-overcoming in these post-death-of-God conditions? Whence the right sort of contempt for one's present state, and aspiration for some future goal? Whatever the answer to such questions, Nietzsche clearly thinks that the character of Zarathustra's literary rhetoric must be understood in terms of this goal. Parallel to the paradox of a book for all and none, this problem suggests the paradox of how Zarathustra by 'going under ' and by destroying hopes fora'hinterworld' in the names of 'earth' and 'life' can prepare the way foranew form of 'going over ,' can prepare the transition between human beings as they now are and an 'overman.' One final version of essentially the same paradox: how can Zarathustra inspire and shame without being imitated, without creating disciples?"}
{"text": "For example, in the Preface to Beyond Good and Evil , Nietzsche notes that our long struggle with and often opposition to and dissatisfaction with our own moral tradition, European Christianity, has created a 'magnificent tension ( Spannung ) of the spirit in Europe, the likes of which the earth has never known: with such a tension in our bow we can now shoot at the furthest goals.' But, he goes on, the 'democratic Enlightenment' also sought to 'unbend' such a bow, to 'make sure that spirit does not experience itself so readily as 'need.'' This latter formulation coincides with a wonderfully lapidary expression in The Gay Science . In discussing 'the millions of Europeans who cannot endure their boredom and themselves,' he notes that they would even welcome 'a craving to suffer' and so 'to find in their suffering a probable reason for action, for In EH, what distinguishes Zarathustra is said to be his capacity for contradictions like this (EH, , pp. - ). See also section , 'On Great Longing,' references to 'loving contempt' (p. ) and to the intertwining of love and hate for life in 'The Other Dance Song' (p. ). This is also the problem of 'exemplarity' in Nietzsche's Schopenhauer as Educator essay. There is an illuminating essay on this issue, 'Nietzsche's Perfectionism: A Reading of Schopenhauer as Educator ,' of great relevance to TSZ, by James Conant in Nietzsche's Postmoralism: Essays on Nietzsche's Prelude to Philosophy , ed. R. Schacht (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), pp. - . Friedrich Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil , transl. Judith Norman, ed. Rolf-Peter Horstmann and Judith Norman (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), preface, p. . xviii Introduction deeds.' In sum: 'neediness is needed!' ('Not ist notig') In TSZ, the point is formulated in a similar way: Beware! The time approaches when human beings no longer launch the arrow of their longing beyond the human, and the string of their bow will have forgotten how to whir!"}
{"text": "Beware! The time approaches when human beings will no longer give birth to a dancing star. Beware! The time of the most contemptible human is coming, the one who can no longer have contempt for himself. [p. ] In these terms Nietzsche is trying to create something like a living model for a new, heroic form of affirmation of life (something like the way Montaigne simply offered himself to his readers), and by means of this model to re-introduce this 'tension' of spirit so necessary for self-overcoming. This picture of a living, complex Zarathustra and his unsettledness, his inability to rest content either in isolation or in society, his uncertainty about a form of address, his apostrophes to various dimensions of himself, his illness and recovery, are all supposed to provide us with both an archetypal picture of the great dilemma of modernity itself (the problem of affirmation, a new striving to be 'higher'), but also to inspire the kind of thoughtfulness and risk taking Zarathustra embodies. In his more grandiose moments Nietzsche no doubt thought of Zarathustra's struggles and explorations as reaching for us the same fundamental level as Homer's Odysseus, as Moses, as Virgil's Aeneas, as Christ. TSZ is somehow to be addressed to the source of whatever longing, striving, desire gives life a direction, inspires sacrifice and dedication. And it will be a very difficult task. There is a clear account of the basic issue in Ecce Homo : The psychological problem apparent in the Zarathustra type is how someone who to an unprecedented degree says no and does no to everything everyone has said yes to so far, - how somebody like this can nevertheless be the opposite of a no-saying spirit. GS, . See also 'On Unwilling Bliss' in the third part, where Zarathustra speaks of the 'desire for love' (p. xxx). For more on Nietzsche's relation to Montaigne and the French psychological tradition, see my Nietzsche moraliste fran cais. La conception nietzsch eenne d'une psychologie philosophique ,forthcoming, , Odile Jacob. Emerson is also clearly a model as well. See Conant, Nietzsche's Postmoralism . EH, , pp. - . xix"}
{"text": "And this way of putting the point makes it clear that Nietzsche also imagines that the experiment in so addressing each other might easily and contingently fail and fail catastrophically; it may just be the case that a sustainable attachment to life and to each other requires the kind of more standard, prosaic 'illusion' (a lie) that we have also rendered impossible. The possibility of such a failure is also an issue that worries Zarathustra a great deal, as we shall see."}
{"text": "The problem, then, that Zarathustra must address, the problem of 'nihilism,' is a kind of collective failure of desire, bows that have lost their tension, the absence of 'need' or of any fruitful self-contempt, the presence of wretched contentment, 'settling' for too little. And these discussions of desire and meaning throw into a different light how he means to address such a failure. As we have seen, even texts other than TSZ are overwhelmingly literary, rhetorically complex, elliptical, and always a matter of adopting personae and 'masks,' often the mask of a historian or scientist. He appears to believe that this is the only effective way to reach the level of such concern - to address an audience suffering from failed desire (without knowing it). Nietzsche clearly thinks we cannot understand such a possibility, much less be both shamed and inspired by it, except by a literary and so 'living' treatment of such an existential possibility. And Nietzsche clearly thinks he has such a chance, in the current historical context of crisis, collapse, boredom, and confusion, a chance of shaming and cajoling us away from commitments that will condemn us to a 'last man' or 'pale atheist' sort of existence, and of inspiring a new desire, a new 'tension' of the spirit. Hence the importance of these endless pictures and images: truth as a woman, science as gay, troubadours, tomb robbers, seduction, romance, prophets, animals, tightrope walkers, dwarves, beehives, crazy men, sleep, dreams, breeding, blonde beasts, twilight of the gods, and on and on. (It makes all the difference in the world if, having appreciated this point, we then appreciate that such notions as 'the will to power' and 'the eternal return of the same' belong on this list , are not independent 'philosophical' explanations of the meaning of the list. It is not an accident that Nietzsche often introduces these notions with the same hypothetical indirectness that he uses for the other images.) For an extensive discussion of the issue of masks in TSZ see Stanley Rosen, The Mask of Enlightenment: Nietzsche's Zarathustra (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). xx Introduction"}
{"text": "However, as in many dramatic and literary presentations of philosophy (such as Platonic dialogues, Proust's novel, Beckett's plays, and so forth) there are not only things said, but things done, and said and done by characters located somewhere and at a time, usually within a narrative time that is constantly changing contexts, conditions of appropriateness, aspects of relevance, and the like. On the face of it this means that one ought to be aware of who says what to whom when, and what is shown rather than said by what they do and what happens to them. In this case, Zarathustra had left the human world when he was thirty and stayed ten years in the mountains. We are not told why, although it is implied that he had psychologically 'burned up'; he carried his own 'ashes' up to the mountain. In the section 'The Hinterworldly' he also tells us that he managed to free himself (he does not tell us how) from the view that the finite human world was an imperfect copy of something better, 'the work of a suffering and tortured god,' that such views were a kind of disease he had recovered from, and that he now speaks of 'the meaning of the earth' (p. ). But we are not told exactly when this event occurred, before or after his voluntary exile, and the speech can be misleading unless, as just discussed above, it is read together with a number of others about selfovercoming. That is, it turns out not at all to be easy ,having abandoned a transcendent source of ideals, to live in a way true to this meaning of the earth or to understand in what sense this is a 'self-overcoming' way. The latter is not a mere 'liberationist' project, but one that in some ways is even more difficult than traditional self-denying virtue."}
{"text": "We also have no clear sense of what Zarathustra did all day, every day for ten years; he seemed mostly to think, contemplate, and talk to animals, especially his favorites, his snake and eagle (already an indication of a link between the low and the high in all things human). But we do know that something happened to him one day, his 'heart transformed,' and he resolved to re-enter the human world. We might assume, given Nietzsche's own diagnosis of the age, that this change was brought about by a sense of some coming crisis among humans. That is, Nietzsche is well known for calling this crisis 'nihilism,' and eventually many of Zarathustra's speeches express this urgency about our becoming the 'last human beings,' humans who can no longer 'overcome themselves.' But initially Zarathustra's return is promoted by motives that are explicit and xxi Introduction somewhat harder to understand. He had become 'weary' of the wisdom gained while in isolation and needs to distribute it, much as the sun gratuitously 'overflows' with warmth and light for humans; he would be in some way fatigued or frustrated by not being able to share this overflow. In a brief exchange with a hermit on the way down, we learn two further things about Zarathustra's motives. His generosity is prompted by a love of human beings , and those who remain in hermit-like isolation can do so only because they have not heard that 'God is dead.'"}
{"text": "Thesereferences to love, gift-giving, and Zarathustra's potential weariness are quite important since they amount to his further figurative answers to questions about the intended function and purpose of TSZ; it is a gift of love and meant to inspire some erotic longing as well. (This assumes that Zarathustra's fate in some way allegorizes what Nietzsche expects the fate of TSZ to be and, while this seems credible, Nietzsche also ironicizes Zarathustra enough to give one pause about such an allegory.) The images suggest that the lassitude, smug self-satisfaction, and complacency that Zarathustra finds around him in the market place and later in the city define the problem he faces in the unusual way suggested above. It again suggests that what in other contexts he could call the problem of nihilism is not so much the result of some discovery, a new piece of knowledge (that God is dead, or that values are ungrounded, contingent psychological projections), nor merely a fearful failure of will, a failing that requires the rhetoric of courage, a call to a new kind of strength. As noted, the problem Zarathustra confronts seems to be a failure of desire; nobody wants what he is offering, and they seem to want very little other than a rather bovine version of happiness. It is that sort of failure that proves particularly difficult to address, and that cannot be corrected by thinking up a 'better argument' against such a failure. The events that are narrated are also clearly tied to the question of what it means for Zarathustra to have a teaching, to try to impart it to an audience suffering in this unusual way, suffering from complacency or dead desire. Only at the very beginning, in the Prologue, does he try to 'lecture publicly,' one might say, and this is a pretty unambiguous failure. He is jeered at and mocked and he leaves, saying 'I am not the mouth for these ears' (p. ). The meaning of his attempt, however, seems to be acted out in an unusual drama about a tightrope walker who mistakenly thinks he is being called to start his act, does so, and then is frightened into a fall by a 'jester' who had attempted to leap over the tightrope walker. It xxii"}
{"text": "is not uncommon in TSZ that Zarathustra later returns to some of these early images and offers an interpretation. In Part ,inthe section called 'On Old and New Tablets,' Zarathustra remarks, This is what my great love of the farthest demands: do not spare your neighbor ! Human being is something that must be overcome. There are manifold ways and means of overcoming: you see to it! But only a jester thinks: 'human being can also be leaped over .' (p. ) This is only one of many manifestations of the importance of understanding Zarathustra's 'love' and his intimations of the great difficulty involved in his new doctrine of self-overcoming. Here it is something that must be accomplished by each (' you see to it!') and even more strikingly, the reminder here of the Prologue appears to indicate that Zarathustra himself had portrayed his own teaching in a comically inadequate way, preaching to the multitudes as if people could simply begin to overcome themselves by some revolutionary act of will, as if the overman were a new species to be arrived at by 'overleaping' the current one. We come closer here to the parodic elements of the text; in this case a kind of self-parody."}
{"text": "The other plot events in the book also continue to suggest a great unsettledness in Zarathustra's conception and execution of his project, rather than a confident manifesto by Nietzsche through the persona of Zarathustra. He had shifted from market place preaching to conversations with disciples in Part , and at the end of that Part he decides to forgo even that and to go back to his cave alone, and warns his disciples to 'guard' themselves against him, and even 'to be ashamed of him' (p. ). At the beginning of Part he begins to descend again, and again we hear that he is overfull and weary with his gifts and with love (the image of love has changed into something more dramatic: 'And may my torrent of love plunge into impasses!'), but now we hear something new, something absent from his first descent: he is also concerned and impatient. 'My enemies have become powerful and have distorted the image of my teaching.' He will seek out his friends and disciples again (as well as his enemies this time, he notes) but he seems to have realized that part of the problem with the dissemination of his teachings and warnings xxiii Introduction lies in him, and not just the audience. He admits that his wisdom is a 'wild' wisdom that frightens, and that he might scare everyone off, even his friends. 'If only my lioness-wisdom could learn to roar tenderly!' he laments, a lesson he clearly thinks he has not yet learned."}
{"text": "The crucial dramatic event in Part is what occurs near the end. Until then many of Zarathustra's themes had been similar to, or extensions of, what he had already said. Again he seeks to understand the possibility of aform of self-dissatisfaction and even self-contempt that is not based on some sense of absence or incompleteness, a natural gap or imperfection that needs to be filled or completed, and so a new goal that can be linked with a new kind of desire to 'overcome.' He discusses that issue here in terms of 'revenge,' especially against time, and he begins to worry that, with no redemptive revolutionary hope in human life, no ultimate justice in the after-life, and no realm of objective 'goods in themselves' or any natural right, human beings will come to see a finite, temporally mutable, contingent life as a kind of burden, or curse, or purposeless play, and they will exact revenge for having been arbitrarily thrown into this condition. What he means to say in the important section 'On the Tarantulas' is something he had not made clear before, least of all to himself. Indeed, he had helped create the illusion he wants to dispel. He now denies that he, Zarathustra, is a historical or revolutionary figure who will somehow save all of us from this fate, and he denies that the overman is a historical goal (in the way a prophet would foretell the coming of the redeemer) but a personal and quite elusive, very difficult new kind of ideal for each individual. In this sense TSZ can be a book for all, for anyone who is responsive to the call to self-overcoming, but for none, in the sense that it cannot offer a comprehensive reason (for anyone) to overcome themselves and cannot offer specific prescriptions. (It is striking that, although Zarathustra opens his speeches with the call for an overman, that aspect of his message virtually drops out after Part .) Indeed Zarathustra's role as such an early prophet is again part of what makes his early manifestation comic, a parodia. He is clearly pulling back from such a role: But so that I do not whirl, my friends, bind me fast to the pillar here! I would rather be a stylite than a whirlwind of revenge!"}
{"text": "For more detail on the relation between the first two parts and the last two, see Pippin, 'Irony and Affirmation.' xxiv"}
{"text": "Indeed, Zarathustra is no tornado or whirlwind; and if he is a dancer, nevermore a tarantella dancer! (p. ) Even so, this dance of some escape from revenge is hardly an automatic affirmation of existence as such. Throughout Part , there are constant reminders of how hard this new sort of self-overcoming will be. The 'Famous Wise Men' did not know the first thing about what 'spirit' truly was: Spirit is life that itself cuts into life; by its own agony it increases its own knowledge - did you know that? And the happiness of spirit is this: to be anointed and consecrated by tears to serve as a sacrificial animal - did you know that? (p. ) Other dimensions of this 'agony,' and the failed hopes of the beginning of his project start appearing. He says that 'My happiness in bestowing died in bestowing, my virtue wearied of itself in its superabundance' (p. ). Paradoxical (to say the least) formulations arise. 'At bottom I love only life - and verily, most when I hate it!'"}
{"text": "But he seems also to be gaining some clarity about his earlier aspirations and about the nature of the theme that plays the most important role in TSZ, 'self-overcoming.' In a passage with that name, he comments on the doctrine most associated with Nietzsche, 'the will to power.' But again everything is expressed figuratively. He says that all prior values had been placed in a 'skiff' as a result of the 'dominating will' of the inventors of such values and he suggests that this 'river of becoming' has carried those values to a disturbingly unexpected fate. He counsels these 'wisest ones' not to think of this historical and largely uncontrollable fateasdangerous and the end of good and evil; rather the river itself (not a psychological will for power on the part of the creators) is the will to power, the 'unexhausted begetting will of life,' the current of radical historical change 'upon' which or in terms of which obeying and esteeming and committing must always go on. And he notes that he has learned three things about this process. ( ) Life itself (that is the possibility of leading a life) always requires 'obedience,' that is, the possibility of commitment to a norm or goal and the capacity to sustain such commitment. xxv Introduction"}
{"text": "( ) 'The one who cannot obey himself is commanded.' (If we do not find a way of leading our life, it will be led for us one way or another.) And ( ) 'Commanding is harder than obeying.' He then adds what is in effect afourth point to these, that the attempt to exercise such command is 'an experiment and a risk'; indeed a risk of life. He tells us that with these questions he is at the very 'heart of life and into the roots of its heart' (p. ). There, in this heartland, he again confronts the problem he had discussed earlier in many different ways, the wrong sort of self-contempt, the absence of any arrows shot beyond man, no giving birth to stars, the bovine complacency of the last human beings. He asks again, that is, the question: without possible reliance on a faith in divine purposes or natural perfections (that river has 'carried' us beyond such options), how should we now understand the possibility of the 'intellectual conscience' without which we would be beneath contempt? That is, whence the experience that we are not as we could be, that what matters to me now might not be what should matter most, that our present state, for each individual, must be 'overcome?' Why? Since the summary 'secret' that Zarathustra has learned from life is expressed this way - 'And this secret life itself spoke to me: 'Behold,' it said, 'I am that which must always overcome itself ,'' - it appears that what is at stake for him is the possibility of coming to exercise power over oneself ; that is, to lead one's life both by sustaining commitments (right 'to the death,' he often implies, suggesting that being able to lead a life in such a whole-hearted way is much more to be esteemed than merely staying alive) and by finding some way to endure the altering historical conditions of valuing, esteeming, such that one can 'overcome' the self so committed to prior values and find a way to 'will' again. One could say that what makes the 'overman' ( Ubermensch ) genuinely selftranscendingisthathecanover-comehimself,accomplishwhennecessary this self-transcending ( Selbst -Uberwindung .) He thereby has gained power 'over' himself and so"}
{"text": "realized his will to power: That I must be struggle and becoming and purpose and the contradiction of purposes - alas, whoever guesses my will guesses also on what crooked paths it must walk! Whatever I may create and however I may love it - soon I must oppose it and my love, thus my will wants it. (pp. - ) Likewise,Zarathustrastressesthatgoodandevil,anylife-orientingnormative distinctions, are hardly everlasting; rather they 'must overcome xxvi"}
{"text": "themselves out of themselves again and again.' That is, self-overcoming is not transcending a present state for the sake of an ideal, stable higher state (as in a naturally perfected state or any other kind of fixed telos). All aspirations to be more, better than one is, if they are possible at all in present conditions, are provisional, will always give rise to further transformed aspirations. Zarathustra's questions about this do not so much concern traditional philosophical questions about such a form of life but a much more difficult one to address: could we bear , endure such a fate? Clearly Zarathustra's own starts and stops, and the effect these have on him, are meant to raise such an issue dramatically. (And it is not at all clear that this issue is in any way resolved, or that a resolution is even relevant.)"}
{"text": "Two other things are quite striking about these formulations. The first, as the autobiographical inflection of such passages makes clear, is that we have to see Zarathustra as embodying this struggle, and thus must note that this possibility - the heart of everything, the possibility of selfovercoming-seemstherebyalsotiedsomehowto his problemsofrhetoric, language, of audience, friends, his own loneliness, and occasional bitterness and pity. Some condition of success in self-overcoming is linked to achieving the right relation to others (and so, by implication, is inconsistent with a hermit-like, isolated life). The second emerges quickly from the first. We have to note that Zarathustra, as the embodiment of this struggle, whatever this relation to others turns out to be, is completely uninterested in gaining power over others , subjecting as much or as many as possible to his control or command. ('I lack the lion's voice for all commanding'(p. ).) Self -commanding(and,dialectically, self-obeying) are the great problems. (In fact he keeps insisting that the last thing he wants is the ability to command them. His chief problem is that whenever he hears them re-formulate what he thinks he has said or dreamt, he is either disappointed, or perhaps anxious that he does not understand his own 'doctrine'; they may be right, he may be wrong, and no intellectual conscience could sustain a commitment that was suspected of being delusory.) Even when he appears to discuss serving or mastering others, he treats it as in the service of self-mastery and so again possible self-overcoming. ('[A]nd even in the will of the serving I found the will to be master' (p. ).) There are of course other passages in Nietzsche which seem to encourage a violent upheaval, all so that the strong can rule over the weak and so forth. I have only space to say that if we use TSZ xxvii Introduction"}
{"text": "These are less formulations of a position than fragmentary and largely programmatic aspects of Zarathustra's self-diagnosis and the cure he at least aspires to. Many philosophical questions arise inevitably. What would be amiss, lost, wrong in a life not fully or not at all 'led' by a subject? How could this aspiration towards something believed to be higher or more worthy than what one is or has now be directed ,ifall the old language of external or objective forms of normative authority is now impossible? On what grounds can one say that a desire to cultivate a different sort of self, to overcome oneself, is really in the service of a 'higher' self? Higher in what sense? What could be said to be responsible for (relied on for) securing this obedience, for helping to ward off skepticism when it arises? Under what conditions can such commitments and projects be said to lose their grip on a subject, fail, or die? In general Zarathustra does not fully accept the burden of these questions as ones he must assume. For one thing he clearly does not believe that the inspiration for such an attempt at self-direction and something like 'becoming better at becoming who one is' can be provided by an argument or a revelation or a command. One would already have had to measure oneself and one's worth against 'arguments' or 'revelation' or 'authoritative commands' for such different calls to be effective and it is to that prior, deepest level of commitment that Zarathustra, however indirectly and figuratively, is directing his rhetoric. And given the great indeterminateness of his approach, he is clearly much more interested in the qualitative characteristics of such commitments than with their content. The quality he is most interested in turns out to be extremely complex: on the one hand, 'whole-heartedness' and an absorbed or passionate 'identification' with one's higher ideal; on the other hand, a paradoxical capacity to 'let go' of such commitments and pursue other ideals when the originals (somehow) cease to serve self-overcoming and self-transcendence, when they lead to complacency and contentment. However, to come to by far the most complicated issue introduced by Zarathustra's speeches, he clearly also thinks that such qualitative considerations - the chief topic of the book, the qualitative dimensions"}
{"text": "as a model for reading Nietzsche, and attend to issues like voice, persona, irony, and context, we will see a Nietzsche very different from the traditional one. For more on the political issues in Nietzsche, see my 'Deceit, Desire, and Democracy: Nietzsche on Modern Eros,' International Studies in Philosophy , : (March, ), pp. - . That is, better at becoming who one truly is, beyond or over one's present state. xxviii Introduction"}
{"text": "of a self-relation that will in the present circumstances make possible a yearning for a self-overcoming and escape from mere contentment - will also rule out various contents .Itisclear that he, and in this case Nietzsche as well, thinks that one cannot whole-heartedly and 'self-overcomingly' be a 'last human being' or any of its many manifestations (a petty tyrant, a pale atheist, a 'reactive' type, a modern ascetic). Such types embody forms of a 'negative' self-relation that are 'reactive' and self-denying in a way that makes true self-overcoming and self-affirmation impossible and so will not allow that form of identification with one's deeds that Zarathustra suggests should be like the way a 'mother' sees herself in her 'child.' ('I wish your self were in the deed like the mother is in the child; let that be your word on virtue' (p. ).) Yet it is also clear that one cannot simply will 'to have contempt for oneself as Zarathustra recommends.' The right relation between shame and yearning is as delicate and elusive as are Zarathustra's strange speeches and dreams and visions. And, as we have been seeing, he also clearly thinks (or he experiences in his own adventures) that only some kinds of relations to others are consistent with the possibility of such genuine self-direction. Merely commanding others, discipleship, indifference, or isolation are all ruled out. Since we also do not ever get from Nietzsche a discursive account of what distinguishes a genuine form of self-direction and self-overcoming from an illusory or self-deceived one (whatever such a distinction amounts to, it is not of the kind that could be helped, would be better realized, by such a theory), elements of how he understands that distinction emerge only indirectly and, together with a clearer understanding of self-overcoming and the social relations it requires, would all have to be reconstructed from a wide variety of contexts and passages. Moreover, to make everything even more complicated, Nietzsche also clearly believes that such a whole-hearted aspiration to self-overcoming is also consistent with a certain level of irony , some distance from one's ideals, the adoption of personae and masks, and even a kind of esotericism when addressing different audiences."}
{"text": "But while Zarathustra does not treat these issues as discursive problems, as if they were problems about skepticism or justification, he does suffer from them, suffer from the burden that the thought of such contingency imposes on any possibly worthy life. He becomes ill, apparently ill with xxix"}
{"text": "the human condition as such, even disgusted by it, and a great deal of the latter four speeches of Part and the majority of Part involve his possible recovery from such an illness, his 'convalescing.' There is in effect a kind of mini-narrative from the speech called 'The Soothsayer' in Part until the speech 'On Unwilling Bliss' in Part that is at the center of the work's drama, and the re-orientation effected there is played out throughout the rest of Part , especially in 'The Convalescent.' Dramatically, at the end of Part Zarathustra again resolves to return home, and in Part he is underway back there, and finally reaches his cave and his animals."}
{"text": "'The Soothsayer' begins with remarks about the famous doctrine mostly attributed to Nietzsche, but here expressed by a soothsayer and quoted by Zarathustra. (In Ecce Homo , the idea is called the 'basic idea' and 'fundamental thought' of the work.) This notion, that 'Everything is empty, everything is the same, everything was!' is promptly interpreted in a melancholic way, such that 'We have become too weary to die; now we continue to wake and we live on - in burial chambers' (p. ). It is this prophecy that 'went straight to his [Zarathustra's] heart and transformed him.' He does not eat or drink for three days, does not speak, and doesnotsleep. In typically figurative language he explains the source of his despair in a way that suggests a kind of self-critique. He had clearly earlier placed his hopes for mankind in a dramatic historical, epochal moment, the bridge from man to the overman, and he now realizes that it was a mistake to consider this a historical goal or broad civilizational ideal, that such a teleology is a fantasy, that rather 'all recurs eternally,' that the last human being cannot be overcome in some revolutionary moment. In the language of his strange dream he finds that he does not, after all, have the 'keys' to open the relevant historical gate (he thought he did, thought he need not only keep watch over, but could open up, what had gone dead), that it is a matter of chance or a sudden wind whether or not a historical change will occur within individuals, and if it does, it might be nothing but the release of what had been dead. His disciples promptly interpret the dream in exactly the opposite way, as if Zarathustra himself were 'the [liberating] wind.' Zarathustra merely shakes his head in disappointment and continues his wandering home. EH, , pp. and . xxx"}
{"text": "The details of Zarathustra's re-evaluation of what is required now of himandhisaddresseesinorder,ineffect, to 'take up the reins' of a life and live it better, to embody a commitment to constant self-transcendence, instead of merely suffering existence, involve scores of images and parables. Zarathustra will not now see himself as removing the deformity from 'cripples.' That is useless, he implies; they must do that for themselves. Or Zarathustra must learn to be silent often, to teach by not teaching, and this occasions the clearest expressions, even at this late date, of the ambiguities in Zarathustra's role and self-understanding: Is he a promiser? Or a fulfiller? A conqueror? Or an inheritor? An autumn? Or a plow? A physician? Or a convalescent? Is he a poet? Or a truthful man? A liberator? Or a tamer? A good man? Or an evil man? I walk among human beings as among fragments of the future; the future that I see. (p. ) Yetagain, the question of who Zarathustra is, what he stands for, what his purpose is, remains a puzzling question for Zarathustra himself . Zarathustra, in other words, cannot understand what it means to be a 'spokesman' for Zarathustra. We are obviously very far from being able to see him as a spokesman for Nietzsche. This is all also said to effect a kind of 'reconciliation' with circular, repetitive time. He will encourage a liberation in which what we took to be what merely happened to us in the past can be assumed as the burden of one's own doing, that one will heroically take on what merely 'was' as one's own and so transform it into 'thus I willed it.' (This might be likened to a Greek tragic hero who takes on more of a burden of what was done than can be strictly attributed to his deed, someone like Oedipus or Ajax. )Hedoes not need the 'lion's voice' of commanding: 'The stillest words are those that bring the storm. Thoughts that come on the feet of doves steer the world' (p. )."}
{"text": "Throughout Part , Zarathustra speaks mostly to himself; he learns that his greatest danger is 'love,' 'the danger of the loneliest one, love of everything if only it lives !' (p. ). He must struggle with a 'spirit of gravity,' his own reflective doubt that he will be 'dragged down' See Bernard Williams, Shame and Necessity (Berkeley: University of California Press, ). xxxi by the 'abysmal thought' of the Eternal Return. It is in this struggle that he realizes that the way in which the meaning of the absence of historical revolution or redemption is lived out or embodied in a life is not something that can be easily read off from the mere doctrine itself. There is no clear, unavoidable inference either to despair, indifference, or affirmation. The dwarf, the spirit of gravity, does that (reads despair as the implication) and 'makes it too easy on himself' (p. ). And Zarathustra again tries to 'dream' his way out of his sadness by dreaming himself as a young shepherd 'choking' on his own 'circular' doctrine, the Eternal Return, but one who succeeds in 'biting off the head of the snake' that had crawled into his throat, and so emerged 'a transformed, illuminated, laughing' being (p. ). Just how exactly the despair-inducing features of there being no temporal redemption and a ceaseless return of even the last men are transformed into an affirmative vision, and just how this is captured by 'biting the head off the snake' is not clear. When that very question comes up much more explicitly in 'The Convalescent' (Zarathustra fasts again for seven days and when he resumes speaking he mentions again the 'nausea' that the thought of the Eternal Return occasioned), the attempt by his animals to attribute the Eternal Return to Zarathustra as a 'teaching' is met first by his complaint that they are turning him and his struggle into a 'hurdy-gurdy song' and when they go on and interpret the doctrine as a kind of immortality teaching (that Zarathustra will return), Zarathustra ignores them, communes only with his soul. Also, given that aspects of Zarathustra's own despair return after this, the image of recovery might be as much wishful thinking, or at least the expression of a mere faint hope as it is a settled event."}
{"text": "This dialogue with his disciples also shows that one of the things that recurs repeatedly for Zarathustra are his own words; that he cannot prevent the 'literalization' of his parabolic speech. His disciples are not dense or merely mistaken; they are simply trying to understand what Zarathustra means. When repeated as a teaching or a doctrine, Zarathustra's parabolic speech becomes parodic, comic. But he has no option other than saying nothing (and he has found that he cannot live in such isolation) or preaching more directly, in which case his disciples would be xxxii Introduction (even more than they already are) following him, not themselves. The parodic return of his own words is thus the heart of his tragedy. After this expression of his putative, perhaps short-lived new selfunderstanding, he believes he can say such things as 'I gave it [chance] back to all things, I redeemed them from their servitude under purpose' (p. ). Having done so, a 'homecoming' back with his animals is now possible, he thinks, and he expresses the relation to others, here his animals, that he would have wanted 'down there,' but failed to achieve: 'We do not implore one another, we do not deplore one another, we walk openly with one another through open doors' (p. ). Thus, as we drift towards the end of the Part , which Nietzsche at one time clearly conceived as the end of the book, Zarathustra's despair at any change in the collective or individual lives of human beings seems at its darkest. However, as is so typical of the wandering eros of Zarathustra, within a few speeches he announces yet again 'I want to return to mankind once more' (p. )."}
{"text": "He does not, however, and at the beginning of the Part , Zarathustra is still alone, and he is old now. He re-encounters the soothsayer but one cannot see in their confrontation that anything decisive is settled. And, although Zarathustra begins to talk with and assemble a wide variety of what are called 'higher human beings' (kings, an old magician, the pope, the voluntary beggar, the shadow, the conscientious of spirit, the sad soothsayer, and the ass), his own 'teaching' about overcoming and the higher seems here yet again parodied rather than celebrated. As noted, Part reads more like a comic, concluding satyr play to a tragic trilogy than a real conclusion. It is especially self-parodic when all these so-called higher types end up worshipping a jackass, presumably because the ass can at least make a sound that articulates what all have been seeking, a mode of affirmation and commitment. The ass can say Hee-yaw, that is, ja, or Yes! So we end with the same problem. Zarathustra must report, 'But I still lack the proper human beings.' However, when a 'cloud of love' descends around him, and he hears a lion's roar (a 'sign' that takes us back to On this point I am grateful to conversations with David Wellbery. Compare, ' it is only in love , only when shaded by the illusions produced by love, that is to say in the unconditional faith in right and perfection, that man is creative.' Friedrich Nietzsche, 'On the Uses and Disadvantages of History for Life,' in Untimely Meditations ,trans. R. J. Hollingdale, ed. Daniel Breazeale (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), , p. . xxxiii Introduction"}
{"text": "the three metamorphoses of the first speech), he also believes that 'My children are near, my children,' and yet again he leaves his cave, 'glowing and strong, like a morning sun that emerges from dark mountains' (p. ). But by this point we are experiencing as readers our own eternal return, the cycle of hope and despair, descent and return, sociality and isolation, love and contempt, parable and parody, lower and higher, earth and heaven, snake and eagle, that we have been reading about throughout. The 'ending' in other words is meant to suggest a cyclical temporality, as if to pose for us the question Zarathustra continually has to ask himself. The question is oriented from the now familiar assumptions: no redemptive or revolutionary moment in human time, no re-assurance about or reliance on the naturally right or good; no revelations from God; and the eventual return of everything we have tried to overcome. Given such assumptions, the question is whether the self-overcoming Zarathustra encourages, the desire for some greater or better form of self-direction, assuming the full burden of leading a life, is practically possible, from the lived viewpoint of the agent."}
{"text": "In keeping with the unsystematic form of the clear models for TSZ biblical wisdom literature, the French moral psychologists of the sixteenth andseventeenth centuries (Montaigne, Pascal, La Rochefoucauld), Emerson, Goethe - it is of course appropriate that we be 'taught' nothing about this by Zarathustra, 'taught' if at all only by his ultimate silence about this new possibility and so its challenge to us, to make it 'our own.' No lessons can be drawn from it, no summary credo articulated, no justification for a position formulated, any more than any 'gift of love' like this, any image of a life worth living under these conditions, can be interrogated in this way. The work seems to function as the same kind of 'test' for the reader as the soothsayer's doctrine for Zarathustra. Either the temper and credibility of Zarathustra's constant return to the ultimately unredeemable human world will strike the chord Nietzsche hoped still existed, or it will not; either there are such 'children' as Zarathustra sees in his final vision, or they will seem like the illusions that so many of Zarathustra's hopes have proven to be from the beginning. Or to adopt the language of Zarathustra, and in this case at least, Nietzsche himself, perhaps such children do have the status of mere dreams, but they thereby also might satisfy what Nietzsche once described as the conditions of xxxiv"}
{"text": "contemporary self-overcoming: the ability to 'dream' without first having to 'sleep.' Robert B. Pippin GS, . A re-orientation of some sort that would permit the entertaining of some aspiration or ideal, some inspiring picture that would not (given our intellectual conscience) have to be treated as a distortion or fantasy or merely utopian (that we would not have to 'sleep,' shut off our conscience) in order to dream in this way, is at the heart of the Kafka fable cited in n. above. From what has become the ordinary viewpoint, parables are a waste of time (What is Nietzsche's proposal? His plan? How does he want us to live?), and the right understanding would be to live out the parable; but, paradoxically, not ' as a parable,' as if a self-conscious idealization. That would be 'correct,' from the viewpoint of reality, but a destruction of the parable's function; one would have 'lost.' xxxv"}
{"text": ", 1 = Born in Rocken, a small village in the Prussian province of Saxony, on October.. , 1 = Birth of his sister Elisabeth.. , 1 = Birth of his brother Joseph.. , 1 = His father, a Lutheran minister, dies at age thirty-six of 'softening of the brain.'. , 1 = Brother dies; family moves to Naumburg to live with father's mother and her sisters.. , 1 = Begins studies at Pforta, Germany's most famous school for education in the classics.. , 1 = Graduates from Pforta with a thesis in Latin on the Greek poet Theognis; enters the university of Bonn as a theology student. Transfers from Bonn, following the classical philologist Friedrich Ritschl to Leipzig where he registers as a philology student;. , 1 = reads Schopenhauer's The World as Will and Representation. Reads Friedrich Lange's History of Materialism. Meets Richard Wagner.. , 1 = . , 1 = On Ritschl's recommendation is appointed professor of classical. , 1 = doctorate (which is then conferred without a dissertation); begins frequent visits to the Wagner residence at Tribschen.. , 1 = Serves as a medical orderly in the Franco-Prussian war; contracts a serious illness and so serves only two months. Writes 'The Dionysiac World View.' The Birth of Tragedy ; its dedicatory. , 1 = Publishes his first book, preface to Richard Wagner claims for art the role of 'the highest xxxvi"}
{"text": ", 1 = task and truly metaphysical activity of his life'; devastating reviews follow. Publishes 'David Strauss, the Confessor and the Writer,' the first of his Untimely Meditations ; begins taking books on natural science out of the Basle library, whereas he had previously confined himself largely to books on philological matters. Writes 'On Truth and Lying in a Non-Moral Sense.'. , 1 = Publishes two more Meditations , 'The Uses and Disadvantages of History for Life' and 'Schopenhauer as Educator.'. , 1 = Publishes the fourth Meditation , 'Richard Wagner in Bayreuth,' which already bears subtle signs of his movement away from Wagner.. , 1 = Publishes Human, All Too Human (dedicated to the memory of Voltaire); it praises science over art as the high culture and thus marks a decisive turn away from Wagner.. , 1 = Terrible health problems force him to resign his chair at Basle (with a small pension); publishes 'Assorted Opinions and Maxims,' the first part of vol. of Human, All Too Human ; begins living alone in Swiss and Italian boarding-houses.. , 1 = Publishes 'The Wanderer and His Shadow,' which becomes the second part of vol. of Human, All Too Human. Publishes Daybreak .. , 1 = Publishes Idylls of Messina (eight poems) in a monthly magazine; publishes The Gay Science (first edition); friendship with Paul R'ee and Lou Andreas-Salom'e ends badly, leaving Nietzsche devastated.. , 1 = Publishes the first two parts of Thus Spoke Zarathustra; learns of Wagner's death just after mailing Part to the publisher. of Thus Spoke Zarathustra .. , 1 = Publishes Part. , 1 = Publishes Part of Zarathustra for private circulation only.. , 1 = Publishes Beyond Good and Evil ; writes prefaces for new releases of: The Birth of Tragedy, Human, All Too Human , vols. and , and Daybreak.. , 1 = Publishes expanded edition of The Gay Science with a new preface, a fifth book, and an appendix of poems; publishes Hymn to Life ,amusical work for chorus and orchestra; publishes On the Genealogy of Morality. xxxvii"}
{"text": ", Chronology = Publishes The Case of Wagner , composes a collection of poems, Dionysian Dithyrambs , and four short books: Twilight of Idols , The Antichrist , Ecce Homo , and Nietzsche contra Wagner . Collapses physically and mentally in Turin on . , Chronology = January; writes a few lucid notes but never recovers sanity; is briefly institutionalized; spends remainder of his life as an invalid, living with his mother and then his sister, who also gains control of his literary estate.. , Chronology = Dies in Weimar on August. xxxviii"}
{"text": "Thus Spoke Zarathustra has attracted the most attention of all of Nietzsche's works, it is therefore his most popular in terms of printings and sales, and his most critically acclaimed. Attempts to do justice to the richness and strangeness of this work by providing detailed commentary on each chapter began early, in the nineteenth century, with Gustav Naumann's Zarathustra-Commentar ( vols., Leipzig: H. Haessel, - ). Naumann's commentary addresses each chapter of Zarathustra in a reliable and nuanced manner, making it useful even today (at least to readers of German). Naumann was also highly critical of the machinations of Nietzsche's sister, Elisabeth Forster-Nietzsche, as she enlisted sympathetic editors to manufacture her own image of Nietzsche and her own edition of his works. Historically Naumann's commentary is valuable because it is part of the phenomenal reception of Nietzsche's ideas at the turn of the century, and because it is early enough to be untainted by the negative fall-out of the two world wars and their lingering damage to Nietzsche's reputation. The next comprehensive attempt to explain Zarathustra began in the s and took the form of a six-year seminar given by C. G. Jung at the university of Zurich. For decades the unpublished notes of this seminar circulated in photocopy among the Nietzsche underground at various universities until finally they were edited and published by James L. Jarrett as Nietzsche's 'Zarathustra': Notes of the Seminar Given in - by C. G. Jung ( vols., Princeton University Press, ). This commentary by chapter is unparalleled in revealing the complex creative process behind Zarathustra , and though preachy at times, it subjects both Nietzsche and his creation to an anthropological approach that only Jung could present. Jarrett's editing is quite skillful, xxxix while the seminar format of the 'notes' makes this commentary uniquely discursive."}
{"text": "Morerecent commentaries devoted exclusively to Zarathustra and limited to a single volume are extremely useful as well. Laurence Lampert's Nietzsche's Teaching: An Interpretation of 'Thus Spoke Zarathustra' (Yale University Press, ), establishes the need for a new teaching, the nature of the teaching, and the foundational role it plays in the history of philosophy. Lampert's Nietzsche and Modern Times: A Study of Bacon, Descartes, and Nietzsche (Yale University Press, ), much broader in scope, goes further in the direction of specifying the ecological, earth-affirming properties of Nietzsche's teaching via Zarathustra. Kathleen Higgin's Nietzsche's 'Zarathustra' (Temple University Press, ), which she prefers to designate not as commentary but 'analysis' instead, treats Zarathustra in the context of the teachers Socrates and Christ. She strives to rehabilitate the reputation of Zarathustra as a whole, and particularly Part . Stanley Rosen, in The Mask of Enlightenment: Nietzsche's 'Zarathustra' (Cambridge University Press, ), comments on most of the chapters while bringing all of Nietzsche's writings to bear on this difficult and, for him, sometimes disturbing book. Rosen is mindful of the contradiction inherent in Nietzsche's attempt to speak simultaneously to the few (esoterically) and to everyone (exoterically). Robert Gooding-Williams, in Zarathustra's Dionysian Modernism (Stanford University Press, ), has delivered the latest of the Zarathustra -commentaries, and perhaps the most powerful in terms of maintaining hermeneutic continuity. The concept of a 'Dionysian modernism' is effective in unifying the study and highlighting Zarathustra's mission as a revival of the earth's passions. Joachim Kohler's Zarathustra's Secret: The Interior Life of Friedrich Nietzsche (Yale University Press, ,translation of Zarathustras Geheimnis , ), purports to be a biography exposing the gamut of Nietzsche's philosophizing as secret code for the glorification of homosexuality. Kohler reduces all of Nietzsche's motivations and teachings to his alleged homoeroticism, sometimes with breathtaking obtuseness, and he uses it to undermine Nietzsche's philosophical validity."}
{"text": "Articles that address significant aspects of Zarathustra include Gary Shapiro, 'The Rhetoric of Nietzsche's Zarathustra ,' in Philosophical Style: An Anthology about the Writing and Reading of Philosophy , ed. Berel Lang (Chicago: Nelson-Hall, ), pp. - ;Robert B. Pippin, 'Irony and Affirmation in Nietzsche's Thus Spoke Zarathustra ,' in xl Further reading Nietzsche's New Seas: Explorations in Philosophy, Aesthetics, and Politics , ed. Michael Allen Gillespie and Tracy B. Strong (Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press, ), pp. - ; Daniel W. Conway, 'Solving the Problem of Socrates: Nietzsche's Zarathustra as Political Irony,' Political Theory : ( ), pp. - ; Keith Ansell-Pearson, 'Who is the Ubermensch ? Time, Truth, and Woman in Nietzsche,' Journal of the History of Ideas : ( ), pp. - ;Graham Parkes, 'Staying Loyal to the Earth: Nietzsche as an Ecological Thinker' in Nietzsche's Futures , ed. John Lippit (St. Martin's Press, ), pp. - ."}
{"text": "There are also several books that deal substantially with Zarathustra while not attempting to provide running commentary on chapter and verse. The first of these is Karl Lowith's Nietzsche's Philosophy of the Eternal Recurrence of the Same (University of California Press, ; translation of Nietzsches Philosophie der ewigen Wiederkehr des Gleichen , ), still the most thorough and compelling philosophical treatment to date of the unifying doctrine of Zarathustra . Philip Grundlehner's The Poetry of Friedrich Nietzsche (Oxford University Press, ), sheds light not only on the dithyrambs interspersed throughout Part , but on Nietzsche's entire lyrical poetic output, of which Zarathustra is in many ways symptomatic. The debate concerning poetry vs. philosophy is given careful treatment in Grundlehner's study. Rudolf Kreis's Nietzsche, Wagner and die Juden (Konigshausen und Neumann, ) is underutilized in the English-speaking world. Kreis's great service lies not in his thesis that Nietzsche opposed Wagner by writing Zarathustra as an 'antiParsifal ,' but in his more broadly juxtaposing the earth-affirming ethos of the ancient Jews with the earth-denying ethos of modern Christian anti-Semitism. Kreis's book traces the fortunes of the earth as ecosystem, casting the encounter between Nietzsche and Wagner as a defining moment. John Richardson's Nietzsche's System (Oxford University Press, )represents a highly readable and refined analysis of both the superhuman and the will to power. Richardson makes strides toward an ecumenical Nietzsche when he consistently renders German Mensch as 'human being,' but he fails to follow through by rendering Ubermensch as superhuman. For the purpose of providing an elegant and readable translation 'overman' may well be the preferred expression, but for purposes of scholarship, the English-speaking world should have advanced far enough beyond Shaw's and Marvel's comic book 'superman' to speak in terms of the superhuman. Gregory Moore's Nietzsche, Biology and xli"}
{"text": "Metaphor (Cambridge University Press, ), though disappointing in its failure to recognize the Dionysian as a source of Nietzsche's biologically inclined rhetoric, is nonetheless the best study to date on how Nietzsche responded to the scientific literature of his day in constructing his own views on evolution and degeneration. Adrian Del Caro's Grounding the Nietzsche Rhetoric of Earth (Walter de Gruyter, ) unpacks Zarathustra's proclamation that 'the superhuman is the meaning of the earth,' and delivers a multifaceted treatment of the ecological Nietzsche. xlii"}
{"text": "The text used for this translation is printed in the now standard edition of Nietzsche's works edited by Giorgio Colli and Mazzino Montinari (Berlin: de Gruyter, - ). Their edition and their Kritische Studienausgabe in fifteen volumes (Berlin: de Gruyter, )have been used in the preparation of the footnotes to this edition. The spacing and versification of the original are preserved in this edition. xliii Thus Spoke Zarathustra A Book for All and None First Part"}
{"text": "When Zarathustra was thirty years old he left his home and the lake of his home and went into the mountains. Here he enjoyed his spirit and his solitude and for ten years he did not tire of it. But at last his heart transformed, - one morning he arose with the dawn, stepped before the sun and spoke thus to it: 'You great star! What would your happiness be if you had not those for whom you shine? For ten years you have come up here to my cave: you would have tired of your light and of this route without me, my eagle and my snake. But we awaited you every morning, took your overflow from you and blessed you for it. Behold! I am weary of my wisdom, like a bee that has gathered too much honey. I need hands that reach out. I want to bestow and distribute until the wise among human beings have once again enjoyed their folly, and the poor once again their wealth. For this I must descend into the depths, as you do evenings when you go behind the sea and bring light even to the underworld, you super-rich star! Like you, I must go down as the human beings say, to whom I want to descend. So bless me now, you quiet eye that can look upon even an all too great happiness without envy! Bless the cup that wants to flow over, such that water flows golden from it and everywhere carries the reflection of your bliss! Behold! This cup wants to become empty again, and Zarathustra wants to become human again.'"}
{"text": "German uses untergehen , literally 'to go under' for the expression the sun 'goes down.' Nietzsche throughout Zarathustra uses wordplay to signify that Zarathustra's 'going under' is a 'going over' or transition, ubergehen , from human to superhuman, from man to overman. After Zarathustra draws his first analogy between himself and the sun, I use 'going under' for untergehen and its noun form Untergang .Insetting or going down the sun marks a transition. Zarathustra meanwhile has been higher than human in both figurative and literal terms, and so his 'going under' has the effect of him transitioning to human again. However, on the ecumenical level, when human beings transition or go under, and when they 'overcome' the human, they should achieve the superhuman (overman). Thus Spoke Zarathustra Zarathustra climbed down alone from the mountains and encountered no one. But when he came to the woods suddenly an old man stood before him, who had left his saintly hut in search of roots in the woods. And thus spoke the old man to Zarathustra: 'This wanderer is no stranger to me: many years ago he passed by here. Zarathustra he was called; but he is transformed. Back then you carried your ashes to the mountain: would you now carry your fire into the valley? Do you not fear the arsonist's punishment? Yes, I recognize Zarathustra. His eyes are pure, and no disgust is visible around his mouth. Does he not stride like a dancer? Zarathustra is transformed, Zarathustra has become a child, an awakened one is Zarathustra. What do you want now among the sleepers? Youlived in your solitude as if in the sea, and the sea carried you. Alas, you want to climb ashore? Alas, you want to drag your own body again?' Zarathustra answered: 'I love mankind.' 'Why,' asked the saint, 'did I go into the woods and the wilderness in the first place? Was it not because I loved mankind all too much? Now I love God: human beings I do not love. Human beings are too imperfect a thing for me. Love for human beings would kill me.'"}
{"text": "Zarathustra replied. 'Why did I speak of love? I bring mankind a gift.' 'Give them nothing,' said the saint. 'Rather take something off them and help them to carry it - that will do them the most good, if only it does you good! And if you want to give to them, then give nothing more than alms, and make them beg for that too!' 'No,' answered Zarathustra. 'I do not give alms. For that I am not poor enough.' The saint laughed at Zarathustra and spoke thus: 'Then see to it that they accept your treasures! They are mistrustful of hermits and do not believe that we come to give gifts. 'Ich liebe die Menschen' means literally 'I love human beings.' Earlier translators ignored the ecological framework in which Nietzsche wrote Zarathustra by using expressions like 'man.' The prologue establishes a prevailing semantic field, a framework in which human beings, animals, nature and earth interact or should interact as never before."}
{"text": "To them our footsteps sound too lonely in the lanes. And if at night lying in their beds they hear a man walking outside, long before the sun rises, they probably ask themselves: where is the thief going? Do not go to mankind and stay in the woods! Go even to the animals instead! Why do you not want to be like me - a bear among bears, a bird among birds?' 'And what does the saint do in the woods?' asked Zarathustra. The saint answered: 'I make songs and sing them, and when I make songs I laugh, weep and growl: thus I praise God. With singing, weeping, laughing and growling I praise the god who is my god. But tell me, what do you bring us as a gift?' When Zarathustra had heard these words he took his leave of the saint andspoke: 'What would I have to give you! But let me leave quickly before I take something from you!' - And so they parted, the oldster and the man, laughing like two boys laugh. But when Zarathustra was alone he spoke thus to his heart: 'Could it be possible! This old saint in his woods has not yet heard the news that God is dead !' - When Zarathustra came into the nearest town lying on the edge of the forest, he found many people gathered in the market place, for it had been promised that a tightrope walker would perform. And Zarathustra spoke thus to the people: ' I teach you the overman . Human being is something that must be overcome. What have you done to overcome him? All creatures so far created something beyond themselves; and you want to be the ebb of this great flood and would even rather go back to animals than overcome humans?"}
{"text": "'Ich lehre euch den Ubermenschen.' Just as Mensch means human, human being, Ubermensch means superhuman, which I render throughout as overman, though I use human being, mankind, people, and humanity to avoid the gendered and outmoded use of 'man.' Two things are achieved by using this combination. First, using 'human being' and other species-indicating expressions makes it clear that Nietzsche is concerned ecumenically with humans as a species, not merely with males. Secondly, expanding beyond the use of 'man' puts humans in an ecological context; for Zarathustra to claim that 'the overman shall be the meaning of the earth' is to argue for a new relationship between humans and nature, between humans and the earth. Overman is preferred to superhuman for two basic reasons; first, it preserves the word play Nietzsche intends with his constant references to going under and going over, and secondly, the comic book associations called to mind by 'superman' and super-heroes generally tend to reflect negatively, and frivolously, on the term superhuman. Thus Spoke Zarathustra What is the ape to a human? A laughing stock or a painful embarrassment. And that is precisely what the human shall be to the overman: a laughing stock or a painful embarrassment. You have made your way from worm to human, and much in you is still worm. Once you were apes, and even now a human is still more ape than any ape. But whoever is wisest among you is also just a conflict and a cross between plant and ghost. But do I implore you to become ghosts or plants? Theovermanisthemeaningoftheearth.Letyourwillsay:theoverman shall be the meaning of the earth! I beseech you, my brothers, remain faithful to the earth and do not believe those who speak to you of extraterrestrial hopes! They are mixers of poisons whether they know it or not. They are despisers of life, dying off and self-poisoned, of whom the earth is weary: so let them fade away! Once the sacrilege against God was the greatest sacrilege, but God died, and then all these desecrators died. Now to desecrate the earth is the most terrible thing, and to esteem the bowels of the unfathomable higher than the meaning of the earth!"}
{"text": "Once the soul gazed contemptuously at the body, and then such contempt was the highest thing: it wanted the body gaunt, ghastly, starved. Thus it intended to escape the body and the earth. Oh this soul was gaunt, ghastly and starved, and cruelty was the lust of this soul! But you, too, my brothers, tell me: what does your body proclaim about your soul? Is your soul not poverty and filth and a pitiful contentment? Truly, mankind is a polluted stream. One has to be a sea to take in a polluted stream without becoming unclean. Behold, I teach you the overman: he is this sea, in him your great contempt can go under. What is the greatest thing that you can experience? It is the hour of your great contempt. The hour in which even your happiness turns to nausea and likewise your reason and your virtue. The hour in which you say: 'What matters my happiness? It is poverty and filth, and a pitiful contentment. But my happiness ought to justify existence itself!' NowZarathustra looked at the people and he was amazed. Then he spoke thus: 'Mankind is a rope fastened between animal and overman - a rope over an abyss. A dangerous crossing, a dangerous on-the-way, a dangerous looking back, a dangerous shuddering and standing still. What is great about human beings is that they are a bridge and not a purpose: what is lovable about human beings is that they are a crossing over and a going under . I love those who do not know how to live unless by going under, for they are the ones who cross over. I love the great despisers, because they are the great venerators and arrows of longing for the other shore."}
{"text": "I love those who do not first seek behind the stars for a reason to go under and be a sacrifice, who instead sacrifice themselves for the earth, so that the earth may one day become the overman's. I love the one who lives in order to know, and who wants to know so that one day the overman may live. And so he wants his going under. I love the one who works and invents in order to build a house for the overman and to prepare earth, animals and plants for him: for thus he wants his going under. Ilove the one who loves his virtue: for virtue is the will to going under and an arrow of longing. Ilove the one who does not hold back a single drop of spirit for himself, but wants instead to be entirely the spirit of his virtue: thus he strides as spirit over the bridge. I love the one who makes of his virtue his desire and his doom: thus for the sake of his virtue he wants to live on and to live no more. Ilove the one who does not want to have too many virtues. One virtue is more virtue than two, because it is more of a hook on which his doom may hang. I love the one whose soul squanders itself, who wants no thanks and gives none back: for he always gives and does not want to preserve himself. Ilovethe one who is ashamed when the dice fall to his fortune and who then asks: am I a cheater? - For he wants to perish. Ilove the one who casts golden words before his deeds and always does even more than he promises: for he wants his going under. I love the one who justifies people of the future and redeems those of the past: for he wants to perish of those in the present. I love the one who chastises his god, because he loves his god: for he must perish of the wrath of his god. I love the one whose soul is deep even when wounded, and who can perish of a small experience: thus he goes gladly over the bridge. Ilove the one whose soul is overfull, so that he forgets himself, and all things are in him: thus all things become his going under."}
{"text": "SeeLuke : . This is the first of approximately directallusionstotheBible,inwhichNietzsche typically applies Christ's words to Zarathustra's task, or inverts Christ's words in order to achieve a life- and earth-affirming effect. Whenever possible, these passages will be translated using the phrasing of the Bible. For drafts and alternative versions of the various chapters, biblical references, and other references see vol. of the Kritische Studienausgabe , which provides commentary to vols. - and treats TSZ on pp. - ."}
{"text": "I love the one who is free of spirit and heart: thus his head is only the entrails of his heart, but his heart drives him to his going under. I love all those who are like heavy drops falling individually from the dark cloud that hangs over humanity: they herald the coming of the lightning, and as heralds they perish. Behold, I am a herald of the lightning and a heavy drop from the cloud: but this lightning is called overman. -' When Zarathustra had spoken these words he looked again at the people and fell silent. 'There they stand,' he said to his heart, 'they laugh, they do not understand me, I am not the mouth for these ears. Must one first smash their ears so that they learn to hear with their eyes? Must one rattle like kettle drums and penitence preachers? Or do they believe only a stutterer? They have something of which they are proud. And what do they call that which makes them proud? Education they call it, it distinguishes them from goatherds. For that reason they hate to hear the word 'contempt' applied to them. So I shall address their pride instead. Thus I shall speak to them of the most contemptible person: but he is the last human being .' And thus spoke Zarathustra to the people: 'It is time that mankind set themselves a goal. It is time that mankind plant the seed of their highest hope. Their soil is still rich enough for this. But one day this soil will be poor and tame, and no tall tree will be able to grow from it anymore. Beware! The time approaches when human beings no longer launch the arrow of their longing beyond the human, and the string of their bow will have forgotten how to whir! I say to you: one must still have chaos in oneself in order to give birth to a dancing star. I say to you: you still have chaos in you. Beware! The time approaches when human beings will no longer give birth to a dancing star. Beware! The time of the most contemptible human is coming, the one who can no longer have contempt for himself. Behold! I show you the last human being ."}
{"text": "'What is love? What is creation? What is longing? What is a star?' thus asks the last human being, blinking. Then the earth has become small, and on it hops the last human being, who makes everything small. His kind is ineradicable, like the flea beetle; the last human being lives longest. 'We invented happiness' - say the last human beings, blinking. They abandoned the regions where it was hard to live: for one needs warmth. One still loves one's neighbor and rubs up against him: for one needs warmth. Becoming ill and being mistrustful are considered sinful by them: one proceeds with caution. A fool who still stumbles over stones or humans! A bit of poison once in a while; that makes for pleasant dreams. And much poison at the end, for a pleasant death. One still works, for work is a form of entertainment. But one sees to it that the entertainment is not a strain. One no longer becomes poor and rich: both are too burdensome. Who wants to rule anymore? Who wants to obey anymore? Both are too burdensome. Noshepherd and one herd! Each wants the same, each is the same, and whoever feels differently goes voluntarily into the insane asylum. 'Formerly the whole world was insane' - the finest ones say, blinking. One is clever and knows everything that has happened, and so there is no end to their mockery. People still quarrel but they reconcile quickly otherwise it is bad for the stomach. One has one's little pleasure for the day and one's little pleasure for the night: but one honors health. 'We invented happiness' say the last human beings, and they blink.' And here ended the first speech of Zarathustra, which is also called 'The Prologue,' for at this point he was interrupted by the yelling and merrimentofthecrowd.'Giveusthislasthumanbeing,ohZarathustra'thus they cried - 'make us into these last human beings! Then we will make you a gift of the overman!' And all the people jubilated and clicked their tongues. But Zarathustra grew sad and said to his heart: 'They do not understand me. I am not the mouth for these ears."}
{"text": "Too long apparently I lived in the mountains, too much I listened to brooks and trees: now I speak to them as to goatherds."}
{"text": "Mysoul is calm and bright as the morning mountains. But they believe I am cold, that I jeer, that I deal in terrible jests. And now they look at me and laugh, and in laughing they hate me too. There is ice in their laughter.' Then, however, something happened that struck every mouth silent and forced all eyes to stare. For in the meantime the tightrope walker had begun his work; he had emerged from a little door and was walking across the rope stretched between two towers, such that it hung suspended over the market place and the people. Just as he was at the midpoint of his way, the little door opened once again and a colorful fellow resembling a jester leaped forth and hurried after the first man with quick steps. 'Forward, sloth, smuggler, pale face! Or I'll tickle you with my heel! What business have you here between the towers? You belong in the tower, you should be locked away in the tower, for you block the way for one who is better than you!' And with each word he came closer and closer to him. But when he was only one step behind him, the terrifying thing occurred that struck every mouth silent and forced all eyes to stare: - he let out a yell like a devil and leaped over the man who was in his way. This man, seeing his rival triumph in this manner, lost his head and the rope. He threw away his pole and plunged into the depths even faster than his pole, like a whirlwind of arms and legs. The market place and the people resembled the sea when a storm charges in: everyone fled apart and into one another, and especially in the spot where the body had to impact. But Zarathustra stood still and the body landed right beside him, badly beaten and broken, but not yet dead. After a while the shattered man regained consciousness and saw Zarathustra kneeling beside him. 'What are you doing here?' he said finally. 'I've known for a long time that the devil would trip me up. Now he is going to drag me off to hell: are you going to stop him?' 'By my honor, friend!' answered Zarathustra. 'All that you are talking about does not exist. There is no devil and no hell. Your soul will be dead even sooner than your body - fear no more!'"}
{"text": "The man looked up mistrustfully. 'If you speak the truth,' he said, 'then I lose nothing when I lose my life. I am not much more than an animal that has been taught to dance by blows and little treats.'"}
{"text": "'Not at all,' said Zarathustra. 'You made your vocation out of danger, and there is nothing contemptible about that. Now you perish of your vocation, and for that I will bury you with my own hands.' When Zarathustra said this the dying man answered no more, but he moved his hand as if seeking Zarathustra's hand in gratitude. - Meanwhileeveningcameandthemarketplacehidindarkness.Thepeople scattered, for even curiosity and terror grow weary. But Zarathustra sat beside the dead man on the ground and was lost in thought, such that he lost track of time. Night came at last and a cold wind blew over the lonely one. Then Zarathustra stood up and said to his heart: 'Indeed, a nice catch of fish Zarathustra has today! No human being did he catch, but a corpse instead. Uncanny is human existence and still without meaning: a jester can spell its doom. I want to teach humans the meaning of their being, which is the overman, the lightning from the dark cloud 'human being.' But I am still far away from them, and I do not make sense to their senses. For mankind I am still a midpoint between a fool and a corpse. The night is dark, the ways of Zarathustra are dark. Come, my cold and stiff companion! I shall carry you where I will bury you with my own hands.' When Zarathustra had said this to his heart, he hoisted the corpse onto his back and started on his way. And he had not yet gone a hundred paces when someone sneaked up on him and whispered in his ear - and behold! The one who spoke was the jester from the tower. 'Go away from this town, oh Zarathustra,' he said. 'Too many here hate you. The good and the just hate you and they call you their enemy and despiser; the believers of the true faith hate you and they call you the danger of the multitude. It was your good fortune that they laughed at you: and really, you spoke like a jester. It was your good fortune that you took up with the dead dog; when you lowered yourself like that, you rescued yourself for today. But go away from this town - or tomorrow I shall leap over you, a living man"}
{"text": "over a dead one.' And when he had said this, the man disappeared, but Zarathustra continued his walk through dark lanes. At the town gate he met the gravediggers. They shone their torches in his face, recognized Zarathustra and sorely ridiculed him. 'Zarathustra is lugging away the dead dog: how nice that he's become a gravedigger! For our hands are too pure for this roast. Would Zarathustra steal this morsel from the devil? So be it then! And good luck with your meal! If only the devil were not a better thief than Zarathustra! - he'll steal them both, he'll devour them both!' And they laughed and huddled together. Zarathustra did not say a word and went on his way. By the time he had walked for two hours past woods and swamps, he had heard too much of the hungry howling of wolves and he grew hungry himself. And so he stopped at a lonely house in which a light was burning. 'Hunger falls upon me like a robber,' said Zarathustra. 'In woods and swamps my hunger falls upon me and in the deep night. Myhunger has odd moods. Often it comes to me only after a meal, and today it did not come the whole day: just where was it?' And so Zarathustra pounded on the door to the house. An old man appeared, bearing a light, and he asked: 'Who comes to me and to my bad sleep?' 'A living man and a dead one,' replied Zarathustra. 'Give me food and drink, I forgot it during the day. Whoever feeds the hungry quickens his own soul - thus speaks wisdom.' The old man went away but returned promptly and offered Zarathustra bread and wine. 'This is a bad region for those who hunger,' he said. 'That is why I live here. Beast and human being come to me, the hermit. But bid your companion eat and drink, he is wearier than you.' Zarathustra replied: 'My companion is dead, I would have a hard time persuading him.' 'That does not concern me,' snapped the old man. 'Whoever knocks at my house must also take what I offer him. Eat and take care!' -"}
{"text": "Thereupon Zarathustra walked again for two hours, trusting the path and the light of the stars, for he was a practiced night-walker and loved to look in the face of all sleepers. But as dawn greyed Zarathustra found himself in a deep wood and no more path was visible to him. Then he laid the dead man into a hollow tree - for he wanted to protect him from the wolves - and he laid himself down head first at the tree, upon the earth Thus Spoke Zarathustra and the moss. And soon he fell asleep, weary in body but with a calm soul. Long Zarathustra slept, and not only the dawn passed over his face but the morning as well. At last, however, he opened his eyes: amazed Zarathustra looked into the woods and the silence, amazed he looked into himself. Then he stood up quickly, like a seafarer who all at once sees land, and he rejoiced, for he saw a new truth. And thus he spoke to his heart: 'It dawned on me: I need companions, and living ones - not dead companions and corpses that I carry with me wherever I want. Instead I need living companions who follow me because they want to follow themselves - wherever I want. It dawned on me: let Zarathustra speak not to the people, but instead to companions! Zarathustra should not become the shepherd and dog of a herd! To lure many away from the herd - for that I came. The people and herd shall be angry with me: Zarathustra wants to be called a robber by shepherds. Shepherds I say, but they call themselves the good and the just. Shepherds I say: but they call themselves the faithful of the true faith. Look at the good and the just! Whom do they hate most? The one who breaks their tablets of values, the breaker, the lawbreaker - but he is the creative one. Look at the faithful of all faiths! Whom do they hate most? The one who breaks their tablets of values, the breaker, the lawbreaker - but he is the creative one. Companions the creative one seeks and not corpses, nor herds and believers. Fellow creators the creative one seeks, who will write new values on new tablets."}
{"text": "Companions the creative one seeks, and fellow harvesters; for to him everything stands ready for harvest. But he lacks the hundred scythes, and so he plucks out spikes and is angry. Companions the creative one seeks, and those who know how to whet their scythes. They shall be called annihilators and despisers of good and evil. But they are the harvesters and the celebrators."}
{"text": "And if some day my wisdom abandons me - oh it loves to fly away! may my pride then fly away with my folly!' - Thus began Zarathustra's going under."}
{"text": "Threemetamorphosesofthe spirit I name for you: how the spirit becomes a camel, and the camel a lion, and finally the lion a child. To the spirit there is much that is heavy; to the strong, carrying spirit imbued with reverence. Its strength demands what is heavy and heaviest. What is heavy? thus asks the carrying spirit. It kneels down like a camel and wants to be well loaded. What is heaviest, you heroes? thus asks the carrying spirit, so that I might take it upon myself and rejoice in my strength. Is it not this: lowering oneself in order to hurt one's pride? Letting one's foolishness glow in order to mock one's wisdom? Oris it this: abandoning our cause when it celebrates victory? Climbing high mountains in order to tempt the tempter? Or is it this: feeding on the acorns and grass of knowledge and for the sake of truth suffering hunger in one's soul? Or is it this: being ill and sending the comforters home and making friends with the deaf who never hear what you want? Or is it this: wading into dirty water when it is the water of truth, and not shrinking away from cold frogs and hot toads? Or is it this: loving those who despise us, and extending a hand to the ghost when it wants to frighten us? All of these heaviest things the carrying spirit takes upon itself, like a loaded camel that hurries into the desert, thus it hurries into its desert. But in the loneliest desert the second metamorphosis occurs. Here the spirit becomes lion, it wants to hunt down its freedom and be master in its own desert. Here it seeks its last master, and wants to fight him and its last god. For victory it wants to battle the great dragon. Thus spoke Zarathustra. And then he sojourned in the town which is called The Motley Cow."}
{"text": "Awise man was praised to Zarathustra who could speak well of sleep and of virtue. For this he was much honored and rewarded, and all the youths Thus Spoke Zarathustra sat at his feet. Zarathustra went to him and sat at his feet with all the youths. And thus spoke the wise man: 'Have honor and bashfulness for sleep! That is the first thing! And avoid all who sleep badly and remain awake nights! Even the thief is bashful toward sleep; he constantly steals through the night, silently. But the watchman of the night is shameless, and shamelessly he carries his horn. Sleeping is no mean art, it is necessary to remain awake the entire day for it. Ten times a day you must overcome yourself, that makes for a good weariness and is poppy for the soul. Ten times you must reconcile yourself again with yourself, for overcoming causes bitterness and the unreconciled sleep badly. Ten truths you must find by day, or else you will still be seeking truth by night and your soul will have remained hungry. Ten times you must laugh by day and be cheerful, or else your stomach will bother you at night, this father of gloom. Few know it but one must have all the virtues in order to sleep well. Shall I bear false witness? Shall I commit adultery? Shall I covet my neighbor's maid? All that would be incompatible with good sleep. And even when one has all the virtues, one must understand one more thing: how to send the virtues to sleep at the right time. So that they do not quarrel with each other, the good little women! And quarrel over you, wretch! At peace with God and neighbor, thus good sleep demands. And at peace too with the neighbor's devil! Otherwise he will be at your house at night. Honor the authorities and practice obedience, even toward the crooked authorities! Thus good sleep demands. What can I do about it that the powers like to walk on crooked legs? He shall always be the best shepherd in my view who leads his sheep to the greenest pasture; this is compatible with good sleep. I do not want many honors, nor great treasures - that inflames the spleen. But sleep is bad without a good name and a little treasure. A little company is more welcome to me than evil company, but they must go and come at the right time, for this is compatible with good sleep."}
{"text": "Once Zarathustra too cast his delusion beyond humans, like all hinterworldly. At that time the world seemed to me the work of a suffering and tortured god. Then the world seemed a dream to me and the fiction of a god; colorful smoke before the eyes of a divine dissatisfied being. Good and evil and joy and suffering and I and you - colorful smoke it seemed to me before creative eyes. The creator wanted to look away from himself and so he created the world. It is drunken joy to the suffering one to look away from one's suffering andtoloseoneself. Drunken joy and losing-oneself the world once seemed to me. This world, the eternally imperfect, the mirror image and imperfect image of an eternal contradiction-adrunken joy to its imperfect creator: thus the world once seemed to me. So I too once cast my delusion beyond humans, like all hinterworldly. Beyond humans in truth? Oh my brothers, this god that I created was of human make and madness, like all gods! Human he was, and only a poor flake of human and ego. From my own ash and ember it came to me, this ghost, and truly! It did not come to me from beyond! What happened, my brothers? I overcame myself, my suffering self, I carried my own ashes to the mountain, I invented a brighter flame for myself and behold! The ghost shrank from me! Nowitwouldbesufferingandtorturefortheconvalescedonetobelieve in such ghosts. Now it would be suffering and humiliation. Thus I speak to the hinterworldly. It was suffering and incapacity that created all hinterworlds, and that brief madness of happiness that only the most suffering person experiences. 'Von den Hinterweltlern,' literally: on those who are of, or believe in, a world beyond, a hidden or a back-world, a secret world, bears similar connotations to English hinterland, i.e. regions that are remote, far away from the cities. Hintermann is a man behind the scenes, a secret advisor; Hintergedanken are secret thoughts or ulterior motives. Hintern as a noun is the same as English 'behind,' with behind meaning a person's backside."}
{"text": "Weariness that wants its ultimate with one great leap, with a death leap; a poor unknowing weariness that no longer even wants to will: that created all gods and hinterworlds. Believe me, my brothers! It was the body that despaired of the body it probed with the fingers of a befooled spirit on the walls of the ultimate. Believe me, my brothers! It was the body that despaired of the earth then it heard the belly of being speaking to it. And then it wanted to break head first through the ultimate walls, and not only with its head, beyond to 'the other world.' But 'the other world' is well hidden from humans, that dehumaned, inhuman world that is a heavenly nothing. And the belly of being does not speak at all to humans, unless as a human. Indeed, all being is hard to prove and hard to coax to speech. Tell me, my brothers, is not the strangest of all things still proven best? Yes, this ego and the ego's contradiction and confusion still speak most honestly about its being; this creating, willing, valuing ego which is the measure and value of things. Andthis most honest being, this ego - it speaks of love and it still wants the body, even when it poetizes and fantasizes and flutters with broken wings. It learns to speak ever more honestly, this ego. And the more it learns, the more it finds words and honors for the body and the earth. My ego taught me a new pride, I teach it to mankind: no longer bury your head in the sand of heavenly things, but bear it freely instead, an earthly head that creates a meaning for the earth! I teach mankind a new will: to want the path that human beings have traveled blindly, to pronounce it good and no longer sneak to the side of it like the sick and the dying-out. It was the sick and the dying-out who despised the body and the earth and invented the heavenly and its redeeming drops of blood. But even these sweet and shadowy poisons they took from the body and the earth! They wanted to escape their misery and the stars were too distant for them. So they sighed 'Oh if only there were heavenly paths on which to sneak into another being and happiness!' - Then they invented their schemes and bloody little drinks!"}
{"text": "Now they fancied themselves detached from this earth, these ingrates. But what did they have to thank for the fits and bliss of their detachment? Their body and this earth. Zarathustra is gentle to the sick. Indeed, he is not angered by their ways of comfort and ingratitude. May they become convalescents and overcomers and create for themselves a higher body! Nor is he angered by the convalescent when he tenderly gazes upon his delusion and sneaks around the grave of his God at midnight. But to me even his tears remain sickness and sick body. Therewerealwaysmanysicklypeopleamongthosewhopoetizeandare addicted to God; with rage they hate the knowing ones and that youngest of virtues which is called honesty. Backwardtheylookalwaystowarddarkertimes,forthen,truly,delusion and faith were another matter. Raving of reason was next to godliness, and doubting was sin. All too well I know these next-to-godliness types: they want people to believe in them, and that doubting is sin. All too well I know also what they themselves believe in most. Indeed, not in hinterworlds and redeeming blood drops, but instead they too believe most in the body, and their own body is to them their thing in itself. But to them it is a sickly thing, and gladly would they jump out of their skin. Hence they listen to the preachers of death and they preach of hinterworlds themselves. Hear my brothers, hear the voice of the healthy body: a more honest and purer voice is this. More honestly and more purely speaks the healthy body, the perfect and perpendicular body, and it speaks of the meaning of the earth. Thus spoke Zarathustra."}
{"text": "To the despisers of the body I want to say my words. I do not think they should relearn and teach differently, instead they should bid their own bodies farewell - and thus fall silent. 'Body am I and soul' - so speaks a child. And why should one not speak like children?"}
{"text": ", First Part = But the awakened, the knowing one says: body am I through and. , First Part = through, and nothing besides; and soul is just a word for something on. the body., First Part = The body is a great reason, a multiplicity with one sense, a war and a. , First Part = peace, one herd and one shepherd. Your small reason, what you call 'spirit' is also a tool of your body, my. , First Part = 'I' you say and are proud of this word. But what is greater is that in. not say I, but, First Part = . , First Part = which you do not want to believe - your body and its great reason. It does does I. Whatthe sense feels, what the spirit knows, in itself that will never have. , First Part = an end. But sense and spirit would like to persuade you that they are the. , First Part = end of all things: so vain are they.. , First Part = Work- and plaything are sense and spirit, behind them still lies the self.. , First Part = supposed to think. The self says to the ego: 'Feel pleasure here!' Then it is pleased and. , First Part = it. is supposed to think!, First Part = reflects on how it might feel pleased more often - and for that purpose. , First Part = To the despisers of the body I want to say a word. That they disrespect. destroys. It rules and is also the ruler of the ego., First Part = is based on their respect. What is it that created respect and disrespect. , First Part = Behind your thoughts and feelings, my brother, stands a powerful com- mander, an unknown wise man - he is called self. He lives in your body,. he is your body., First Part = There is more reason in your body than in your best wisdom. And. wisdom?, First Part = who knows then to what end your body requires precisely your best. , First Part = Your self laughs at your ego and its proud leaps. 'What are these. leaps and flights of thought to me?' it says to itself. 'A detour to my, First Part = . , First Part = purpose. I am the leading strings of the ego and the prompter of its. concepts.', First Part ="}
{"text": "reflects on how it might suffer no more - and just for that purpose it is. The self says to the ego: 'Feel pain here!' And then it suffers and, First Part = . , First Part = and value and will?"}
{"text": "The creative self created respect and disrespect for itself, it created pleasure and pain for itself. The creative body created spirit for itself as the hand of its will. Even in your folly and your contempt, you despisers of the body, you serve your self. I say to you: your self itself wants to die and turns away from life. No longer is it capable of that which it wants most: to create beyond itself. This it wants most of all, this is its entire fervor. But now it is too late for that, and so your self wants to go under, you despisers of the body. Your self wants to go under, and for this reason you became despisers of the body! For you no longer are capable of creating beyond yourselves. And that is why you are angry now at life and earth. There is an unknown envy in the looking askance of your contempt. I will not go your way, you despisers of the body! You are not my bridges to the overman! - Thus spoke Zarathustra."}
{"text": "Mybrother, if you have one virtue, and it is your virtue, then you have it in common with no one. To be sure, you want to call her by name and caress her; you want to tug at her ear and have fun with her. And behold! Now you have her name in common with the people and have become the people and the herd with your virtue! You would do better to say: 'Unspeakable and nameless is that which causes my soul agony and sweetness and is even the hunger of my entrails.' Let your virtue be too high for the familiarity of names, and if you must speak of it, then do not be ashamed to stammer about it. Then speak and stammer: 'This is my good, I love this, thus I like it entirely, thus alone do I want the good. I do not want it as a divine law, I do not want is as a human statute and requirement. It shall be no signpost for me to overearths and paradises."}
{"text": "Youdowanttokill,youjudgesandsacrificers,untiltheanimalhasnodded? Behold, the pale criminal has nodded: from his eyes speaks the great contempt. 'Myegois something that shall be overcome: my ego is to me the great contempt for mankind,' so speak these eyes. That he condemned himself was his highest moment: do not allow the sublime one to return to his baseness! There is no redemption for one who suffers so from himself, unless it were the quick death. Your killing, you judges, should be pity and not revenge. And insofar as you kill, see to it that you yourselves justify life! It is not enough that you reconcile yourself with the one you kill. Let your sadness be love for the overman - thus you justify that you still live! 'Enemy' you should say, but not 'villain'; 'sick man' you should say, but not 'scoundrel'; 'fool' you should say, but not 'sinner.' And you, red judge, if you were to speak aloud all the things you have already done in your thoughts, then everyone would cry: 'Away with this filth and poisonous worm!' But thought is one thing, and deed another, and the image of a deed yet another. The wheel of motive does not roll between them. An image made this pale human pale. He was equal to his deed when he committed it, but he could not bear its image once he had done it. From then on he always saw himself as the doer of one deed. I call this madness: the exception reversed itself to the essence. A streak in the dirt stops a hen cold; the stroke he executed stopped his poor reason cold - madness after the deed I call this. Listen, you judges! There is still another madness, and it is before the deed. Oh, you did not crawl deeply enough into this soul! Thus speaks the red judge: 'Why did this criminal kill? He wanted to rob.' But I say to you: his soul wanted blood, not robbery. He thirsted for the bliss of the knife! But his poor reason did not comprehend this madness and it persuaded him.'Whatdoesbloodmatter?'itsaid.'Don'tyouatleastwanttocommit robbery in the process? Take revenge?'"}
{"text": "Of all that is written I love only that which one writes with his blood. Write with blood, and you will experience that blood is spirit. It is not easily possible to understand the blood of another: I hate the reading idlers."}
{"text": "Whoever knows the reader will do nothing more for the reader. One more century of readers - and the spirit itself will stink. That everyone is allowed to learn to read ruins not only writing in the long run, but thinking too. Once the spirit was God, then it became human and now it is even becoming rabble. Whoever writes in blood and proverbs does not want to be read, but to be learned by heart. In the mountains the shortest way is from peak to peak, but for that one must have long legs. Proverbs should be peaks, and those who are addressed should be great and tall. The air thin and pure, danger near and the spirit full of cheerful spite: these fit together well. I want to have goblins around me, for I am courageous. Courage that scares off ghosts creates its own goblins - courage wants to laugh. Inolonger sympathize with you; this cloud beneath me, this black and heavy thing at which I laugh - precisely this is your thundercloud. You look upward when you long for elevation. And I look down because I am elevated. Who among you can laugh and be elevated at the same time? Whoever climbs the highest mountain laughs at all tragic plays and tragic realities. Courageous, unconcerned, sarcastic, violent - thus wisdom wants us: she is a woman and always loves only a warrior. You say to me: 'Life is hard to bear.' But why would you have your pride in the morning and your resignation in the evening? Life is hard to bear: but then do not carry on so tenderly! We are all of us handsome, load bearing jack- and jillasses. What have we in common with the rosebud that trembles because a drop of dew lies on its body? It is true: we love life not because we are accustomed to life but because we are accustomed to love. There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness. Andeventome,onewholikes life, it seems butterflies and soap bubbles and whatever is of their kind among human beings know most about happiness. Thus Spoke Zarathustra I'm changing too fast. My today contradicts my yesterday. I often skip steps when I climb - no step forgives me that."}
{"text": "If I am at the top then I always find myself alone. No one speaks with me, the frost of loneliness makes me shiver. What do I want in the heights? How ashamed I am of my climbing and stumbling! How I mock my violent panting! HowIhatetheflyingone!HowwearyIamintheheights!' Here the young man fell silent. And Zarathustra regarded the tree at which they stood and spoke thus: 'This tree stands here lonely on the mountain; it grew high beyond humans and animals. And if it wanted to speak, it would have no one who understood it: so high it grew. Now it waits and waits - but for what does it wait? It lives too near the clouds' abode: it waits for the first lightning bolt?' When Zarathustra had said this the young man cried out, gesturing agitatedly: 'Yes, Zarathustra, you speak the truth. I longed for my destruction when I aspired to the heights, and you are the lightning for which I waited! Look, what am I anymore, now that you have appeared among us! It is my envy of you that has destroyed me!' - Thus spoke the young man and he wept bitterly. But Zarathustra put his arm around him and led him away. And after they had walked together for a while Zarathustra started speaking thus: 'It tears my heart apart. Better than your words can say, your eyes tell me all your danger. You are still not free, you seek freedom. Your seeking made you sleepdeprived and over-awake. You aspire to the free heights, your soul thirsts for the stars. But your wicked instincts also thirst for freedom. Your wild dogs want to get free; they bark with joy in their cellar when your spirit contrives to liberate all prisons. To me you are still a prisoner who plots his freedom. Alas, the soul of such prisoners grows clever, but also deceptive and rotten. The one who is free of spirit must still purify himself. Much prison and mold is left in him: his eyes must still become pure. Yes, I know your danger. But by my love and hope I beseech you: do not throw away your love and hope!"}
{"text": ", First Part = You still feel noble, and the others who grudge you and give you the. , First Part = evil eye, they still feel your nobility too. Know that a noble person stands. in everyone's way., First Part = Anoble person also stands in the way of the good: and even when they. , First Part = call him a good man, they do so in order to get rid of him.. , First Part = The noble person wants to create new things and a new virtue. The. , First Part = good person wants old things, and for old things to be preserved.. , First Part = But it is not the danger of the noble one that he will become a good. , First Part = person, but a churl, a mocker, an annihilator.. , First Part = Oh, I knew noble people who lost their highest hope. And then they. , First Part = Then they lived churlishly in brief pleasures, scarcely casting their. , First Part = goals beyond the day.. , First Part = Once they thought of becoming heroes: now they are libertines. To. , First Part = they preach departure from life and pass away themselves! There are the consumptive of the soul: scarcely are they born when. , First Part = they begin to die and long for the teachings of weariness and resignation. They would like to be dead and we shall honor their will! Let us beware. On the Preachers of Death, First Part = There are preachers of death, and the earth is full of people to whom departure from life must be preached.. The earth is full of the superfluous, life is spoiled by the all too many. May they be lured from this life with the 'eternal life!', First Part = . , First Part = 'Yellow ones,' so the preachers of death are called, or 'black ones.'. , First Part = There are the terrible ones, who carry the predator about in themselves and have no choice but lust or self-laceration. And even their lusting is. But I want to show them to you in still different colors., First Part = . of waking these dead and disturbing these living coffins!, First Part = They encounter a sick or a very old person or a corpse, and right away they say 'life is refuted!'"}
{"text": "But only they are refuted and their eyes, which see only the one face of existence. Cloaked in thick melancholy and greedy for the small accidents that bring death, thus they wait and clench their teeth. Or again: they reach for candy while mocking their childishness; they cling to their straw of life and mock the fact that they cling to a straw. Their wisdom says: 'A fool who goes on living, but we are such fools! And precisely that is the most foolish thing about life!' 'Life is only suffering,' so speak others, and do not lie; then see to it that you cease. Then see to it that the life that is only suffering ceases! And let the doctrine of your virtue speak thus: 'Thou shalt kill thyself! Thou shalt steal thyself away!' 'Sex is sin,' say the ones who preach death - 'let us step aside and not beget children!' 'Giving birth is strenuous,' - say the others - 'why continue to give birth? One bears only the unhappy!' And they too are preachers of death. 'Pity is needed,' - so say the third kind. 'Take what I have! Take what I am! All the less does life bind me!' If they were the pitying kind through and through, they would ruin the lives of their neighbors. Being evil - that would be their proper goodness. But they want to get free of life; what do they care that they bind others still tighter with their chains and gifts! And you too, for whom life is hectic work and unrest: are you not very weary of life? Are you not very ripe for the sermon of death? All of you who are in love with hectic work and whatever is fast, new, strange - you find it hard to bear yourselves, your diligence is escape and the will to forget yourself. If you believed more in life, you would hurl yourself less into the moment. But you do not have enough content in yourselves for waiting not even for laziness! Everywhere sounds the voice of those who preach death: and the earth is full of people to whom departure from life must be preached. Or 'the eternal life.' It's all the same to me - if only they pass away quickly! Thus spoke Zarathustra."}
{"text": "Watch them scramble, these swift monkeys! They scramble all over each other and thus drag one another down into the mud and depths. They all want to get to the throne, it is their madness - as if happiness sat on the throne! Often mud sits on the throne - and often too the throne on mud. Mad all of them seem to me, and scrambling monkeys and overly aroused. Their idol smells foul to me, the cold monster: together they all smell foul to me, these idol worshipers. My brothers, do you want to choke in the reek of their snouts and cravings? Smash the windows instead and leap into the open! Get out of the way of the bad smell! Go away from the idol worship of the superfluous! Get out of the way of the bad smell! Get away from the steam of these human sacrifices! Even now the earth stands open for great souls. Many seats are still empty for the lonesome and twosome, fanned by the fragrance of silent seas. Anopenlife still stands open for great souls. Indeed, whoever possesses little is possessed all the less: praised be a small poverty! There, where the state ends, only there begins the human being who is not superfluous; there begins the song of necessity, the unique and irreplaceable melody. There, where the state ends - look there, my brothers! Do you not see it, the rainbow and the bridges of the overman? - Thus spoke Zarathustra."}
{"text": "Flee, my friend, into your solitude! I see you dazed by the noise of the great men and stung by the stings of the little. Woodandcliffknowworthilyhowtokeepsilentwithyou.Beoncemore like the tree that you love, the broad-branching one: silent and listening it hangs over the sea. Where solitude ends, there begins the market place; and where the market place begins, there begins too the noise of the great actors and the buzzing of poisonous flies."}
{"text": "In the world even the best things are still worthless without the one per-, First Part = . son who first performs them: the people call these great men performers. Thepeople little understand what is great, that is: the creator. But they, First Part = . have a sense for all performers and actors of great things. The world revolves around the inventors of new values: - it revolves, First Part = . invisibly. But the people and fame revolve around actors: thus is the course, First Part = . A truth that slips into only the finer ears he calls a lie and nothing., First Part = . of the world., First Part = . Spirit the actor has, but little conscience of spirit. He always believes, First Part = . in whatever makes people believe most strongly - believe in him ! Tomorrow he will have a new belief and the day after tomorrow an, First Part = . even newer one. He has hasty senses, like the people, and a fickle ability, First Part = . Return to your safety on account of these precipitous types: only in the, First Part = . him that means: to convince. And blood to him is the best of all possible, First Part = . grounds., First Part = . Indeed, he only believes in gods that make great noise in the world!, First Part = . The market place is full of pompous jesters - and the people are proud, First Part = . revenge., First Part = . they want a Yes or a No. Alas, do you want to set your chair between pro and contra? Be without envy on account of these unconditional and pressing types,, First Part = they want a Yes or a No. Alas, do you want to set your chair between pro and contra? Be without envy on account of these unconditional and pressing types,. you lover of truth! Never before has truth hung on the arm of an, First Part = you lover of truth! Never before has truth hung on the arm of an. absolutist., First Part = . market place is one assaulted with Yes? or No?, First Part = market place is one assaulted with Yes? or No?. For all deep wells experience is slow; they must wait long before they, First Part = . know what fell into their depth. Away from the market place and fame all greatness takes place; away,"}
{"text": "First Part = . from the market place and fame the inventors of new values have lived all, First Part = from the market place and fame the inventors of new values have lived all. along., First Part = . Flee, my friend, into your solitude: I see you stung by poisonous flies. Flee where raw, strong air blows!, First Part = . Flee into your solitude! You have lived too long near the small and, First Part = . the pitiful. Flee their invisible revenge! Against you they are nothing but, First Part = the pitiful. Flee their invisible revenge! Against you they are nothing but"}
{"text": "Do not raise your arm against them anymore! They are innumerable, and it is not your lot to be a shoo-fly. Innumerable are these small and pitiful ones; and rain drops and weeds have sufficed to bring down many a proud structure. You are no stone, but already you have become hollow from many drops. You will shatter and burst still from many drops. I see you weary from poisonous flies, torn bloody in a hundred places, and yet your pride does not even become angered. They want blood from you in all innocence, their bloodless souls demand blood - and so they sting away in all innocence. But you, deep one, you suffer too deeply even from small wounds; and before you could even heal yourself, the same poisonous worm crawled across your hand. You are too proud to slay these sweet-toothed creatures. But beware, or it will become your doom to bear all their poisonous injustice! They also buzz around you with their praise; importunity is their praising! They want the closeness of your skin and your blood. They flatter you like a god or devil; they snivel before you as before a god or devil. What's the use! They are sycophants and snivelers and nothing more. Often too they give themselves charming airs. But that has always been the cleverness of cowards; yes, cowards are clever! They think about you much with their narrow souls - you always give them pause! Everything that is thought about much gives pause. Theypunishyoufor all your virtues. What they forgive you thoroughly are only - your mistakes. Because you are mild and of just temperament, you say: 'They are not guilty of their petty existence.' But their narrow souls think: 'All great existence is guilty.' Even when you are mild toward them they still feel despised by you; and they repay your benefaction with hidden malefactions. Your wordless pride always contradicts their taste; they jubilate if only you are modest enough to be vain. That which we recognize in a person we also inflame in him - therefore beware of the petty! They feel small before you, and their baseness glimmers and glows at you in invisible revenge."}
{"text": "Haven'tyounoticedhowoftentheyfallsilentwhenyouapproachthem,, = . and how their strength abandoned them like the smoke of a dying fire?, = . Yes my friend, you are the bad conscience of your neighbors, for they are unworthy of you. Therefore they hate you and would like much to, = . suck your blood., = . Your neighbors will always be poisonous flies; that which is great in, = . you-that itself must make them more poisonous and ever more fly-like., = . Flee, my friend, into your solitude and where raw, strong air blows! It, = . is not your lot to be a shoo-fly. -, = . Thus spoke Zarathustra., = . On Chastity, = . I love the forest. It is bad to live in the cities; there too many are in heat. Is it not better to fall into the hands of a murderer than into the dreams, = . of a woman in heat?, = . on earth than to lie with a woman., = . your senses., = your senses.. Do I advise you to chastity? In some people chastity is a virtue, but in, = . many it is almost a vice., = . They abstain, to be sure: but the bitch, sensuality, leers with envy out, = . of everything they do., = . spirit this beast follows them with its unrest., = . And how sweetly the bitch, sensuality, knows how to beg for a piece of, = . spirit when she is denied a piece of meat!, = . mistrustful of your bitch., = . sufferers. Has your lust not simply disguised itself, and now calls itself, = . pity?, = And this parable too I give to you: not a few who wanted to drive out their devil went into swine themselves. Those for whom chastity is difficult should be advised against it, or else it could become their road to hell - that is, the mud and the heat of the soul. Do I speak of dirty things? That is not the worst of it to me. Not when truth is dirty, but when it is shallow the seeker of knowledge steps reluctantly into its water."}
{"text": "Indeed, there are chaste people through and through; they are milder of heart, they laugh more gladly and more richly than you. They laugh at chastity too and ask: 'what is chastity? Is chastity not folly? But this folly came to us, and not we to it. We offered this guest hostel and heart: now it dwells with us - may it stay as long as it wants!' Thus spoke Zarathustra."}
{"text": "'One is always too many around me' - thus thinks the hermit. 'Always one times one - in the long run that makes two!' I and me are always too eager in conversation: how could I stand it if there were no friend? For the hermit the friend is always a third: the third is the cork that prevents the conversation of the two from sinking into the depths. Oh, there are too many depths for all hermits. That is why they long so for a friend and his height. Our faith in others betrays the areas in which we would like to have faith in ourselves. Our longing for a friend is our betrayer. Andoften one uses love merely to leap over envy. And often one attacks and makes an enemy in order to conceal that one is open to attack. 'At least be my enemy!' - Thus speaks true respect that does not dare to ask for friendship. If one wants a friend, then one must also want to wage war for him: and in order to wage war, one must be able to be an enemy. One should honor the enemy even in one's friend. Can you step up to your friend without stepping over to him? In one's friend one should have one's best enemy. You should be closest to him in heart when you resist him. Nietzsche's bitterness toward women, and especially his view that women are incapable of friendship, were no doubt influenced by his traumatic experience with Lou Salom e, with whom he had"}
{"text": "Womanisnot yet capable of friendship. But tell me, you men, who then among you is capable of friendship? Oh how repulsive is your poverty, you men, and the stinginess of your souls! As much as you give your friend I will give even to my enemy, and would not be poorer for it. There is comradeship: may there be friendship! Thus spoke Zarathustra."}
{"text": "Many lands Zarathustra saw and many peoples; thus he discovered many peoples' good and evil. No greater market place on earth did Zarathustra find than good and evil. No people could live that did not first esteem; but if they want to preserve themselves, then they must not esteem as their neighbor esteems. Muchthat was called good by this people was called scorn and disgrace byanother:thusIfound.MuchIfoundthatwascalledevilhereanddecked in purple honors there. Never did one neighbor understand the other: always his soul was amazed at his neighbor's delusion and malice. A tablet of the good hangs over every people. Observe, it is the tablet of their overcomings; observe, it is the voice of their will to power. Praiseworthy to them is whatever they consider difficult; what is indispensable and difficult, is called good, and whatever stems from the highest need and still liberates, the rarest, the most difficult - that is praised as holy. Whatever lets them rule and triumph and shine, to the dread and envy of their neighbor, that they consider as the high, the first, the measuring, the meaning of all things. Truly, my brother, once you discover a people's need and land and sky and neighbor, you guess as well the law of their overcomings, and why they climb on this ladder to their hope. been in love. The writing of the first two parts of TSZ coincides with and chronicles Nietzsche's coming to terms with the profound betrayal he felt at the hands of both Salom'e and his friend Paul R'ee. See Adrian Del Caro, 'Andreas-Salom'e and Nietzsche: New Perspectives,' Seminar : ( ), pp. - ."}
{"text": "'Alwaysyou shall be the first and tower above others: no one shall your jealous soul love, unless it is the friend' - this is what made the soul of a Greek tremble: with this he walked the path of greatness. 'Speak the truth and be skilled with the bow and arrow' - this seemed both dear and difficult to the people from whom my name derives - the name that is both dear and difficult to me. 'Honorfather and mother and comply with their will down to the roots of one's soul' - this tablet of overcoming a different people hung over themselves and became powerful and eternal thereby. 'Practice loyalty and for loyalty's sake risk honor and blood even on evil and dangerous things' - teaching themselves thus another people conquered themselves, and thus conquering themselves they became pregnant and heavy with great hopes. Indeed, humans gave themselves all of their good and evil. Indeed, they did not take it, they did not find it, it did not fall to them as a voice from heaven. Humans first placed values into things, in order to preserve themselves -they first created meaning for things, a human meaning! That is why they call themselves 'human,' that is: the esteemer. Esteeming is creating: hear me, you creators! Esteeming itself is the treasure and jewel of all esteemed things. Only through esteeming is there value, and without esteeming the nut of existence would be hollow. Hear me, you creators! Change of values - that is the change of creators. Whoever must be a creator always annihilates. First peoples were creators and only later individuals; indeed, the individual himself is still the youngest creation. Peoples once hung a tablet of the good over themselves. Love that wants to rule and love that wants to obey such tablets created together."}
{"text": "This is a direct allusion to Zoroaster, Zarathustra's namesake. The ancient religion of Zoroastrianism is still practiced by some in Iran, formerly called Persia. Nietzsche explains the significance of using the German name of Zoroaster for his modern-day prophet in Ecce Homo ,ch. , section , where he writes: 'Zarathustra is more truthful than any other thinker. His teaching and it alone has truthfulness as the supreme virtue - that is, the opposite of the cowardice of the 'idealist' who flees from reality; Zarathustra has more courage in his body than all thinkers put together. Speak the truth and be skilled with the bow and arrow , that is Persian virtue.' In this passage Nietzsche's three peoples are the Persians, the Jews, and the Germans. Thus Spoke Zarathustra Delight in the herd is older than delight in the ego, and as long as good conscience is synonymous with herd, only bad conscience says: ego. Truly, the sly ego, loveless, wanting its benefit in the benefit of the many: that is not the origin of the herd, but instead its going under. It was always lovers and creators who created good and evil. The fire of love glows in the names of all virtues and the fire of wrath. Zarathustra saw many lands and many peoples: no greater power did Zarathustra find on earth than the works of the lovers: 'good' and 'evil' are their names. Truly, a behemoth is the power of this praising and blaming. Tell me, who will conquer it for me, you brothers? Tell me, who will throw the fetters over the thousand necks of this beast? A thousand goals there have been until now, for there have been a thousand peoples. Only the fetters for the thousand necks are still missing, the one goal is missing. Humanity still has no goal. But tell me, my brothers: if humanity still lacks a goal, does it not also still lack - humanity itself? - Thus spoke Zarathustra."}
{"text": "You crowd around your neighbor and you have pretty words for it. But I say to you: your love of the neighbor is your bad love of yourselves. You flee to your neighbor to escape yourself and you want to make a virtue of it: but I see through your 'selflessness.' The You is older than the I; the You is pronounced sacred, but not yet the I: and so humans crowd around their neighbors. Do I recommend love of the neighbor to you? I prefer instead to recommend flight from the neighbor and love of the farthest! Higher than love of the neighbor is love of the farthest and the future; higher still than love of human beings is love of things and ghosts. This ghost that runs before you, my brother, is more beautiful than you; why do you not give it your flesh and your bones? But you are afraid and run to your neighbor."}
{"text": "You cannot stand yourselves and do not love yourselves enough: now you want to seduce your neighbor to love and gild yourselves with his error. I wish you were unable to stand all these neighbors and their neighbors; then you would have to create your friend and his overflowing heart out of yourself. Youinvite a witness when you want someone to speak well of you; and when you have seduced him into thinking well of you, you then think well of yourselves. Not only he lies who speaks though he knows better, but the real liar is the one who speaks though he knows nothing. And so you visit each other and speak of yourselves and deceive your neighbor with yourselves. Thus speaks the fool: 'The company of people ruins one's character, especially when one has none.' Onepersongoestohis neighbor because he seeks himself, and the other because he would like to lose himself. Your bad love of yourselves makes your loneliness into a prison. Those farther away pay for your love of the neighbor; and even when you are together five at a time, always a sixth one must die. Nor do I love your festivals: too many actors I found there, and even the spectators behaved often like actors. I do not teach you the neighbor, but the friend. The friend shall be your festival of the earth and an anticipation of the overman. I teach you the friend and his overflowing heart. But one must understand how to be a sponge, if one wants to be loved by overflowing hearts. I teach you the friend in whom the world stands complete, a bowl of goodness - the creating friend who always has a complete world to bestow. And just as the world rolled apart for him, so it rolled together again in rings, as the becoming of good through evil, as the becoming of purpose out of accident. Let the future and the farthest be the cause of your today: in your friend you shall love the overman as your cause. My brothers, I do not recommend love of the neighbor to you: I recommend love of the farthest to you. Thus spoke Zarathustra. Thus Spoke Zarathustra"}
{"text": "Do you want to go into isolation, my brother? Do you want to seek the way to yourself? Linger a bit longer and listen to me. 'Whoever seeks easily gets lost himself. All isolation is guilt,' thus speaks the herd. And long have you belonged to the herd. The voice of the herd will still resonate in you too. And when you will say 'I no longer am of one conscience with you,' then it will be a lament and a pain. Behold, this pain itself bore the one conscience, and the last shimmer of this conscience still glows on your misery. But you want to go the way of your misery, which is the way to yourself? Then show me your right and your strength to it! Are you a new strength and a new right? A first movement? A wheel rolling out of itself? Can you compel even the stars to revolve around you? Oh, there is so much lust for the heights! There are so many spasms of the ambitious! Show me that you are not one of the lustful and the ambitious! Oh, there are so many great thoughts that do nothing more than a bellows: they puff up and make emptier. You call yourself free? Your dominating thought I want to hear, and not that you escaped from a yoke. Are you the kind of person who had the right to escape from a yoke? There are some who threw away their last value when they threw away their servitude. Free from what? What does Zarathustra care! But brightly your eyes should signal to me: free for what ? Can you give yourself your own evil and good and hang your will above yourself like a law? Can you be your own judge and the avenger of your law? It is terrible to be alone with the judge and avenger of one's own law. Thusdoes a star get thrown out into desolate space and into the icy breath of solitary being. Today you suffer still from the many, you lonely one: for today you still have your courage and your hopes intact."}
{"text": "Joche , yoke, is the same word in German and English. Here Nietzsche specifically has a yoke in mind because he is addressing the possibility of freedom among those who are yoked. In 'On a Thousand and One Goals,' Nietzsche uses the word Fesseln (fetters) in connection with the beast with a thousand necks, not yoke as indicated in the Kaufmann translation."}
{"text": "But one day solitude will make you weary, one day your pride will cringe and your courage will gnash its teeth. One day you will cry 'I am alone!' One day will you will no longer see your high, and your low will be all too near; your sublimity itself will frighten you like a ghost. One day you will cry: 'Everything is false!' There are feelings that want to kill the lonely one; if they do not succeed, well, then they must die themselves! But are you capable of being a murderer? Do you know the word 'contempt' yet, my brother? And the agony of your justice, namely to be just to those who despise you? You compel many to relearn about you; they weigh that heavily against you. You came near to them and yet passed by: they will never forgive you that. You pass over and beyond them, but the higher you climb the smaller you are to the eyes of envy. But the ones who fly they hate most. 'How would you be just toward me?' - you must say - 'I choose your injustice as my fair share.' Injustice and filth they throw at the lonely one. But my brother, if you want to be a star then you must shine through for them all the more! And beware of the good and the just! They like to crucify those who invent their own virtue - they hate the lonely one. Beware too of holy simplicity! Everything is unholy to it that is not simple; it also likes to play with fire - the stake. And beware of the attacks of your love! Too quickly the lonely one extends his hand to those he encounters. To some people you should not give your hand, but instead only your paw: and I want that your paw also has claws. But the worst enemy whom you can encounter will always be yourself; you ambush yourself in caves and woods. Lonely one, you go the way to yourself! And past you yourself leads your way and past your seven devils! To your own self you will be heretic and witch and soothsayer and fool and doubter and unholy man and villain. You must want to burn yourself up in your own flame: how could you become new if you did not first become ashes! Lonely one, you go the way of the creator: you will create yourself a god out of your seven devils! Thus Spoke Zarathustra"}
{"text": "Lonely one, you go the way of the lover: you love yourself and that is why you despise yourself as only lovers despise. The lover wants to create because he despises! What does he know of love who did not have to despise precisely what he loved! With your love go into your isolation and with your creativity, my brother; and only later will justice limp after you. With my tears go into your isolation, my brother. I love him who wants to create over and beyond himself and thus perishes. - Thus spoke Zarathustra."}
{"text": "'Why do you creep about so timidly in the twilight, Zarathustra? And what do you conceal so cautiously beneath your coat? Is it a treasure that was given to you? Or a child that was born to you? Or do you yourself now walk the paths of thieves, you friend of the evil?' - 'Indeed, my brother!' spoke Zarathustra. 'It is a treasure that was given to me: it is a little truth, which I carry. But it is unruly like a young child, and if I do not hold its mouth shut, then it cries out too loudly. As I went my way alone today, at the hour when the sun sets, I met a little old woman and she spoke thus to my soul: 'Much has Zarathustra spoken also to us women, and yet he has never spoken to us about woman.' And I replied to her: 'About woman one should speak only to men.' 'Speak to me too about woman,' she said. 'I am old enough to forget it right away.' And I humored the little old woman and spoke thus to her: Everything about woman is a riddle, and everything about woman has one solution: it is called pregnancy. A man is for woman a means: the end is always the child. But what is woman for a man? Two things the real man wants: danger and play. That is why he wants woman as the most dangerous plaything. A man should be raised for war and woman for the recreation of the warrior: everything else is folly."}
{"text": "Bundle it up and hold its mouth shut, or else it will cry out too loudly, this little truth.' 'Give me your little truth, woman!' I said. And thus spoke the little old woman: 'You go to women? Do not forget the whip!' - Thus spoke Zarathustra."}
{"text": "One day Zarathustra had fallen asleep beneath a fig tree, since it was hot, and he had laid his arm over his face. Then an adder came along and bit him in the neck, so that Zarathustra cried out in pain. When he had taken his arm from his face he looked at the snake; it recognized the eyes of Zarathustra, turned around awkwardly and tried to get away. 'Not so fast,' spoke Zarathustra. 'You have not yet accepted my thanks! You waked me in time, my way is still long.' 'Your way is still short,' said the adder sadly: 'My poison kills.' Zarathustra smiled. 'Since when did a dragon ever die of snake poison?' he said. 'But take back your poison! You are not rich enough to give it to me.' Then the snake fell upon his neck once again and licked his wound. When Zarathustra once told this to his disciples they asked: 'And what, oh Zarathustra, is the moral of your story?' To which Zarathustra responded thus: 'The annihilator of morals the good and just call me: my story is immoral. If you should have an enemy, then do not requite him evil with good, for that would shame him. Instead prove that he has does you some good. And be angry rather than shaming someone! And if you are cursed at, I do not like it that you want to bless. Better to curse along a bit! And if a great wrong befell you, then quickly add five small ones to it! Ghastly to behold is a person who suffers a wrong all by himself. Did you know this already? A wrong shared is half a right. And the one who should take a wrong upon himself is the one who can bear it! Recent scholarship on Nietzsche's view of women reveals a deeper appreciation of women than the one suggested here, which is seductively misleading. In the photo of Nietzsche, Paul R ee, and Lou Salom e, the two men are 'in harness' in front of a tiny cart, while Lou Salom e holds a toy whip. See Adrian Del Caro, 'Nietzsche, Sacher-Masoch, and the Whip,' German Studies Review : ( ), pp. - ."}
{"text": ", First Part = A small revenge is more humane than no revenge at all. And if the. , First Part = punishment is not also a right and an honor for the transgressor, then I. , First Part = It is more noble to pronounce oneself wrong than to remain right,. , First Part = especially if one is right. Only one has to be rich enough for that.. , First Part = I do not like your cold justice; and from the eyes of your judges gazes. , First Part = Tell me, where is the justice found that is love with seeing eyes?. , First Part = Then invent me the kind of love that not only bears all punishment but. also all guilt!, First Part = . , First Part = Then invent me the kind of justice that pardons everyone, except the. , First Part = And do you want to hear this too? In the person who would be thor-. But how could I want to be thoroughly just! How can I give to each his, First Part = oughly just, even lies become philanthropy.. , First Part = own! Let this be enough for me: I give to each my own. Finally, my brothers, beware of doing wrong to any hermits! How could. , First Part = a hermit forget? How could he requite?. A hermit is like a deep well. It is easy to throw in a stone; but once it, First Part = I want your victory and your freedom to long for a child. You should. Beware of offending the hermit! But if you've already done so, well you: are you a person who has a right to wish for a child? Are you the victor, the self conqueror, the master of your senses, the Or do the animal and neediness speak out of your wish? Or loneliness? Or discord with yourself?, First Part = Your should build over and beyond yourself. But first I want you built. , First Part = has sunk to the bottom, tell me: who would fetch it up again?. then, kill him too!', First Part = Thus spoke Zarathustra.. On Child and Marriage, First Part = . I have a question for you alone, my brother: like a plumb bob I cast this question into your soul, in order to know how deep it is., First Part = . You are young and wish"}
{"text": "for a child and marriage for yourself. But I ask, First Part = . ruler of your virtues? Thus I ask you., First Part = . build living monuments to your victory and your liberation., First Part = . yourselves, square in body and soul., First Part ="}
{"text": "You should not only reproduce, but surproduce! May the garden of marriage help you to that! Youshould create a higher body, a first movement, a wheel rolling out of itself - a creator you should create. Marriage: that is what I call the will by two for creating the one who is more than those who created it. Respect for one another I call marriage, and respect for the one who wills such a willing. Let this be the meaning and the truth of your marriage. But that which the far-too-many call marriage, these superfluous ones - oh, what do I call that? Oh, this poverty of the soul by two! Oh, this filth of the soul by two! Oh, this pitiful contentment by two! Marriage they call all this; and they say their marriages are made in heaven. Well, I do not like it, this heaven of the superfluous! No, I do not like them, these animals tangled in the heavenly net! And may the God stay away from me who limps up to bless what he has not joined together! Donot laugh at such marriages! Which child would not have reason to weep about its parents? Worthy this man seemed to me, and ripe for the meaning of the earth; butwhenIsawhiswoman,theearthseemedtomeahouseforthesenseless. Indeed, I wish the earth would quake in convulsions whenever a saint and a goose mate. This one went forth like a hero seeking truths, and finally he bagged himself a little dressed up lie. He calls it his marriage. That one was socially reserved and a choosy chooser. But all at once he ruined his company once and for all: he calls it his marriage. That one sought a maid with the virtues of an angel. But all at once he became the maid of a woman and now he even has to turn himself into an angel. Cautious I found all buyers now, and all have cunning eyes. But even the cunning man still buys his wife in a poke. Manybrief follies - that is what you call love. And your marriage makes an end of many brief follies, as one long stupidity. Your love of woman and woman's love of man, oh! If only it were compassion for suffering and for disguised gods! But mostly it is two animals discovering each other."}
{"text": "'Vom freien Tode' - on free death - suggests der Freitod , suicide (death entered into freely). As usual Nietzsche's emphasis is on the quality of one's life, here juxtaposed with the symbolism of one's death. My death I praise to you, the free death that comes to me because I want. And when will I want it? - Whoever has a goal and an heir wants death at the right time for his goal and heir. And out of reverence for his goal and heir he will no longer hang withered wreaths in the sanctuary of life. Indeed, I do not want to be like the rope makers: they stretch out their threads and in doing so always walk backwards. Some become too old even for their truths and victories; a toothless mouth no longer has the right to every truth. And everyone who wants to have fame must take leave of honor from time to time and practice the difficult art of leaving - at the right time. One must stop letting oneself be eaten when one tastes best; this is known by those who want to be loved for a long time. There are sour apples, to be sure, whose lot demands that they wait for the last day of autumn; and immediately they become ripe, yellow and wrinkled. With some the heart ages first and with others the mind. A few are hoary in their youth, but the late young stay long young. For some life fails: a poisonous worm eats its way to their heart. Let them see to it that their dying succeeds all the more. Some never become sweet, they rot already in summer. It is cowardice that keeps them clinging to the branch. Far too many live and far too long they hang on their branches. Would that a storm came to shake all this rot and worm-food from the tree! Would that preachers of the quick death came! They would be the right storms and shakers of the trees of life for me! But I hear only preaching of the slow death and patience with all things 'earthly.' Indeed, you preach patience with earthly things? It is the earthly things that have too much patience with you, you slanderers! Truly, too early did that Hebrew die, the one who is honored by the preachers of slow death; and for many it has since become their doom that he died too early."}
{"text": "He still knew only tears and the melancholy of the Hebrews, together with the hatred of the good and just - the Hebrew Jesus; then longing for death overcame him. Thus spoke Zarathustra."}
{"text": "When Zarathustra had taken leave of the city, which was dear to his heart and whose name was The Motley Cow, many who called themselves his disciples followed him, and they provided him escort. Thus they came to a crossroads; then Zarathustra told them he wanted to walk alone now, for he was a friend of walking alone. In parting, however, his disciples 'Von der schenkenden Tugend,' with schenken meaning 'to bestow' rather than merely 'to give.' German uses schenken to connote the special kind of giving as a gift, a present, a grant, or a donation. 'Giving' captures some of this, but German uses geben (to give) just as English does."}
{"text": "presented him with a staff upon whose golden knob a snake encircled the sun. Zarathustra was delighted with the staff and leaned on it; then he spoke thus to his disciples. Tell me now: how did gold come to have the highest value? Because it is uncommon and useless and gleaming and mild in its luster; it bestows itself always. Only as the image of the highest virtue did gold come to have the highest value. Goldlike gleams the gaze of the bestower. Golden luster makes peace between moon and sun. Uncommon is the highest virtue and useless, it is gleaming and mild in its luster: a bestowing virtue is the highest virtue. Truly,Iguessyouwell,mydisciples:likemeyoustriveforthebestowing virtue. What would you have in common with cats or wolves? This is your thirst: to become sacrifices and gifts yourselves, and therefore you thirst to amass all riches in your soul. Insatiably your soul strives for treasures and gems, because your virtue is insatiable in wanting to bestow. You compel all things to and into yourselves, so that they may gush back from your well as the gifts of your love. Indeed, such a bestowing love must become a robber of all values, but hale and holy I call this selfishness. There is another selfishness, one all too poor, a hungering one that always wants to steal; that selfishness of the sick, the sick selfishness. With the eye of the thief it looks at all that gleams; with the greed of hunger it eyes those with ample food; and always it creeps around the table of the bestowers. Sickness speaks out of such craving and invisible degeneration; the thieving greed of this selfishness speaks of a diseased body. Tell me, my brothers: what do we regard as bad and worst? Is it not degeneration ?-Andwealwaysdiagnosedegenerationwherethebestowing soul is absent. Upward goes our way, over from genus to super-genus. But a horror to us is the degenerating sense which speaks: 'Everything for me.'"}
{"text": "Degeneration ( Entartung ) is based on genus, just as Entartung is based on Art , meaning genus, species, type, or kind. Nietzsche's concern is with the human species, which he sees threatened by degeneration. Those humans who possess a superabundance of the bestowing virtue are transitioning from human (the species or Art ) to superhuman ( Uber-Art ). In Part Zarathustra will again refer specifically to a new 'beautiful species.'"}
{"text": "Upward flies our sense; thus it is a parable of our body, a parable of elevation. Such elevation parables are the names of the virtues. Thus the body goes through history, becoming and fighting. And the spirit - what is it to the body? The herald of its fights and victories, companion and echo. Parables are all names of good and evil: they do not express, they only hint. A fool who wants to know of them! Pay attention, my brothers, to every hour where your spirit wants to speak in parables: there is the origin of your virtue. There your body is elevated and resurrected; with its bliss it delights the spirit, which becomes creator and esteemer and lover and benefactor of all things. Whenyourheartflowsbroadandfulllikeariver,ablessing and a danger to adjacent dwellers: there is the origin of your virtue. When you are sublimely above praise and blame, and your will wants to command all things, as the will of a lover: there is the origin of your virtue. When you despise pleasantness and the soft bed, and cannot bed down far enough away from the softies: there is the origin of your virtue. When you are the ones who will with a single will, and this turning point of all need points to your necessity: there is the origin of your virtue. Indeed, it is a new good and evil! Indeed, a new, deep rushing and the voice of a new spring! It is power, this new virtue; it is a ruling thought and around it a wise soul: a golden sun and around it the snake of knowledge. Here Zarathustra was silent for a while and looked with love at his disciples. Then he continued to speak thus - and his voice had transformed. Remainfaithfultotheearth,mybrothers,withthepowerofyourvirtue! Let your bestowing love and your knowledge serve the meaning of the earth! Thus I beg and beseech you. Donot let it fly away from earthly things and beat against eternal walls with its wings! Oh, there has always been so much virtue that flew away! Like me, guide the virtue that has flown away back to the earth - yes, back to the body and life: so that it may give the earth its meaning, a human meaning! Thus Spoke Zarathustra"}
{"text": "In a hundred ways thus far the spirit as well as virtue has flown away and failed. Oh, in our body now all this delusion and failure dwells: there they have become body and will. In a hundred ways thus far spirit as well as virtue has essayed and erred. Indeed, human beings were an experiment. Alas, much ignorance and error have become embodied in us! Not only the reason of millennia - their madness too breaks out in us. It is dangerous to be an heir. Still we struggle step by step with the giant called accident, and over all humanity thus far nonsense has ruled, the sense-less. Let your spirit and your virtue serve the meaning of the earth, my brothers:andthevalueofallthingswillbepositednewlybyyou!Therefore you shall be fighters! Therefore you shall be creators! Knowingly the body purifies itself; experimenting with knowledge it elevates itself; all instincts become sacred in the seeker of knowledge; the soul of the elevated one becomes gay. Physician, help yourself: thus also you help your sick. Let that be his best help, that he sees with his own eyes the one who heals himself. There are a thousand paths that have never yet been walked; a thousand healths and hidden islands of life. Human being and human earth are still unexhausted and undiscovered. Wake and listen, you lonely ones! From the future come winds with secretive wingbeats; good tidings are issued to delicate ears. You lonely of today, you withdrawing ones, one day you shall be a people: from you who have chosen yourselves a chosen people shall grow and from them the overman. Indeed, the earth shall yet become a site of recovery! And already a new fragrance lies about it, salubrious - and a new hope! When Zarathustra had said these words, he grew silent like one who has notspokenhislastword.Longheweighedthestaffinhishand,doubtfully. Finally he spoke thus, and his voice had transformed. 'Alone I go now, my disciples! You also should go now, and alone! Thus I want it. Thus spoke Zarathustra."}
{"text": ". . . and only when you have all denied me will I return to you. Indeed, with different eyes, my brothers, will I then seek my lost ones; with a different love will I love you then. Zarathustra , 'On the Bestowing Virtue' ( , p. )."}
{"text": "The Child with the Mirror, 1 = . At this time Zarathustra returned again to the mountains and to the solitude of his cave and withdrew from mankind, waiting like a sower who has cast his seeds. But his soul grew full of impatience and desire for, 1 = . those whom he loved, because he still had much to give them. For this is, 1 = . the hardest thing: to close the open hand out of love, and to preserve a, 1 = . sense of shame as a bestower., 1 = . Thus moons and years passed for the lonely one; but his wisdom grew, 1 = . and its fullness caused him pain., 1 = . But one morning he woke already before dawn, reflected for a long time, 1 = . on his bed and at last spoke to his heart:, 1 = . What frightened me so in my dream that it waked me? Did not a child, 1 = . approach me carrying a mirror? 'Oh Zarathustra' - spoke the child to me - 'look at yourself in the, 1 = . mirror!', 1 = . But when I looked into the mirror I cried out, and my heart was shaken;, 1 = . forIdid not see myself there, but a devil's grimace and scornful laughter. Indeed, all too well I understand the dream's sign and warning: my, 1 = . teaching is in danger, weeds want to be wheat!, 1 = . Myenemies have become powerful and have distorted the image of my teaching, so that those dearest to me must be ashamed of the gifts I gave, 1 = . them., 1 = . My friends are lost to me; the hour has arrived to seek my lost ones! -, 1 = . ened person fighting for air, but instead more like a seer and a singer on, 1 = . whom the spirit has descended. In amazement his eagle and his snake, 1 = . looked at him, for like the dawn an impending happiness lay upon his face., 1 = . What just happened to me, my animals? - said Zarathustra. Am I not, 1 = . transformed? Did bliss not come to me like a storm wind?, 1 = . Foolish is my happiness and it will speak foolish things: it is still too, 1 = . young - so have patience with it!, 1 = . Iamwounded by my happiness:"}
{"text": "all sufferers shall be physicians to me!, 1 = . Once again I may descend to my friends and also to my enemies!, 1 = . Zarathustra may speak again and bestow and do what he loves best for, 1 = . , 1 = loved ones! Thus Spoke Zarathustra My impatient love floods over in torrents, downward, toward sunrise and sunset. From silent mountains and thunderheads of pain my soul roars into the valleys. ToolonghaveIlongedandgazedintothedistance.ToolongIbelonged to solitude - thus I forgot how to be silent. I have become mouth through and through, and a brook's bounding from high boulders: I want to plunge my speech down into the valleys. And may my torrent of love plunge into impasses! How could a torrent not finally make its way to the sea! Truly, there is a lake in me, a hermit-like and self-sufficient lake; but my torrent of love tears it along - down to the sea! New ways I go, a new speech comes to me; I became weary, like all creators, of old tongues. My spirit no longer wants to wander on worn soles. All speech runs too slowly for me: - I leap into your chariot, storm! And I shall whip even you with the whip of my malice! Like a shout and a jubilation I want to journey over broad seas until I find the blessed isles where my friends dwell - And my enemies among them! How I love everyone now, with whom I may simply speak! Even my enemies belong to my bliss. And when I want to mount my wildest horse, then my spear always helps me up best: it is the ever-ready servant of my foot - The spear I hurl against my enemies! How I thank my enemies that at last I may hurl it! Too great was the tension of my cloud: between lightning peals of laughter I shall throw hail showers into the depths. Violently my chest will heave then, violently it will blow its storm over mountains: thus relief comes to it. Indeed, my happiness and my freedom come like a storm! But my enemies should believe the evil one is raging over their heads. Indeed, you too will be frightened, my friends, because of my wild wisdom; and perhaps you will flee from it together with my enemies."}
{"text": "Oh, if only I understood how to lure you back with shepherds' flutes! Oh, if only my lioness-wisdom could learn to roar tenderly! And much we have already learned with each other! My wild wisdom wound up pregnant on lonely mountains; on naked stones she bore her young, her youngest."}
{"text": "Nowsherunsfoolishly through harsh desert and seeks and seeks gentle, Second Part = . turf - my old wild wisdom! Upon the gentle turf of your hearts, my friends! - upon your love she would like to bed her most beloved!, Second Part = . Thus spoke Zarathustra., Second Part = . On the Blessed Isles, Second Part = . The figs fall from the trees, they are good and sweet; and as they fall, their, Second Part = . red skin ruptures. I am a north wind to ripe figs., Second Part = . Thus, like figs, these teachings fall to you, my friends: now drink their, Second Part = . juice and their sweet flesh! It is autumn all around and pure sky and, Second Part = . afternoon., Second Part = . See what fullness is around us! And from such superabundance it is beautiful to look out upon distant seas., Second Part = . Once people said God when they gazed upon distant seas; but now I, Second Part = . have taught you to say: overman. Godisaconjecture, but I want that your conjecturing not reach further, Second Part = . than your creating will., Second Part = . Could you create a god? - Then be silent about any gods! But you could, Second Part = . selves into fathers and forefathers of the overman: and this shall be your, Second Part = . well create the overman., Second Part = . Not you yourselves perhaps, my brothers! But you could recreate your-, Second Part = . best creating! -, Second Part = . God is a conjecture: but I want your conjecturing to be limited to what, Second Part = . is thinkable., Second Part = . Could you think a God? - But let this mean will to truth to you; that, Second Part = . everything be transformed into what is humanly thinkable, humanly, Second Part = . visible, humanly feelable! You should think your own senses to their, Second Part = . conclusion!, Second Part = . reason, your image, your will, your love itself it should become! And truly,, Second Part = . knowledge? Neither into the incomprehensible nor into the irrational, Second Part = . could you have been born., Second Part = . how could I stand not to be a god! Therefore"}
{"text": "there are no gods., Second Part ="}
{"text": "I drew this conclusion to be sure; but now it draws me. - Godisaconjecture: but who could drink all the agony of this conjecture without dying? Should the creating person's faith be taken, and from the eagle its soaring in eagle heights? God is a thought that makes crooked everything that is straight, and causes everything that stands to turn. What? Should time be gone, and all that is not everlasting be merely a lie? To think this causes whirling and dizziness to human bones and even vomiting to the stomach: indeed, the turning disease I call it, to conjecture such things. Evil I call it and misanthropic: all this teaching of the one and the plenum and the unmoved and the sated and the everlasting! All that is everlasting - that is merely a parable! And the poets lie too much. But the best parables should speak about time and becoming: they should be praise and justification of all that is not everlasting! Creating-thatisthegreatredemptionfromsuffering,andlife'sbecoming light. But in order for the creator to be, suffering is needed and much transformation. Indeed, much bitter dying must be in your life, you creators! Therefore you are advocates and justifiers of all that is not everlasting. In order for the creator himself to be the child who is newly born, he must also want to be the birth-giver and the pain of giving birth. Indeed, through a hundred souls I went my way and through a hundred cradles and pangs of birth. Many a farewell have I taken already; I know the heartbreaking final hours. Butthusmycreating will wills it, my destiny. Or, to tell it more honestly to you: just such a destiny - my will wills. Everything that feels, suffers in me and is in prison; but my will always comes to me as my liberator and bringer of joy. Willing liberates: that is the true teaching of will and liberty - thus Zarathustra teaches it. No more willing and no more esteeming and no more creating! Oh, if only this great weariness would always keep away from me!"}
{"text": "Even in knowing I feel only my will's lust to beget and to become; and if there is innocence in my knowledge, then this happens because the will to beget is in it."}
{"text": "And once Zarathustra gave a sign to his disciples and spoke these words to them: 'Here are priests, and though they are my enemies, go quietly past them and with sleeping swords! Among them too there are heroes; many of them suffered too much, so they want to make others suffer."}
{"text": "They are evil enemies: nothing is more vengeful than their humility. And whoever attacks them is easily besmirched. But my blood is related to theirs, and I want to know that my blood is honored even in theirs.' And when they had passed by Zarathustra was seized by pain; and not long had he wrestled with his pain when he rose and began to speak thus: 'I feel for these priests. And though I also find them distasteful, that is the least of my concerns since I have been among human beings. But I suffer and suffered with them; to me they are prisoners and marked men. The one they call redeemer clapped them in irons: - In irons of false values and words of delusion! Oh that someone would yet redeem them from their redeemer! Once they believed they landed on an island as the sea tossed them around; but see, it was a sleeping monster! False values and words of delusion: these are the worst monsters for mortals - long does doom sleep and wait in them. But at last it comes and wakes and devours and gulps whatever built itself huts upon it. Oh look at these huts that the priests built themselves! Churches they call their sweet smelling caves. Oh how repulsive is this falsified light, this stale air! Here, where the soul to its height - is denied flight! Instead their faith commands: 'Up the stairs on your knees, you sinners!' Indeed, I would rather see the shameless than the rolled back eyes of their shame and devotion! Who created such caves and stairs of penitence? Were they not those who wanted to hide and were ashamed beneath the pure sky? And only when the pure sky peeks again through broken ceilings and down upon grass and red poppy and broken walls - only then will I turn my heart again to the sites of this God. They called God what contradicted and hurt them, and truly, there was much heroics in their adoration! And they knew no other way to love their God than to nail the human being to a cross! They intended to live as corpses, they decked out their corpse in black; from their speeches I still smell the rotten spice of death chambers."}
{"text": "Withthunderandheavenlyfireworksonemustspeaktoslackandsleeping senses. But the voice of beauty speaks softly; it creeps only into the most awakened souls. Softly today my shield trembled and laughed; it is the holy laughter and trembling of beauty. At you, virtuous ones, my beauty laughed today. And thus its voice came to me: 'They still want - to be paid!' You still want to be paid, you virtuous! Want to have reward for virtue, and heaven for earth, and eternity for your today? And now you're angry with me for teaching that there is no reward and paymaster? And truly, I do not even teach that virtue is its own reward. Oh, this is my sorrow; reward and punishment have been lied into the ground of things - and now even into the ground of your souls, you virtuous! But like the snout of a boar my words shall tear open the ground of your souls; a plowshare I shall be to you. All the secrets of your ground shall be brought to light; and when you lie uprooted and broken in the sun, your lie also will be separated from your truth. For this is your truth: you are too pure for the filth of the words revenge, punishment, reward, retribution. Youloveyour virtue as the mother her child; but when did anyone ever hear that a mother wanted to be paid for her love? Your virtue is your dearest self. The ring's thirst is in you; every ring struggles and turns to reach itself again. And each work of your virtue is like the star that dies out; always its light is still on its way and wandering - and when will it no longer be on its way? Thus the light of your virtue is still underway, even when the work is done. And even if now forgotten and dead, its ray of light still lives and wanders. Yourvirtueshouldbeyourselfandnotaforeignthing,askin,acloaking: that is the truth from the ground of your soul, you virtuous! - But surely there are those who equate virtue with spasm under a whip, and you have listened too much to their cries!"}
{"text": "And in this manner almost all believe they have a share of virtue; and at the very least each person wants to be an expert on 'good' and 'evil.' But Zarathustra has not come to say to all these liars and fools: 'What do you know about virtue! What could you know about virtue!' - Instead, my friends, I wish you would grow weary of the old words you have learned from the fools and liars: Grow weary of the words 'reward,' 'retribution,' 'punishment,' 'revenge in justice' - Grow weary of saying: 'What makes a deed good is that it is selfless.' Oh my friends! I wish your self were in the deed like the mother is in the child: let that be your word on virtue! Indeed, I may have taken from you a hundred words and your virtue's favorite toys; and now you are angry with me as children become angry. They played by the sea - then the wave came and tore their toys into the deep: now they weep. But the same wave shall bring them new toys and lavish new colorful shells before them! Thus will they be consoled; and like them you, too, my friends shall have your consolations - and new colorful shells! - Thus spoke Zarathustra."}
{"text": "Life is a well of joy; but where the rabble also drinks, there all wells are poisoned. I appreciate all that is clean; but I do not like to see the grinning snouts and the thirst of the unclean. They cast their eyes down into the well; now their disgusting smile reflects back up to me from the well. They have poisoned the holy water with their lustfulness; and when they called their filthy dreams joy, they poisoned even words. Theflameshrinks when they put their dank hearts on the fire; the spirit itself seethes and smokes wherever the rabble approaches the fire. In their hands fruits becomes sickly sweet and overripe; their gaze makes fruit trees prone to windfall and withered at the crown. Andsomewhoturnedawayfromlifeonlyturnedawayfromtherabble, not wanting to share well and flame and fruit with the rabble."}
{"text": "My heart, upon which my summer burns, the brief, hot, melancholy, superblissful summer; how my summer heart yearns for your coolness! Gone the hesitating gloom of my spring! Gone the malice of my snowflakes in June! I have become summer and summer noon entirely! Asummer in the highest regions with cold springs and blissful silence: Oh come, my friends, and let the silence become even more blissful! For it is our height and our homeland; too high and steep we live here for all the unclean and their thirst. Cast your pure eyes into the wellspring of my joy, you friends! How could it become murky from that! It shall laugh back at you with its purity. We build our nest in the tree called future; eagles shall bring us solitary ones food in their beaks! Truly, no food in which the unclean are allowed to share! They would think they were devouring fire and burn their snouts! Truly, we keep no homesteads ready here for the unclean! To their bodies and to their minds our happiness would seem a cave of ice! And like strong winds we want to live above them, neighbors to eagles, neighbors to snow, neighbors to the sun: thus live strong winds. And some day I want to blow among them like a wind and steal their breath away with my spirit: thus my future wills it. Indeed, Zarathustra is a strong wind to all lowlands; and this counsel he gives to his enemies and to everything that spits and spews: 'Beware of spitting against the wind!' Thus spoke Zarathustra."}
{"text": "Lookhere,thisis the hole of the tarantula! Do you want to see the tarantula itself? Its web hangs here; touch it, make it tremble. Here it comes, willingly - welcome, tarantula! On your back your triangle and mark sits in black; and I know too what sits in your soul. Revenge sits in your soul: wherever you bite, there black scabs grow; your poison makes the soul whirl with revenge! So I speak to you in parables, you who cause the souls to whirl, you preachers of equality ! Tarantulas you are to me and hidden avengers! But I want to expose your hiding places to the light; therefore I laugh into your face my laughter of the heights."}
{"text": "They speak in favor of life, these poisonous spiders, even though they are sitting in their holes and have turned against life, because they want to do harm. They want to harm those who hold power today, for among them the sermon on death is still most at home. If it were otherwise, then the tarantulas would teach otherwise; and they after all were formerly the best world slanderers and burners of heretics. I do not want to be mixed in with and mistaken for these preachers of equality. For thus justice speaks to me : 'humans are not equal.' And they shouldn't become so either! What would my love for the overman be if I spoke otherwise? On a thousand bridges and paths they shall throng to the future, and ever more war and inequality shall be set between them: thus my great love commands me to speak! Inventors of images and ghosts shall they become in their hostility, and with their images and ghosts they shall yet fight the highest fight against each other! Good and evil, and rich and poor, and high and trifling, and all the names of values: they shall be weapons and clanging signs that life must overcome itself again and again! Life itself wants to build itself into the heights with pillars and steps; it wants to gaze into vast distances and out upon halcyon beauties therefore it needs height! And because it needs height, it needs steps and contradiction between steps and climbers! Life wants to climb and to overcome itself by climbing. Andlookhere, my friends! Here, where the tarantula's hole is, the ruins of an ancient temple are rising - look here now with enlightened eyes! Indeed, the one who once heaped his thoughts skyward here in stone - he knew the secret of all life like the most wise! That struggle and inequality and war for power and supremacy are found even in beauty: he teaches us that here in the clearest parable. How divinely the vault and the arch bend and break each other as they wrestle; how they struggle against each other with light and shadow, these divinely struggling ones - In this manner sure and beautiful let us also be enemies, my friends! Divinely let us struggle against each other! Alas! Then the tarantula bit me, my old enemy! Divinely sure and beautiful it bit me on the finger! Thus Spoke Zarathustra"}
{"text": "Oh, before I would learn to believe in your 'truthfulness' you would first have to break your revering will. Truthful - thus I call the one who goes into godless deserts and has broken his revering heart. In the yellow sand and burned by the sun he may squint thirstily at islands rich with springs, where living things rest beneath dark trees. But his thirst does not persuade him to become the same as these comfortable ones; for where there are oases, there are idols as well. Hungry, violent, lonely, godless; thus the lion-will wants itself. Free from the happiness of the servant, redeemed of gods and adorations, fearless and fearsome, great and lonely; thus is the will of the truthful. In the desert the truthful have always dwelled, the free spirits, as the rulers of the desert; but in the cities dwell the well-fed, famous wise men - the draft animals. For they, as asses, always pull - the people's cart! Not that I am angry with them for it; but to me they remain servants and harnessed, even if they gleam in golden harnesses. Andoften they were good servants and praiseworthy. For virtue speaks thus: 'If you must serve, then seek the one who benefits most from your service! The spirit and virtue of your master shall grow from your being his servant; thus you yourself grow with his spirit and his virtue!' And truly, you famous wise men, you servants of the people! You yourselves grew with the people's spirit and virtue - and the people through you! I say this in your honor! But to me you remain the people even in your virtues, the people with stupid eyes - the people who don't know what spirit is! Spirit is life that itself cuts into life; by its own agony it increases its own knowledge - did you know that? And the happiness of spirit is this: to be anointed and consecrated by tears to serve as a sacrificial animal - did you know that? And the blindness of the blind, and his seeking and probing shall yet testify to the power of the sun into which he gazed - did you know that? And the seeker of knowledge shall learn to build with mountains! It means little that the spirit moves mountains - did you know that?"}
{"text": "You know only the spark of the spirit, but you do not see the anvil that it is, nor the cruelty of its hammer! Thus Spoke Zarathustra But I live in my own light, I drink back into myself the flames that break out of me. Idonot the know the happiness of receiving; and often I dreamed that stealing must be more blessed than receiving. This is my poverty, that my hand never rests from bestowing; this is my envy, that I see waiting eyes and the illuminated nights of longing. Oh misery of all bestowers! Oh darkening of my sun! Oh craving to crave! Oh ravenous hunger in satiety! They receive from me, but do I still touch their souls? There is a cleft between giving and receiving; and the closest cleft is the last to be bridged. A hunger grows out of my beauty; I wish to harm those for whom I shine, I wish to rob those on whom I have bestowed: - thus I hunger for malice. Withdrawing my hand when a hand already reaches for it; hesitating like the waterfall that hesitates even while plunging - thus I hunger for malice. Myfullness plots such vengeance; such trickery gushes from my loneliness. My happiness in bestowing died in bestowing, my virtue wearied of itself in its superabundance! For one who always bestows, the danger is loss of shame; whoever dispenses always has calloused hands and heart from sheer dispensing. My eye no longer wells up at the shame of those who beg; my hand became too hard for the trembling of filled hands. Where have the tears of my eye and the down of my heart gone? Oh loneliness of all bestowers! Oh muteness of all who shine! Many suns revolve in desolate space. To everything that is dark they speak with their light - to me they are mute. Oh this is the enmity of light toward that which shines; mercilessly it goes its orbit. Unjust in its deepest heart toward that which shines: cold toward suns - thus every sun goes. Like a storm the suns fly their orbit, that is their motion. They follow their inexorable will; that is their coldness."}
{"text": "Ohitis you only, you dark ones, you nocturnal ones, who create warmth out of that which shines! Oh it is you only who drink milk and refreshment from the udders of light!"}
{"text": "Alas, ice surrounds me, my hand burns itself on iciness! Alas, there is, Second Part = . thirst in me that yearns for your thirst!, Second Part = . It is night: alas that I must be light! And thirst for the nocturnal! And, Second Part = . It is night: now my longing breaks out of me like a well - I long to, Second Part = . speak., Second Part = . It is night: now all fountains speak more loudly. And my soul too is a, Second Part = . fountain., Second Part = . too is the song of a lover., Second Part = . The Dance Song, Second Part = . and as he searched for a well, behold, he then came upon a green meadow, Second Part = . that was silently bordered by trees and shrubs; upon it girls danced with, Second Part = . each other. As soon as the girls recognized Zarathustra, they stopped, Second Part = . dancing; but Zarathustra approached them with a friendly gesture and, Second Part = . spoke these words: 'Do not stop dancing, you lovely girls! No spoil sport has come to you, Second Part = . with his evil eye, no enemy of girls., Second Part = . God'sadvocatebeforethedevil am I; but the devil is the spirit of gravity. Howcould I be hostile toward godlike dancing, you light ones? Or toward, Second Part = . girls' feet with pretty ankles?, Second Part = . I may well be a wood and a night of dark trees, yet whoever does, Second Part = . not shrink from my darkness will also find rose slopes under my, Second Part = . cypresses., Second Part = . he lies next to the well, still, with closed eyes., Second Part = . Indeed, he fell asleep in broad daylight, the loafer! Did he chase too, Second Part = . little god a bit! He will probably yell and weep - but he is comical even, Second Part = . when weeping!, Second Part = . And with tears in his eyes he shall ask you for a dance, and I myself will, Second Part = . sing a song to his dance:, Second Part = Thus Spoke Zarathustra"}
{"text": "Adanceandamockingsongtothespiritofgravity,mysupremehighest and most powerful devil, of whom it is said that he is 'the ruler of the world.' ' - Andthisis the song that Zarathustra sang as Cupid and the girls danced together. Into your eye I gazed recently, oh life! And then into the unfathomable I seemed to sink. But you pulled me out with your golden fishing rod; you laughed mockingly when I called you unfathomable. 'Thus sounds the speech of all fish,' you said. 'What they do not fathom, is unfathomable. But I am merely fickle and wild and in all things a woman, and no virtuous one: Whether to you men I am called 'profundity' or 'fidelity,' 'eternity' or 'secrecy.' But you men always bestow on us your own virtues - oh, you virtuous men!' Thus she laughed, the incredible one, but I never believe her and her laughing when she speaks ill of herself. And when I spoke in confidence with my wild wisdom, she said to me angrily: 'You will, you covet, you love, and only therefore do you praise life!' Then I almost answered maliciously and told the angry woman the truth; and one can not answer more maliciously than when one 'tells the truth' to one's wisdom. Thus matters stand between the three of us. At bottom I love only life - and verily, most when I hate it! But that I am fond of wisdom and often too fond; that is because she reminds me so much of life! She has her eyes, her laugh and even her little golden fishing rod - is it my fault that the two look so much alike? And when life once asked me: 'Who is this wisdom anyway?'- I hastened to reply: 'Oh yes! Wisdom! Onethirsts for her and does not become sated, one peeks through veils, one snatches through nets. Is she beautiful? What do I know! But even the oldest carps are baited by her."}
{"text": "She is fickle and stubborn; often I saw her bite her lip and comb her, Second Part = . hair against the grain., Second Part = . Perhaps she is evil and false, and in all things a female; but when she, Second Part = . speaks ill of herself, precisely then she seduces the most.', Second Part = . When I had said this to life she laughed sarcastically and closed her, Second Part = . And even if you are right - does one say that to my face? But now speak, Second Part = . too of your own wisdom!', Second Part = . Oh, and now you opened your eyes again, oh beloved life! And again I, Second Part = . seemed to sink into the unfathomable. -, Second Part = . Thus sang Zarathustra. But when the dance had ended and the girls, Second Part = . departed, he became sad. 'The sun set long ago,' he remarked at last. 'The meadow is moist,, Second Part = . coolness emanates from the woods., Second Part = . Something unknown is around me and it gazes pensively. What - you, Second Part = . are still alive, Zarathustra?, Second Part = . Why? Wherefore? Whereby? Whither? Where? How? Is it not folly to, Second Part = . continue living? -, Second Part = . Alas, my friends, it is the evening whose questions emerge from me., Second Part = . Forgive me my sadness!, Second Part = . Evening came: forgive me that evening came!', Second Part = . Thus spoke Zarathustra., Second Part = . The Grave Song, Second Part = . 'There is the island of graves, the silent one; there too are the graves of, Second Part = . my youth. There I shall carry an evergreen wreath of life.', Second Part = . Ohyouvisions and apparitions of my youth! Oh all you glances of love,, Second Part = . today like my dead., Second Part = . Fromyou,frommydearestdeparted,comesasweetfragrance,releasing, Second Part = . my tears and my heart. Indeed, it shakes and releases the heart of this, Second Part = . lonely seafarer., Second Part = . For I had youonce, and you have me"}
{"text": "still: tell me, for whom did such rosy, Second Part = . apples fall from the tree as for me?, Second Part = Thus Spoke Zarathustra I am still the heir and earth of your love, blossoming in remembrance of you with colorful, wild-growing virtues, oh you most beloved! Indeed, we were made to stay close to each other, you noble, strange wonders; and not like skittish birds did you come to me and to my desire - no, as trusting ones to a trusting one! Yes, made for loyalty, like me, and for tender eternities; I must now refer to you by your disloyalty, you godlike glances and glancing moments, for I've learned no other name yet. Indeed, you died too soon for me, you fugitives. Yet you did not flee me, nor did I flee you: we are mutually innocent in our disloyalty. To kill me they strangled you, you songbirds of my hopes! Yes, at you, my dearest ones, malice always shot its arrows - to strike my heart! And it struck! For you were always closest to my heart, my possession and what possessed me: for that you had to die young and all too early! The arrow was shot at the most vulnerable thing that I possessed; that was you, whose skin is like down and even more like a smile that dies of a glance! But these words I shall speak to my enemies: what is all murder of human beings compared to what you did to me! More evil you did to me than all murder of human beings. You took from me what was irretrievable - thus I speak to you, my enemies! For you murdered my youth's visions and dearest wonders! You took my playmates from me, the blessed spirits! In remembrance of them I lay down this wreath and this curse. This curse against you, my enemies! For you cut my eternity short, like a sound breaks off in cold night! It barely reached me as the flash of godlike eyes - as a glancing moment! Thus at a good hour my purity once spoke to me: 'Godlike shall all beings be to me.' Then you fell upon me with filthy ghosts; alas, where now has that good hour fled? 'All days shall be holy to me' - so spoke the wisdom of my youth, once; truly, the speech of a gay wisdom!"}
{"text": "But then you enemies stole my nights and sold them into sleepless agony; alas, where now has my gay wisdom fled? Once I yearned for happy signs from birds; then you led an owl abomination across my path, a repulsive one. Alas, where then did my tender yearning flee?"}
{"text": "Once I pledged to renounce all nausea; then you transformed those near and nearest me into boils of pus. Alas, where then did my noblest pledge flee? As a blind man I once walked blessed paths; then you tossed filth onto the path of the blind man, and now he is repulsed by the old blind man's footpath. And when I did what was hardest for me and celebrated the victory of my overcomings; then you made those who loved me cry out that I hurt them most. Indeed, that was always your doing; you turned to gall my best honey and the hard work of my best bees. You always dispatched the most impudent beggars to my charity; you always crowded the incurably shameless around my pity. Thus you wounded my virtue in its faith. And when I laid down even what was holiest to me as a sacrifice; instantly your 'piety' placed its fatter gifts on top, such that what was holiest to me choked in the smoke of your fat. And once I wanted to dance as I had never danced before; over and beyond all heavens I wanted to dance. Then you swayed my favorite singer. And then he struck up a horrid, dreadful tune; indeed, he tooted in my ears like a mournful horn! Murderous singer, tool of malice, most innocent one! Already I stood poised for my best dance; then you murdered my enchantment with your tones! Only in dance do I know how to speak the parables of the highest things - and now my highest parable remained unspoken in my limbs! My highest hope remained unspoken and unredeemed! And all the visions and comforts of my youth died. How did I bear it? How did I overturn and overcome such wounds? How did my soul rise again from these graves? Yes, there is something invulnerable, unburiable in me, something that explodes boulders: it is called my will . Silently and unchanged it strides through the years. It wants to walk its course on my feet, my old will; its mind is hearthardened and invulnerable. Invulnerable am I only in the heel. You still live and are the same, most patient one! You have always broken through all graves!"}
{"text": "In you what is unredeemed of my youth lives on; and as life and youth you sit here hoping upon greying ruins of graves. Yes, to me you are still the shatterer of all graves: Hail to you, my will! And only where there are graves are there resurrections. - Thus sang Zarathustra. -"}
{"text": "'Will to truth' you call that which drives you and makes you lustful, you wisest ones? Will to thinkability of all being, that's what I call your will! You first want to make all being thinkable, because you doubt, with proper suspicion, whether it is even thinkable. But for you it shall behave and bend! Thus your will wants it. It shall become smooth and subservient to the spirit, as its mirror and reflection. That is your entire will, you wisest ones, as a will to power; and even when you speak of good and evil and of valuations. You still want to create the world before which you could kneel: this is your ultimate hope and intoxication. The unwise, to be sure, the people - they are like a river on which a skiff floats; valuations are seated in the skiff, solemn and cloaked. Your will and your values you set upon the river of becoming; what the people believe to be good and evil reveals to me an ancient will to power. It was you, you wisest ones, who placed such guests into the skiff and gave them pomp and proud names - you and your dominating will! Now the river carries your skiff along: it has to carry it. It matters little whether the breaking wave foams and angrily opposes the keel! Theriver is not your danger and the end of your good and evil, you wisest ones; but this will itself, the will to power - the unexhausted begetting will of life. But in order that you understand my words on good and evil, I also want to tell you my words on life and on the nature of all that lives. I pursued the living, I walked the greatest and the smallest paths in order to know its nature. With a hundredfold mirror I captured even its glance, when its mouth was closed, so that its eyes could speak to me. And its eyes spoke to me. However, wherever I found the living, there too I heard the speech on obedience. All living is an obeying."}
{"text": "And this is the second thing that I heard: the one who cannot obey himself is commanded. Such is the nature of the living. This however is the third thing that I heard: that commanding is harder than obeying. And not only that the commander bears the burden of all obeyers, and that this burden easily crushes him: - In all commanding it seemed to me there is an experiment and a risk; and always when it commands, the living risks itself in doing so. Indeed, even when it commands itself, even then it must pay for its commanding. It must become the judge and avenger and victim of its own law. How does this happen? I asked myself. What persuades the living to obey and command, and to still practice obedience while commanding? Hear my words, you wisest ones! Check seriously to see whether I crept into the very heart of life and into the roots of its heart! Wherever I found the living, there I found the will to power; and even in the will of the serving I found the will to be master. The weaker is persuaded by its own will to serve the stronger, because it wants to be master over what is still weaker: this is the only pleasure it is incapable of renouncing. And as the smaller gives way to the greater, in order for it to have its pleasure and power over the smallest, so too the greatest gives way, and for the sake of power it risks - life itself. That is the giving-way of the greatest, that it is a risk and a danger and a tossing of dice unto death. And where there are sacrificing and favors and love-looks, there too is the will to be master. Along secret passages the weaker sneaks into the fortress and straight to the heart of the more powerful - and there it steals power. And this secret life itself spoke to me: 'Behold,' it said, 'I am that which must always overcome itself . To be sure, you call it will to beget or drive to a purpose, to something higher, more distant, more manifold: but all this is one, and one secret. I would rather perish than renounce this one thing; and truly, wherever there is decline and the falling of leaves, behold, there life sacrifices itself - for power! That I must be struggle and becoming and purpose and the contradiction of purposes - alas, whoever guesses my will guesses also on what crooked paths it must walk!"}
{"text": "Whatever I may create and however I may love it - soon I must oppose it and my love, thus my will wants it. And even you, seeker of knowledge, are only a path and footstep of my will; indeed, my will to power follows also on the heels of your will to truth! Indeed, the one who shot at truth with the words 'will to existence' did not hit it: this will - does not exist! For, what is not can not will; but what is in existence, how could this still will to exist! Only where life is, is there also will; but not will to life, instead - thus I teach you - will to power! Muchis esteemed more highly by life than life itself; yet out of esteeming itself speaks - the will to power!' - Thus life once taught me, and from this I shall yet solve the riddle of your heart, you wisest ones. Truly, I say to you: good and evil that would be everlasting - there is no such thing! They must overcome themselves out of themselves again and again. You do violence with your values and words of good and evil, you valuators; and this is your hidden love and the gleaming, trembling and flowing-over of your souls. But a stronger force grows out of your values and a new overcoming; upon it egg and eggshell break. And whoever must be a creator in good and evil - truly, he must first be an annihilator and break values. Thus the highest evil belongs to the highest goodness, but this is the creative one. - Let us speak of this, you wisest ones, even if it is bad to do so. Keeping silent is worse; all truths that are kept silent become poisonous. And may everything break that can possibly be broken by our truths! Many a house has yet to be built! Thus spoke Zarathustra."}
{"text": "The bottom of my sea is calm - who would guess that it conceals playful monsters?"}
{"text": "He must also unlearn his hero's will; he shall be elevated, not merely sublime - the ether itself shall elevate him, the will-less one! He subdued monsters, he solved riddles, but he should also solve his own monsters and riddles; he should transform them into heavenly children. As of yet his knowledge has not learned to smile and to be without jealousy; his torrential passion has not yet become calm in its beauty. Indeed, not in satiety shall his yearning keep silent and submerge, but in beauty! Grace belongs to the graciousness of the great-minded. With his arm laid across his head - thus the hero should rest, thus too he should overcome even his resting. But precisely for the hero beauty is the most difficult of all things. Beauty is not be wrested by any violent willing. A little more, a little less: right here this means much, here this means the most. To stand with muscles relaxed and with an unharnessed will: this is most difficult for all of you sublime ones! When power becomes gracious and descends into view: beauty I call such descending. And from no one do I want beauty as I do from just you, you powerful one: let your kindness be your ultimate self-conquest. I know you capable of all evil - therefore from you I want the good. Indeed, I often laughed at the weaklings who believe themselves good because their paws are lame! You shall strive to emulate the virtue of a column; ever more beautiful and delicate it becomes, the higher it rises, but inwardly harder and more resistant. Yes, you sublime one, one day you shall be beautiful and shall hold the mirror up to your own beauty. Then your soul will shudder with divine desires, and even in your vanity there will be adoration! For this is the secret of the soul: only when the hero abandons her, she is approached in dream by - the over-hero. This allusion to the myth of Ariadne and Theseus foreshadows the 'magician's song' in Part , which became one of the Dionysus Dithyrambs . Nietzsche was preparing the manuscript of the Dithyrambs for publication when he became incapacitated after a series of nervous breakdowns in late and early . According to the myth, Ariadne is abandoned by her lover Theseus, Thus spoke Zarathustra."}
{"text": "Too far into the future did I fly; dread fell upon me. And when I looked around, behold! Then time was my only contemporary. Then I fled backward, homeward - with ever greater haste. Thus I came to you, you of the present, and into the land of education. For the first time I brought along eyes for you, and a strong desire; indeed, I came with longing in my heart. But what happened to me? As frightened as I was - I had to laugh! Never had my eyes seen anything so splattered with colors! I laughed and laughed, while my foot still trembled and my heart as well: 'This must be the home of all paint pots!' I said. With fifty blotches painted on your face and limbs, thus you sat there to my amazement, you people of the present! And with fifty mirrors around you, flattering and echoing your play of colors! Indeed, you couldn't wear a better mask, you people of today, than that of your own face! Who could recognize you! Written full with the characters of the past, and even these characters painted over with new characters: thus you have hidden yourselves well from all interpreters of characters! And even if one were to give you a physical examination, who would even believe you have a body? You seem to be baked from colors and paper slips glued together. Motley, all ages and peoples peek from your veils; motley, all customs and beliefs speak from your gestures. and only Dionysus, the demi-god, comes to her ultimate rescue. Nietzsche elevated Ariadne to the symbol of the human soul, Theseus to the symbol of male vanity and all too human (limited) conceptions of the hero, and Dionysus to the role of super-hero ( Uber-Held ). See Adrian Del Caro, 'Symbolizing Philosophy: Ariadne and the Labyrinth,' in Nietzsche: Critical Assessments ( vols.), ed. Daniel W. Conway (London: Routledge, ), vol. , pp. - ; and 'Nietzschean self-transformation and the transformation of the Dionysian,' in Nietzsche, Philosophy and the Arts , ed. Salim Kemal, Ivan Gaskell, and Daniel Conway (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), pp. - ."}
{"text": "Thus Spoke Zarathustra If one were to pull away veil and wrap and color and gesture from you, there would be just enough left over to scare away the crows. Indeed, I myself am the scared crow who once saw you naked and without color; and I flew away when the skeleton beckoned amorously. Iwouldrather be a day laborer in the underworld and among the shades of yore! - Even the underworldly are fatter and fuller than you! This, oh this is bitterness for my bowels, that I can stand you neither naked nor clothed, you people of the present! All uncanniness of the future, and whatever caused flown birds to shudder, is truly homelier and more familiar than your 'reality.' For you speak thus: 'We are real entirely, and without beliefs and superstition.' Thus you stick out your chests - alas, even without chests! Indeed, how should you be capable of believing, you color-splattered ones - you who are paintings of everything that has ever been believed! Rambling refutations of belief itself are you, and the limb-fracturing of every thought. Unbelievable is what I call you, you so-called real ones! All ages prattle against each other in your minds; and the dreams and prattling of all ages were more real than even your waking is! You are sterile: therefore you lack beliefs. But whoever had to create also always had his prophetic dreams and astrological signs - and believed in believing! - You are half-open gates, at which the gravediggers wait. And this is your reality: 'Everything deserves to perish.' Oh how you stand there, you sterile ones, how skinny in the ribs! And some one of you probably realized this on his own. And he spoke: 'Surely some god secretly removed something from me while I slept? Indeed, enough to form himself a little woman from it! Wondrous is the poverty of my ribs!' Thus spoke many a person of the present. Indeed, you make me laugh, you people of the present! And especially when you are amazed at yourselves! Andwoeto me if I couldn't laugh at your amazement, and had to drink down all the repugnant contents of your bowls! So I shall take you more lightly, as I have a heavy burden; and what does it matter to me if beetles and winged worms still land on my bundle?"}
{"text": "Thus Spoke Zarathustra 'For me what is highest' - thus speaks your lying spirit to itself 'would be to look upon life without desire and not like a dog with its tongue hanging out: To be content in viewing, with dead will, without the grasp and greed of selfishness - cold and ashen grey in my whole body, but with drunken mooning eyes! To me the dearest thing would be' - thus the seducer seduces himself - 'to love the earth as the moon loves it, and to touch its beauty only with the eyes. And to me the immaculate perception of all things would be that I desire nothing from things, except that I might lie there before them like a mirror with a hundred eyes.' - Oh you sentimental hypocrites, you lechers! Your desire lacks innocence, and now therefore you slander all desiring! Indeed, you do not love the earth as creators, begetters, and enjoyers of becoming! Where is innocence? Where there is will to beget. And whoever wants to create over and beyond himself, he has the purest will. Where is beauty? Where I must will with my entire will; where I want to love and perish so that an image does not remain merely an image. Loving and perishing: these have gone together since the beginning of time. Will to love: that means being willing also for death. Thus I speak to you cowards! But now your emasculated leering wants to be called 'contemplation!' And whatever allows itself to be touched by cowardly eyes is supposed to be christened 'beautiful!' Oh you besmirchers of noble names! Butthatshall be your curse, you immaculate, you pure-perceiving ones, that you shall never give birth; and even if you lie broad and pregnant on the horizon! Indeed, you take a mouthful of noble words, and we are supposed to believe that your heart is overflowing, you liars? But my words are meager, despised, crooked words; gladly do I pick up what falls beneath the table during your meal. For with them I can still - tell hypocrites the truth! Yes, my fish bones, mussel shells and thorny leaves shall tickle the noses of hypocrites! There is always foul air around you and your meals; after all, your lecherous thoughts, your lies and secrets are in the air!"}
{"text": "Dare for once to believe yourselves - yourselves and your entrails!, Second Part = . Whoever cannot believe himself always lies. Agod's mask you don before yourselves, you 'pure ones.' Into a god's, Second Part = . mask your horrid worm has crawled., Second Part = . Indeed, you deceive, you 'contemplative ones!' Zarathustra too was, Second Part = . once the fool of your godlike skins; he had not discovered the coils of, Second Part = . snakes with which they were stuffed., Second Part = . I once imagined seeing a god's soul playing in your play, you pure, Second Part = . perceivers! Once I imagined no better art than your arts!, Second Part = . The distance concealed snake-filth and foul odor from me, and that the, Second Part = . guile of a lizard lecherously crawled around here., Second Part = . But I came near you: then daylight came to me - and now it comes to, Second Part = . you - the moon's fling is at an end!, Second Part = . Look there! Chagrined and pale he stands there - before the dawn!, Second Part = . coming! Innocence and the creator's desire is all solar love!, Second Part = . Look there, how she glides impatiently across the sea! Do you not feel, Second Part = . her thirst and the hot breath of her love?, Second Part = . Shewouldsuckattheseaanddrinkitsdepthsintoherselfintheheights;, Second Part = . now the sea's desire rises with a thousand breasts., Second Part = . It wants to be kissed and sucked by the thirst of the sun; it wants to, Second Part = . Indeed, like the sun I love life and all deep seas., Second Part = . And this I call perception: all that is deep shall rise - to my height!, Second Part = . Thus spoke Zarathustra., Second Part = . On Scholars, Second Part = . AsIlaysleepingasheepmunchedattheivywreathonmyhead-munched and spoke: 'Zarathustra is no longer a scholar.', Second Part = . Spoke it and walked away, reproving and proud. A child told it to me., Second Part"}
{"text": "= . I like to lie here where the children play, by the crumbling wall, beneath, Second Part = . thistles and red poppies., Second Part = . poppies. They are innocent, even in their spite., Second Part = . But to the sheep I am no longer a scholar, thus my fate wants it - blessed, Second Part = . be it!, Second Part = Thus Spoke Zarathustra For this is the truth: I have moved out of the house of the scholars, and I slammed the door on my way out. Toolongmysoulsathungryattheirtable;unlikethem,Iamnottrained to approach knowledge as if cracking nuts. Ilove freedom and the air over fresh earth; and I would rather sleep on ox hides than on their honors and reputations. I am too hot and burned up by my own thoughts; often it steals my breath away. Then I have to go out into the open and away from all dusty chambers. But they sit cool in their cool shade; in all things they want to be mere spectators and they take care not to sit where the sun burns on the steps. Just like those who stand in the street and gape at the people who pass by; thus too they wait and gape at thoughts that others have thought. When grasped they puff out clouds of dust like sacks of flour, involuntarily; but who would guess that their dust comes from grain and from the yellow bliss of summer fields? Whenthey pose as wise, I am chilled by their little proverbs and truths; often there is an odor to their wisdom, as if it came from the swamp, and truly, I have already heard the frog croaking out of it! Theyareskilled,theyhavecleverfingers;whywould my simplicity want to be near their multiplicity? Their fingers know how to do all manner of threading and knotting and weaving, and thus they knit the stockings of the spirit! Theyaregoodclockworks,onlyonehastoseetoitthattheyareproperly wound! Then they indicate the hour faithfully and make only a modest noise. Like mills and stamps they work; one need only toss them one's grain - they know how to grind down kernels and make white dust out of them!"}
{"text": "Theyaregoodatspying on, and are not the best at trusting one another. Inventive in petty cleverness they lie in wait for those whose knowledge walks on lame feet - they lie in wait like spiders. I have always seen them prepare poison with caution, and always they donned gloves of glass for their fingers. And they also know how to play with loaded dice; and I found them so ardent in their play that they sweated. We are strangers to one another, and their virtues are even more repugnant to me than their falseness and false dice. Thus Spoke Zarathustra The disciple answered: 'I believe in Zarathustra.' But Zarathustra shook his head and smiled. 'Faith does not make me blessed,' he said. 'Especially not faith in me. But supposing that someone said in all earnestness that the poets lie too much: he is right we lie too much. We also know too little and are bad learners, thus we simply have to lie. Andwhoofuspoets has not watered down his wine? Many a poisonous hodgepodge took place in our cellars, much that is indescribable was enacted there. And because we know little, we take a hearty liking to the spiritually impoverished, especially when they are little young women! And we are even keen for those things that little old women tell each other evenings. Within ourselves we call that 'the eternal feminine.' And as if there were a special, secret portal to knowledge that becomes blocked to those who learn something, thus we believe in the people and their 'wisdom.' But this is what all poets believe: that whoever pricks up his ears while lying in the grass or on a lonely slope will divine something about the things that are situated between heaven and earth. And if tender stirrings come to them, then the poets always think that nature herself is in love with them: And she creeps up to their ears to tell them secrets and enamored flatteries, the like of which makes them boastful and bloated before all mortals! Indeed, there are so many things between heaven and earth of which only the poets have dreamed! And especially above the heavens, for all gods are poets' parable, poets' cock and bull! Indeed, always it lifts us up - namely to the kingdom of the clouds; atop these we set our motley bastards and then call them gods and overmen -"}
{"text": "And they are just light enough for these chairs - all these gods and overmen! This chapter takes issue with Goethe and elevates him to the status of supreme poet, but it simultaneously decries the poetic fictions that throughout history sometimes pose as truth. 'The eternal feminine' refers to the conclusion of Faust , where the Chorus Mysticus announces that Faust is saved, he is lifted up to heaven by the eternal feminine ('Das Ewig-Weibliche/ Zieht uns hinan'), which here also includes the blessed Margarete (Gretchen). See also Part , 'The Song of Melancholy,' where truth and poetizing (fiction) are at odds. Defiantly the buffalo looks on, in his soul close to the sand, still closer to the thicket, but closest to the swamp. The references to parable, imperfection, and event are all based on the words of the Chorus Mysticus (see n. ), consisting of only eight lines, in which Goethe argues that ( ) everything not everlasting is merely a parable; ( ) what is imperfect becomes an event here (on earth); ( ) what is indescribable gets done here; and ( ) the eternal feminine lifts us up. Zarathustra expresses his impatience with the glibness of the poets; but observe that he includes the overman among these airy creations."}
{"text": "What does he care of beauty and sea and peacock's finery? This parable I say to the poets. Truly, their spirit itself is this peacock of peacocks and a sea of vanity! The spirit of the poet wants spectators: even if they have to be buffaloes! - But I became weary of this spirit, and I foresee that it will become weary of itself. Transformed I have already seen the poets, and turning their gaze against themselves. I saw ascetics of the spirit approaching; they grew out of the poets.' Thus spoke Zarathustra."}
{"text": "There is an island in the sea - not far from the blessed isles of Zarathustra -onwhich a fiery mountain smokes continually; the people say of it, and especially the little old women among the people say of it, that it was placed like a huge boulder before the gate to the underworld: but through the fiery mountain itself leads the narrow path that winds downward to this gate of the underworld. Now it was around the time that Zarathustra sojourned on the blessed isles that a ship dropped anchor at the island on which the smoking mountain stands, and its crew went ashore to shoot rabbits. Toward the hour of noon, however, as the captain and his people were together again, they suddenly saw a man approaching them through the air, and a voice clearly said: 'It is time! It is high time!' As the figure came closest to them - and it flew past quickly like a shadow in the direction of the fiery mountain - they recognized with the greatest dismay that it was Zarathustra; for all of them had seen him before, except for the captain himself, and they loved him as the people love, with equal parts of love and awe. This story Nietzsche did not make up himself, but as C. G. Jung pointed out in his dissertation of , 'On the Psychology and Pathology of So-called Occult Phenomena,' Nietzsche inadvertently remembered it from his childhood reading of Bl atter aus Prevorst , an 'antiquated collection of simple-minded Swabian ghost stories.' The recollection was triggered by Nietzsche's thought process relating to Zarathustra's trip to hell. 'Cryptoamnesia' or 'hidden memory' is to be distinguished from simple plagiarism because it is caused by the unconscious. See C. G. Jung, Psychiatric Studies in The Collected Works of C. G. Jung , vol. , ed. Sir Herbert Read, Michael Fordham, and Gerhard Adler ( nd edn., Princeton University Press, ), pp. vi, - , - , ."}
{"text": "'Just look!' said the old helmsman, 'there goes Zarathustra off to hell!' - Around the same time that these sailors landed on the fiery island the rumor was circulating that Zarathustra had disappeared; and when people asked his friends, they related how he had departed by ship at night, without saying where he would be traveling. Thus a restlessness arose, but three days later this restlessness was increased by the sailors' story - and now all the people were saying that the devil had fetched Zarathustra. His disciples laughed at this news, to be sure, and one of them even said: 'I would sooner believe that Zarathustra fetched himself the devil.' But at the bottom of their souls all of them were filled with worry and longing, and so their joy was great when on the fifth day Zarathustra appeared among them. Andthis is the story of Zarathustra's conversation with the fire hound. 'The earth,' he said, 'has a skin; and this skin has diseases. One of these diseases for example is called: 'Human being.' And another of these diseases is called 'fire hound'; about him people have told each other many lies and allowed themselves to be lied to much. To fathom this mystery I went over the sea, and I saw the naked truth, indeed, barefoot up to its throat! Now I know what the fire hound is all about, and likewise all the underhanded and overthrowing scum-devils of whom not only little old women are afraid. 'Out with you, fire hound, out of your depth!' I cried, 'and confess how deep is this depth! Where did you get what you are snorting there? You drink deeply from the sea; your salty eloquence betrays that! Really, forahound of the depths you take your nourishment too much from the surface! At best I could regard you as the ventriloquist of the earth; and always when I heard overthrowing and underhanded scum-devils speaking, I found them to be the same as you: salty, lying and superficial. You know how to bellow and to darken with ashes! You are the best big mouths, and you've learned more than enough about bringing mud to a boil."}
{"text": "The 'fire hound' ( Feuerhund )isNietzsche's invention, an unflattering portrait of a fire-breathing, revolutionary spirit of the kind who believes in and foments 'great events' of a political nature. The rabble apparently believe in the existence of this fire hound, and are impressed by its hellish noise. Thus Spoke Zarathustra Wherever you are, there mud always has to be close by, and much that is spongy, pitted, squeezed, and wants to break free. 'Freedom' the lot of you are best at bellowing, but I lose faith in 'great events' as soon as they are surrounded by much bellowing and smoke. Andjust believe me, friend Infernal Racket! The greatest events - these are not our loudest, but our stillest hours. Not around the inventors of new noise does the world revolve, but around the inventors of new values; inaudibly it revolves. And just confess! When your noise and smoke cleared, it was always very little that had happened. What does it matter that a town becomes a mummy and a statue lies in the mud! And these words I say to all overthrowers of statues. Surely it is the greatest folly to throw salt into the sea and statues into the mud. In the mud of your contempt lay the statue, but precisely this is its law, that out of contempt life and living beauty grow back to it! It stands up again with even more godlike features, seductive in its suffering, and truly! It will yet thank you for overthrowing it, you overthrowers! But this advice I give to kings and churches and to all that is feeble with age and feeble in virtue - just let yourselves be overthrown! So that you might come to life again, and to you - virtue!' - Thus I spoke before the fire hound, then it interrupted me sullenly and asked: 'Church? What is that?' 'Church?' I answered, 'that is a kind of state, and in fact the most lying kind. But be silent, you hypocrite hound! You already know your kind best! Like you yourself the state is a hypocrite hound; like you it likes to speak with smoke and bellowing - to make believe, like you, that it speaks from the belly of things."}
{"text": "For it wants absolutely to be the most important animal on earth, this state; and people believe it, too.' - When I finished saying this the fire hound behaved as though out of his mind with envy. 'What?' it shouted, 'the most important animal on earth? And they believe it too?' And then so much steam and so many horrid voices emanated from his throat that I thought he would choke to death from anger and envy. At last he grew calmer and his panting let up; but as soon as he was calm I said laughing: The Wanderer and His Shadow is the last volume of Human, All Too Human , published by Nietzsche in . The wanderer appears in TSZ Part as one of the 'higher human beings.' Thus Spoke Zarathustra We harvested well, but why did all our fruits turn foul and brown? What fell down from the evil moon last night? All work was for naught, our wine has become poison, the evil eye seared yellow our fields and hearts. All of us became dry, and if fire were to touch us, then we would turn to dust like ashes - yes, fire itself we have made weary. All our wells dried up, even the sea retreated. All firm ground wants to crack, but the depths do not want to devour! 'Oh where is there still a sea in which one could drown?' - thus rings our lament - out across the shallow swamps. Indeed, we have already become too weary to die; now we continue to wake and we live on - in burial chambers!' - Thus Zarathustra heard a soothsayer speaking; and his prophecy went straight to his heart and transformed him. Sadly he went about and weary; and he became like those of whom the soothsayer had spoken. 'Indeed,' thus he spoke to his disciples, 'it lacks but little and this long twilight will come. Alas, how shall I rescue my light to the other side! It must not suffocate in this sadness! It shall be light to more distant worlds and most distant nights!'"}
{"text": "Grieving thus in his heart Zarathustra walked about; and for three days he took no drink and no food, had no rest and lost his speech. At last it came to pass that he fell into a deep sleep. But his disciplines sat around him on long night watches and they waited anxiously for him to wake and speak again, and recover from his melancholy. This, however, is the speech that Zarathustra spoke when he awoke; but his voice came to his disciples as if from far away. 'HearthisdreamthatIdreamed,myfriends,andhelpmetounderstand its meaning! It is still an enigma to me, this dream; its meaning is hidden in it and locked away and it does not yet fly above it on free wings. I had renounced all life, thus I dreamed. I had become a night watchman and guardian of graves, there on the lonely mountain fortress of death. Up there I guarded his coffins; the musty vaults stood full of such symbols of conquest. From glass coffins, conquered life looked out at me. I breathed the odor of eternities turned to dust; my soul lay clammy and dusty, and who could have aired his soul in such a place! The brightness of midnight was about me always, loneliness crouched beside her, and thirdly, death-rattle silence, the worst of my three lady friends. I carried keys, the rustiest of all keys; and with them I knew how to open the creakiest of all gates. Like a bitterly evil croaking the sound penetrated through the long corridors as the gate's wings swung open; hideously this bird screeched, defiant in being awakened. But even more terrible and heart-constricting was the silence that set in around me when the gate fell quiet, and I sat alone in this treacherous silence. Thus the time passed and crept by me, if time existed anymore - what do I know! But at last something happened that awakened me. Three times there were blows at the door, like thundering, and the vaults echoed and howled three times in return; then I went to the gate. 'Alpa!' I cried. 'Who bears his ashes to the mountain? Alpa! Alpa! Who bears his ashes to the mountain?' And I pressed the key and lifted on the gate and strained. But it would not open even the width of a finger:"}
{"text": "Thenaroaring wind tore its wings apart; whistling, shrilling and whipping it threw down a black coffin before me: And amidst the roaring and whistling and shrilling the coffin burst open and spewed forth thousandfold laughter. And it laughed and mocked and roared against me from a thousand grimacesofchildren,angels,owls,foolsandbutterfliesthesizeofchildren. I was horribly frightened; it threw me to the ground. And I cried out in terror as I have never cried before. But my own cries awakened me - and I came to. -' Thus Zarathustra related his dream and then he was silent, for he did not yet know the interpretation of his dream. But the disciple whom he loved most quickly stood up, took hold of Zarathustra's hand and said: Nietzsche is here using material from a dream he had. He explained the dream to his friend Reinhart von Seydlitz in , and mention of 'Alpa' shows up in the unpublished notes of summer . See Kritische Studienausgabe : . In his dream, Nietzsche was nearing the top of a seemingly endless mountain path when he passed a cave, out of which a mysterious voice cried: 'Alpa, Alpa - who carries his ashes to the mountains?' German Alptraum , or nightmare, is based on der Alp , which according to superstition is a ghost that crouches on the chest of the dreamer and causes bad dreams by pressuring or suffocating."}
{"text": "'Your life itself interprets this dream for us, oh Zarathustra! Are you yourself not the wind with its shrill whistling, that tears open the gates of the fortresses of death? Are you yourself not the coffin full of colorful sarcasms and the angelic grimaces of life? Indeed,likethousandfoldchildren'slaughterZarathustracomesintoall burial chambers, laughing at these night watchmen and grave guardians, and whoever else rattles about with dingy keys. You will frighten and lay them low with your laughter; your power over them will be proven by their swooning and awakening. And even if the long twilight comes and the weariness unto death, you will not set in our sky, you advocate of life! You allowed us to see new stars and new splendors of the night; indeed, you spanned laughter itself above us like a colorful tent. Children's laughter will well up from coffins from now on; a strong wind will come triumphantly to all weariness unto death from now on: of this you yourself are our guarantor and soothsayer! Indeed, you yourself dreamed them ,your enemies: that was your hardest dream! But as you awakened from them and came to yourself, thus shall they awaken from themselves - and come to you!' - Thus spoke the disciple, and all the others now crowded around Zarathustra and took him by the hands and wanted to persuade him to abandon his bed and his sadness and to return to them. But Zarathustra sat upright on his bed and with a strange look. Like someone who returns home from long sojourns abroad, he gazed at his disciples and examined their faces; and still he did not recognize them. But as they lifted him and helpedhimtohisfeet,behold,allatoncehiseyestransformed;hecomprehended all that had happened, stroked his beard and said in a strong voice: 'Well then! This has its time; but for now see to it, my disciples, that we prepare a good meal, and quickly! Thus I plan to do penance for bad dreams! But the soothsayer shall eat and drink beside me; and truly, I will yet show him a sea in which he can drown!'"}
{"text": "Thus spoke Zarathustra. Then, however, he gazed long into the face of the disciple who had served as the dream interpreter, and he shook his head. - Second Part"}
{"text": "As Zarathustra crossed over the great bridge one day, the cripples and the beggars surrounded him and a hunchback spoke thus to him: 'Behold, Zarathustra! The people too learn from you and are gaining faith in your teaching; but in order to believe you completely, they need one more thing - you must first persuade us cripples! Here you have a fine selection and truly, an opportunity with more than one scruff ! You can heal the blind and make the lame walk; and for the one who has too much behind him, you could surely take a bit away - that, I believe, would be the right way to make the cripples believe in Zarathustra!' Zarathustra, however, responded to the speaker thus: 'If one takes the hump from the hunchback, then one takes his spirit too - thus teach the people. And if one gives the blind man his eyesight, then he sees too many bad things on earth, such that he curses the one who healed him. But the one who makes the lame walk causes him the greatest harm, for scarcely does he begin to walk when his vices run away with him - thus teach the people about cripples. And why should Zarathustra not learn also from the people, if the people learn from Zarathustra? But it is the least thing to me, since I have been among human beings, when I see 'This one is missing an eye and That one an ear and the Third onealeg, and there are Others who lost their tongue or their nose or their head.' I see and have seen worse, and some of it so hideous that I do not want to speak of everything, and of a few things I do not even want to remain silent; namely human beings who were missing everything except the one thing they have too much of - human beings who are nothing more than one big eye, or one big maw or one big belly or some other big thing inverse cripples I call such types."}
{"text": "And as I came out of my solitude and crossed over this bridge the first time, then I didn't believe my eyes and I looked and I looked again and said at last: 'That is an ear! An ear as big as a person!' And I looked more closely, and really, beneath the ear something was moving that was pitifully small and pathetic and thin. And, in truth, the gigantic ear sat upon a little slender stalk - but the stalk was a human being! If one used a magnifying glass one could even recognize a tiny, envious miniature face; even a bloated little soul dangling on the stalk. But the people told me that the big ear was not only a human being, but a great human being,"}
{"text": "a genius. But I have never believed the people when they speak of great human beings - and I maintained my belief that it was an inverse cripple who had too little of everything and too much of one thing.' When Zarathustra had spoken thus to the hunchback and to those for whomhehad served as mouthpiece and advocate, he turned deeply upset to his disciples and said: 'Truly,myfriends,Iwalkamonghumanbeingsasamongthefragments and limbs of human beings! This is what is most frightening to my eyes, that I find mankind in ruins and scattered about as if on a battle field or a butcher field. And if my gaze flees from the now to the past; it always finds the same: fragments and limbs and grisly accidents - but no human beings! The now and the past on earth - alas, my friends - that is what is most unbearable to me . And I would not know how to live if I were not also a seer of that which must come. A seer, a willer, a creator, a future himself and a bridge to the future and alas, at the same time a cripple at this bridge: all that is Zarathustra. And you too asked yourselves often: 'Who is Zarathustra to us? How shall he be known to us?' And like me you gave yourselves questions for answers. Is he a promiser? Or a fulfiller? A conqueror? Or an inheritor? An autumn? Or a plow? A physician? Or a convalescent? Is he a poet? Or a truthful man? A liberator? Or a tamer? A good man? Or an evil man? I walk among human beings as among the fragments of the future; that future that I see. And all my creating and striving amounts to this, that I create and piece together into one, what is now fragment and riddle and grisly accident. And how could I bear to be a human being if mankind were not also creator and solver of riddles and redeemer of accident? To redeem those who are the past and to recreate all 'it was' into 'thus I willed it!' - only that would I call redemption!"}
{"text": "Will - thus the liberator and joy bringer is called; thus I taught you, my friends! And now learn this in addition: the will itself is still a prisoner. Willing liberates, but what is that called, which claps even the liberator in chains? Second Part 'It was': thus is called the will's gnashing of teeth and loneliest misery. Impotent against that which has been - it is an angry spectator of everything past. The will cannot will backward; that it cannot break time and time's greed - that is the will's loneliest misery. Willing liberates; what does willing plan in order to rid itself of its misery and mock its dungeon? Alas, every prisoner becomes a fool! Foolishly as well the imprisoned will redeems itself. That time does not run backward, that is its wrath. 'That which was' - thus the stone is called, which it cannot roll aside. And so it rolls stones around out of wrath and annoyance, and wreaks revenge on that which does not feel wrath and annoyance as it does. Thus the will, the liberator, became a doer of harm; and on everything that is capable of suffering it avenges itself for not being able to go back. This, yes this alone is revenge itself: the will's unwillingness toward time and time's 'it was.' Indeed, a great folly lives in our will; and it became the curse of all humankind that this folly acquired spirit! The spirit of revenge : my friends, that so far has been what mankind contemplate best; and wherever there was suffering, punishment was always supposed to be there as well. For 'punishment' is what revenge calls itself; with a lying word it hypocritically asserts its good conscience. And because in willing itself there is suffering, based on its inability to will backward - thus all willing itself and all living is supposed to be punishment! Andnowclouduponcloudrolledinoverthespirit,untilatlastmadness preached: 'Everything passes away, therefore everything deserves to pass away! And this itself is justice, this law of time that it must devour its own children' - thus preached madness."}
{"text": "'All things are ordained ethically according to justice and punishment. Alas,whereisredemptionfromthefluxofthingsandfromthepunishment called existence?' Thus preached madness. Thus Spoke Zarathustra 'Can there be redemption, if there is eternal justice? Alas, the stone 'it was' is unmoveable; all punishments too must be eternal!' Thus preached madness. 'No deed can be annihilated; how could it be undone through punishment? This, this is what is eternal about the punishment called existence, that existence must also eternally be deed and guilt again! Unless the will were to finally redeem itself and willing became notwilling - '; but my brothers, you know this fable song of madness! Away from these fable songs I steered you when I taught you: 'The will is a creator.' All 'it was' is a fragment, a riddle, a grisly accident - until the creating will says to it: 'But I will it thus! I shall will it thus!' But has it ever spoken thus? And when will this happen? Is the will already unharnessed from its own folly? Has the will already become its own redeemer and joy bringer? Has it unlearned the spirit of revenge and all gnashing of teeth? And who taught it reconciliation with time, and what is higher than any reconciliation? That will which is the will to power must will something higher than any reconciliation - buthow shall this happen? Who would teach it to also will backward?' - But at this point in his speech Zarathustra suddenly broke off and looked entirely like one who is appalled in the extreme. Appalled he looked at his disciples, his eyes penetrated their thoughts and their secret thoughts as if with arrows. But after a little while he laughed again and said, more calmly: 'It's difficult to live with people because keeping silent is so hard. Especially for someone who is talkative.' - Thus spoke Zarathustra. The hunchback meanwhile had listened to the conversation with his face covered, but when he heard Zarathustra laugh he looked up inquisitively and slowly said: 'But why does Zarathustra speak otherwise to us than to his disciples?' Zarathustra answered: 'What's to wonder about in that! One is allowed to speak hunched with hunchbacks!'"}
{"text": "'Good,' said the hunchback, 'and with pupils one may tell tales out of school. But why does Zarathustra speak otherwise to his pupils - than to himself?' -"}
{"text": "On Human Prudence, 1 = On Human Prudence. Not the height: the precipice is what is terrible! The precipice, where one's gaze plunges downward, 1 = . and one's hand grasps upward . There the heart is dizzy from its double will., 1 = . Oh my friends, can you guess even my heart's double will?, 1 = . my, 1 = . This, this is precipice and my danger, that my gaze plunges into the, 1 = . heights and that my hand must hold to and support itself - on the depths!, 1 = . My will clings to mankind, I bind myself with chains to mankind, 1 = . because I am drawn upward to the overman; for there my other will wills, 1 = . me., 1 = . And for this I live blind among people, just as if I did not know them:, 1 = . so that my hand does not entirely lose its faith in the firm. I do not know you human beings; this darkness and solace are often, 1 = . spread around me., 1 = . I sit at the gateway for every rogue and ask: who wants to deceive me?, 1 = . in order to not be on the lookout for deceivers., 1 = . Indeed, if I were on the lookout for mankind, how could mankind be, 1 = . an anchor to my ball? Too easily I would be swept up and away! This providence lies over my destiny, that I cannot be provident. And whoever would not die of thirst among human beings must learn, 1 = . to drink from all glasses; and whoever would remain clean among human, 1 = . beings must understand how to wash himself even with dirty water., 1 = . And thus I often spoke to comfort myself: 'Well then! Cheer up, old, 1 = . heart! One misfortune failed you; enjoy this as your - fortune!', 1 = . But this is my other human prudence: I spare the vain more than the, 1 = . proud., 1 = . Is wounded vanity not the mother of all tragedies? But where pride is, 1 = . wounded, there something even better than pride grows. For life to be a proper spectacle, its play must be well-played; but for, 1 = . this good play actors are needed."}
{"text": "I found all vain people to be good actors; they play and want to be, 1 = . spectacular - all their spirit is focused in this willing. They perform themselves, they invent themselves; in their proximity, 1 = . I love to be a spectator of life - it heals me of my melancholy. Therefore I spare the vain, because they are physicians for my melan-, 1 = . choly and keep me riveted to people as if to a play., 1 = Thus Spoke Zarathustra And at last I answered defiantly: 'Indeed, I know it, but I do not want to speak it!' Then it spoke to me again without voice: 'You do not want to, Zarathustra? Is this even true? Do not hide in your defiance!' - And I wept and trembled like a child and spoke: 'Oh, I wanted to, yes, but how can I? Spare me this one thing! It is beyond my strength!' Then it spoke to me again without voice: 'What do you matter, Zarathustra? Speak your word and break!' - And I answered: 'Alas, is it my word? Who am I? I am waiting for one more worthy; I am not worthy even of breaking under it.' Then it spoke to me again without voice: 'What do you matter? You are not yet humble enough for me. Humility has the toughest hide.' - And I answered: 'What has the hide of my humility not borne already! I dwell at the foot of my height; how high are my peaks? No one yet has told me. But well do I know my valleys.' Then it spoke to me again without voice: 'Oh Zarathustra, whoever has mountains to move must also move valleys and hollows.' - And I answered: 'As of yet my words have moved no mountains, and what I spoke did not reach mankind. I went to human beings, to be sure, but I have not yet arrived among them.' Then it spoke to me again without voice: 'What do you know of that ! The dew lands on the grass when the night is most silent.' - And I answered: 'They mocked me when I found and walked my own way; and in truth my feet trembled at that time."}
{"text": "And thus they spoke to me: 'You have forgotten the way, and now you are forgetting how to walk too!'' Then it spoke to me again without voice: 'What does their mockery matter! You are one who has forgotten how to obey; now you shall command! Do you not know who is needed most by everyone? The one who commands great things. To accomplish great things is difficult; but what is even more difficult is to command great things. That is what is most unforgivable in you: you have the power, and you do not want to rule.' - And I answered: 'I lack the lion's voice for all commanding.'"}
{"text": "You look upward when you long for elevation. And I look down because I am elevated. Who among you can laugh and be elevated at the same time? Whoever climbs the highest mountain laughs at all tragic plays and tragic realities. Zarathustra , 'On Reading and Writing,' ( , p. )."}
{"text": "It was around midnight that Zarathustra started his route over the ridge of the island, in order to arrive at the other coast by early morning; for there he intended to board a ship. At that location there was safe harborage where even foreign ships liked to anchor; these would take the occasional passenger who wanted to cross the sea from the blessed isles. Now as Zarathustra climbed up the mountain he thought as he traveled about his many lonely wanderings since the time of his youth, and about how many mountains and ridges and peaks he had already climbed. I am a wanderer and a mountain climber, he said to his heart. I do not like the plains and it seems I cannot sit still for long. And whatever may come to me now as destiny and experience - it will involve wandering and mountain climbing: ultimately one experiences only oneself. The time has passed in which accidents could still befall me, and what could fall to me now that is not already my own? It merely returns, it finally comes home to me - my own self and everything in it that has long been abroad and scattered among all things and accidents. AndIknowonemorething: I am standing now before my last peak and before what has been saved for me for the longest time. Indeed, I must start my hardest path! Indeed, I have begun my loneliest hike! But whoever is of my kind does not escape such an hour, the hour that speaks to him: 'Only now do you go your way of greatness! Peak and abyss - they are now merged as one! You go your way of greatness; now what was formerly your ultimate danger has become your ultimate refuge! You go your way of greatness; now it must be your best courage that there is no longer a way behind you! Yougoyour way of greatness; here no one shall sneak along after you! Your foot itself erased the path behind you, and above it stands written: impossibility. And if now all ladders should fail, then you must know how to climb on your own head - how else would you climb upward? On your own head and over and beyond your own heart! Now what is mildest in you must become hardest."}
{"text": "Whoever has always spared himself much gets sick in the end from so much coddling. Praised be whatever makes hard! I do not praise the land where butter and honey flow! It is necessary to look away from oneself in order to see much : this hardness is needed by every mountain climber. But whoever is importunate with his eyes as a seeker of knowledge how could he see more of things than their foregrounds? But you, Zarathustra, you wanted to see the ground and background of all things, and so you must climb over yourself - up, upward, until you have even your stars beneath you!' Yes, look down on myself and even on my stars: only that would I call my peak , that remains to me as my ultimate peak! - Thus Zarathustra spoke to himself as he climbed, comforting his heart with hard sayings, for he was sore in his heart as never before. And as he came to the top of the mountain ridge, behold, there lay the other sea stretching before him, and he stood still and silent for a long time. But at this altitude the night was cold and clear and bright with stars. I recognize my lot, he said at last, with sorrow. Well then! I am ready. Just now my ultimate solitude began. Oh this black sad sea beneath me! Oh this pregnant nocturnal moroseness! Oh destiny and sea - now I must descend to you! I stand before my highest mountains and before my longest hike: therefore I must descend deeper than I ever climbed before: - descend deeper into suffering than I ever climbed before, down into its blackest flood! My destiny wills it so: Well then! I am ready. Wheredidthehighest mountains come from? Thus I once asked. Then I learned that they come from the sea. This testimony is written into their stone and onto the walls of their peaks. From the deepest the highest must come into its height. - Thus spoke Zarathustra at the pinnacle of the mountain, where it was cold. But as he came near to the sea and stood at last alone among the cliffs, then he had grown weary from his travels and felt even greater longing than before. Everything is still sleeping, he said; even the sea sleeps. Drunk with sleep and strangely it looks at me. But it breathes warmly, that I feel. And I also feel that it is dreaming. Dreaming it tosses on hard pillows. Thus Spoke Zarathustra"}
{"text": "To you, bold searchers, researchers, and whoever put to terrible seas with cunning sails - to you, the riddle-drunk, the twilight-happy whose souls are lured by flutes to every maelstrom: -because you do not want to probe along a thread with cowardly hands; and because where you can guess , there you hate to deduce - to you alone I tell the riddle that I saw - the vision of the loneliest one. Darkly I walked recently through cadaver-colored twilight - darkly and hard, biting my lip. Not only one sun had set for me. A path that climbed defiantly through boulders, a malicious, lonely path consoled neither by weed nor shrub - a mountain path crunched under the defiance of my foot. Striding mutely over the mocking clatter of pebbles, crushing the rock that caused it to slip; thus my foot forced its way upward. Upward - in defiance of the spirit that pulled it downward, the spirit of gravity, my devil and arch-enemy. Upward - even though he sat atop me, half dwarf, half mole, lame, paralyzing, dripping lead into my ear, lead-drop thoughts into my brain. 'Oh Zarathustra,' he murmured scornfully, syllable by syllable. 'You stone of wisdom! You hurled yourself high, but every hurled stone must fall! OhZarathustra, you stone of wisdom, you sling stone, you star crusher! You hurled yourself so high - but every hurled stone - must fall! Sentenced to yourself and to your own stoning; oh Zarathustra, far indeed you hurled the stone - but it will fall back down upon you !' Then the dwarf became silent, and that lasted a long time. But his silence oppressed me, and being at two in such a way truly makes one lonelier than being at one! I climbed, I climbed, I dreamed, I thought - but everything oppressed me. I resembled a sick person whose severe agonies make him"}
{"text": "Euch, den k uhnen Suchern, Versuchern . . . When the prefix veris added to suchen , to seek or to search, the verb is modified to mean try, attempt, but also tempt, so that the noun Versucher means both one who attempts and one who tempts. The noun der Versuch , meanwhile, means both attempt and experiment. Nietzsche frequently alludes to his favorite deity, Dionysus, as the Versucher-Gott , i.e. as the tempter god, attempter god (experimenter). I render this wordplay as 'searcher' and 'researcher' to preserve the wordplay, but wherever this particular combination occurs in TSZ or elsewhere, one should suspect Nietzsche is exploring the relationship between searching, attempting (experimenting, researching) and tempting. Thus Spoke Zarathustra 'You spirit of gravity!' I said, angrily. 'Do not make it too easy on yourself! Or I shall leave you crouching here where you crouch, lamefoot and I bore you this high ! See this moment!' I continued. 'From this gateway Moment a long eternal lane stretches backward : behind us lies an eternity. Must not whatever can already have passed this way before? Must not whatever can happen, already have happened, been done, passed by before? And if everything has already been here before, what do you think of this moment, dwarf? Must this gateway too not already - have been here? And are not all things firmly knotted together in such a way that this moment draws after it all things to come? Therefore - itself as well? For, whatever can run, even in this long lane outward -must run itonce more! - And this slow spider that creeps in the moonlight, and this moonlight itself, and I and you in the gateway whispering together, whispering of eternal things - must not all of us have been here before? - And return and run in that other lane, outward, before us, in this long, eerie lane - must we not return eternally? -' Thus I spoke, softer and softer, for I was afraid of my own thought and secret thoughts. Then, suddenly, I heard a dog howl nearby. Had I ever heard a dog howl like this? My thoughts raced back. Yes! When I was a child, in my most distant childhood:"}
{"text": "- then I heard a dog howl like this. And I saw it too, bristling, its head up, trembling in the stillest midnight when even dogs believe in ghosts: -sothat I felt pity. For the full moon had passed over the house, silent as death, and it had just stopped, a round smolder - stopped on the flat roof just as if on a stranger's property - that is the why the dog was so horror-stricken, because dogs believe in thieves and ghosts. And when I heard it howl like this again, I felt pity once more. Where now was the dwarf? And the gateway? And the spider? And all the whispering? Was I dreaming? Was I waking? I stood all of a sudden among wild cliffs, alone, desolate, in the most desolate moonlight. But there lay a human being ! And there! The dog jumping, bristling, whining - now it saw me coming - then it howled again, it screamed : had I ever heard a dog scream like this for help?"}
{"text": "With such riddles and bitterness in his heart Zarathustra traveled across the sea. But when he was four days removed from the blessed isles and Thus Spoke Zarathustra from his friends, he had overcome all of his pain: triumphant and with firm footing he stood once again upon his destiny. And then Zarathustra spoke thus to his jubilating conscience: Iamalone again and want to be, alone with pure sky and open sea; and again it is afternoon around me. In the afternoon I once found my friends for the first time, in the afternoon then a second time: at the hour when all light grows stiller. For whatever happiness is still underway between sky and earth, it now seeks shelter for itself in a bright soul: out of happiness now all light has become stiller. Oh afternoon of my life! Once my happiness too climbed to the valley to seek itself a shelter; there it found these open, hospitable souls. Oh afternoon of my life! What have I not given up to have this one thing: this lively plantation of my thoughts and this morning light of my highest hope! Companions the creator once sought and children of his hope, and truly, it turned out that he could not find them unless he first created them himself. AndsoIaminthemiddleofmywork,goingtomychildrenandreturning from them; for the sake of his children Zarathustra must complete himself. For at bottom one loves only one's own child and work; and where there is great love for oneself it is the hallmark of pregnancy - this is what I found. My children are still greening in their first spring, standing close to one another and shaken by a common wind, the trees of my garden and best plot of soil. Andtruly, where such trees stand next to one another, there are blessed isles! But at some point I want to dig them up and set each one apart, so that it learns solitude and defiance and caution. Gnarled and crooked and with pliant hardness it shall stand then beside the sea, a living lighthouse of invincible life. There, where the storms plunge down into the sea and the mountain's trunk drinks water, there each one shall someday have his day and night watches, for his own testing and knowledge. Thus Spoke Zarathustra"}
{"text": "When I have once overcome that challenge, then I want to overcome one still greater; and a triumph shall be the seal of my completion! - Meanwhile I still drift on uncertain seas; accident flatters me with its smooth tongue, and though I look forward and backward, I still see no end. As yet the hour of my final struggle has not come - or does it come just now? Indeed, with treacherous beauty the surrounding sea and life gaze at me! Oh afternoon of my life! Oh happiness before evening! Oh harbor on the high sea! Oh peace in uncertainty! How I mistrust you all! Indeed, I am mistrustful of your treacherous beauty! I resemble the lover who mistrusts the all too velvety smile. As he pushes his most beloved before him, tender even in his hardness, the jealous one - so too I push this blissful hour before me. Away with you, you blissful hour! Along with you an unwilling bliss came to me. Willing to take my deepest pain I stand here: you came at the wrong time! Away with you, you blissful hour! Rather take shelter there - with my children! Hurry! And bless them before evening with my happiness! The evening is coming now, the sun is sinking. Gone - my happiness! - Thus spoke Zarathustra. And he waited for his unhappiness the whole night, but he waited in vain. The night remained bright and still, and happiness itself came closer and closer to him. Toward morning, however, Zarathustra laughed in his heart and said mockingly: 'Happiness chases after me, and that is because I do not chase after women. But happiness is a woman.'"}
{"text": "Oh sky above me, you pure, you deep one! You abyss of light! Gazing at you I shudder with godlike desires. To hurl myself into your height - that is my depth! To hide myself in your purity - that is my innocence. The god is veiled by his beauty; thus you conceal your stars. You do not speak; thus you make your wisdom known to me. Mutely you rose for me today over the roaring sea, your love and your modesty speak revelation to my roaring soul. Thus Spoke Zarathustra And'whoever cannot bless, let him learn to curse!' - this bright teaching fell to me from the bright sky, this star stands in my sky even in black nights. Iamablesser and a Yes-sayer if only you are around me, you pure, you bright one, you abyss of light! Into all abysses then I carry my Yes-saying that blesses. I have become a blesser and a Yes-sayer, and for this I wrestled long and was a wrestler, in order to free my hands one day for blessing. But this is my blessing: to stand over each thing as its own sky, as its round roof, its azure bell and eternal security - and blessed is he who blesses so! For all things are baptized at the well of eternity and beyond good and evil; good and evil themselves, however, are only shadows in between and damp glooms and drift-clouds. Truly it is a blessing and no blasphemy when I teach: 'Over all things stands the sky accident, the sky innocence, the sky chance, the sky mischief.' 'By chance' - that is the oldest nobility in the world, I gave it back to all things, I redeemed them from their servitude under purpose. This freedom and cheerfulness of the sky I placed like an azure bell over all things when I taught that over them and through them no 'eternal will' - wills. This mischief and this folly I placed in place of that will when I taught: 'With all things one thing is impossible - rationality!' A bit of reason to be sure, a seed of wisdom sprinkled from star to star this sourdough is mixed into all things: for the sake of folly, wisdom is mixed into all things! A bit of wisdom is indeed possible; but I found this blessed certainty in all things: that on the feet of accident they would rather dance ."}
{"text": "Oh sky above me, you pure, you exalted one! This your purity is to me now, that there is no eternal spider and spider web of reason: - that you are my dance floor for divine accident, that you are my gods' table for divine dice throws and dice players! - But you blush? Did I speak the unspeakable? Did I blaspheme when I wanted to bless you? Or is it the shame of us two that made you blush? - Do you command me to go and be silent because now - the day is coming?"}
{"text": "The world is deep - and deeper than the day has ever grasped. Not everything may be permitted to speak before day. But the day is coming, and so let us part now! Oh sky above me, you bashful, you glowing one! Oh you my happiness before sunrise! The day is coming, and so let us part now! - Thus spoke Zarathustra."}
{"text": "When Zarathustra was on dry land again he did not go directly to his mountains and his cave, but instead took many ways and asked many questions and found out about this and that, saying of himself jokingly: 'Look at the river that flows back to its source in many windings!' For he wanted to learn what had transpired in the meantime among human beings ; whether they had become bigger or smaller. And once he saw a row of new houses, and he was amazed then and he said: 'What do these houses mean? Truly, no great soul placed them here, as a parable of itself! Probably some feeble-minded child took them out of its toy box? If only another child would put them back into its toy box! And these parlors and chambers; can men go in and out here? To me they seem made for satin dolls, or for nibblers who probably let themselves be nibbled.' AndZarathustra stood still and reflected. At last he said sadly: ' Everything has become smaller! Everywhere I see lower gateways; whoever is like me can still pass through, but - he has to stoop! OhwhenwillIreturntomyhomelandwhereInolongerhavetostoopno longer have to stoop before the small ones !' - And Zarathustra sighed and gazed into the distance. - Onthe same day, however, he delivered his speech on virtue that makes small. I walk among these people and keep my eyes open; they do not forgive me that I am not envious of their virtues. Thus Spoke Zarathustra They bite at me because I say to them: for small people small virtues are necessary - and because I find it hard to grasp that small people are necessary ! I still resemble the rooster here in a strange barnyard, whom even the hens bite; and yet I am not bad to the hens because of that. I am courteous toward them as toward all small annoyances; to be prickly toward what is small strikes me as wisdom for porcupines. They all talk about me when they sit around the fire evenings - they talk about me, but no one thinks - about me! This is the new stillness that I learned: their noise concerning me spreads a cloak over my thoughts."}
{"text": "They make noise among themselves: 'What does this dark cloud want with us? Let's see to it that it does not bring us a plague!' And recently a woman snatched her child to herself, who wanted to come to me: 'Take the children away!' she shouted. 'Such eyes singe children's souls.' They cough when I speak, they think that coughing is an objection to strong wind - they guess nothing of the roaring of my happiness! 'We still have no time for Zarathustra' - thus they object; but what does any time matter which 'has no time' for Zarathustra? And even if they were to praise me, how could I fall asleep on their praise? Their praise is a belt of thorns to me; it scratches me even when I take it off. And this also I learned among them: the one who praises pretends that he is giving back, but in truth he wants to be given even more! Ask my foot whether it likes their tune of praise and palaver! Indeed, to such a beat and tick-tock it wants neither to dance nor to stand still. They want to palaver and praise me to their small virtue; they would like to persuade my foot to the tick-tock of their small happiness. I walk among these people and keep my eyes open; they have become smaller and are becoming ever smaller: but this is because of their teaching on happiness and virtue . For they are modest even in their virtue - because they want contentment. But only modest virtue goes along with contentment. Even they, of course, learn to stride and to stride forward in their way this is what I call their hobbling . This way they become an obstacle to anyone who is in a hurry. Thus Spoke Zarathustra I walk among these people and let many a word fall, but they know neither to take nor to keep. TheyareamazedthatIdidnotcometolambastlustingandmalignancy, and truly, nor did I come to warn of pick-pockets! They are amazed that I am not prepared to make their cleverness wittier and prettier, as if they did not have enough cleverlings already, whose voices scrape me like chalk on slate!"}
{"text": "And when I shout: 'A curse on all cowardly devils in you, who like to whine and fold their hands and worship,' then they shout: 'Zarathustra is godless.' And especially their teachers of resignation shout it - but they are precisely the ones into whose ears I like to shout: 'Yes! I am Zarathustra, the godless one!' These teachers of resignation! Wherever there is pettiness and sickness and scabs, they crawl to it like lice; and only my disgust prevents me from cracking them. Well then! This is my sermon for their ears: I am Zarathustra, the godless, who says: 'Who is more godless than I, so that I can enjoy his instruction?' IamZarathustra, the godless: where do I find my equal? And all those are my equal who give themselves their own will and put aside all resignation. IamZarathustra, the godless: I still cook every chance in my pot. And only when it has been well cooked in there do I welcome it as my food. And truly, many a chance came to me imperiously, but my will spoke to it even more imperiously - and already it lay begging on its knees - - begging me for protection and affection and addressing me with flattery: 'Look, oh Zarathustra, it's only a friend coming to a friend!' - But why do I speak where no one has my ears! And so I want to shout it out to the four winds: You are becoming smaller and smaller, you small people! You are crumbling, you contented ones! You will yet perish - - of your many small virtues, of your many small abstentions, of your many small resignations! Too sparing, too yielding - that is your soil! But in order for a tree to grow tall , it needs to put down hard roots amid hard rock!"}
{"text": ", Third Part = And even what you abstain from weaves at the web of all future. , Third Part = humanity; even your nothing is a spider web and a spider that lives off. the blood of the future., Third Part = And when you take, it's like stealing, you small-virtued ones; and even. among rogues honor, Third Part = says: 'One should only steal where one can not. rob.', Third Part = . 'It will give' - that too is a teaching of resignation. But I say to you, Third Part = . contented people: it will take, Third Part = and it will take more and more from you!. Oh if only you would put aside all half, Third Part = willing and become as resolute. in your sloth as in your deeds! Oh if only you understood my words: 'Go ahead and do whatever you, Third Part = !. will - but first be the kind of people who can will, Third Part = . Go ahead and love your neighbors as you love yourselves - but first be, Third Part ="}
{"text": "The winter, a wicked guest, sits in my house; my hands are blue from his friendly handshake. I honor him, this wicked guest, but I gladly let him sit alone. Gladly I run away from him, and if one runs well , then one can escape him! With warm feet and warm thoughts I run to where the wind is calm to the sunny spot of my mount of olives. Thus Spoke Zarathustra There I laugh at my fierce guest and still think well of him for catching the flies in my house and silencing much small noise. For he does not tolerate it when a mosquito or two wants to sing; he also makes the lane so lonely that the moonlight is afraid in it at night. Ahardguestis he - but I honor him, and I do not pray to the pot-bellied fire idol like the weaklings. Rather a bit of teeth chattering than worshiping idols - that is how my kind wants it! And I especially grudge all horny, steamy, musty fire idols. Whomever I love, I love better in winter than in summer; better and more heartily I now mock my enemies since winter sits at home with me. Heartily indeed, even when I crawl to bed - then even my hiding happiness laughs and makes mischief; even my lying dream laughs. I, a crawler? Never in my life have I crawled before the mighty; and if I ever lied, then I lied out of love. That is why I am cheerful even in my winter bed. A meager bed warms me more than a rich one, for I am jealous of my poverty, and in winter it is most faithful to me. Each day I begin with a malice; I mock winter with a cold bath - that makes my fierce house guest growl. I also like to tickle him with a little wax candle, so that finally he will release the sky from ashen grey twilight. In the morning I am especially malicious, in the early hour when the pail clatters at the well and the horses whinny warmly through grey lanes: Impatiently I wait for the bright sky to open at last, the snow-bearded winter sky, the old man and white-head - - the winter sky, the silent one who often keeps even his sun silent! Did I learn my long bright silence from him? Or did he learn it from me? Or did each of us invent it on his own?"}
{"text": "The origin of all good things is thousandfold - all good mischievous things leap for joy into existence: so how are they supposed to do this only once? Long silence too is a good mischievous thing, and looking out of a round-eyed face like the winter sky -"}
{"text": ", Third Part = - to be silent like the winter sky about one's sun and one's uncom-. well !, Third Part = promising solar will: indeed, this art and this winter mischief I learned. , Third Part = Myfavorite malice and art is that my silence learned not to betray itself. , Third Part = through silence.. , Third Part = Rattling with diction and dice I outwit the solemn waiting ones; my. will and purpose shall elude all these fierce watchers., Third Part = . , Third Part = To prevent anyone from looking down into my ground and ultimate. will, I invented my long bright silence., Third Part = . so that no one could see through him and down into him., Third Part = . , Third Part = But precisely to him came the more clever mistrustful ones and nut. , Third Part = crackers; precisely his most hidden fish they fished out of him!. , Third Part = of those who keep silent; those whose ground is so deep that even the. , Third Part = brightest water does not - betray it.. You snow-bearded silent winter sky, you round-eyed white-head above, Third Part = . me! Oh you heavenly parable of my soul and its mischief!, Third Part = . must, Third Part = I not conceal myself like someone who has swallowed gold -. And, Third Part = . so that they do not slit open my soul? Must overlook, Third Part = I not wear stilts so that they my long legs - all these plain. jealous and pain zealous who surround me?, Third Part = jealous and pain zealous who surround me?. These smoky, room-temperature, used up, greened-out, grief ridden, Third Part = These smoky, room-temperature, used up, greened-out, grief ridden. souls - how could their envy bear my happiness!, Third Part = souls - how could their envy bear my happiness!. And so I show them only the ice and the winter on my peaks - and, Third Part = And so I show them only the ice and the winter on my peaks - and. not, Third Part = not. that my mountain winds all the belts of the sun around itself!, Third Part = that my mountain winds all the belts of the sun around itself!. , Third Part = They hear only my winter storms whistling, and not"}
{"text": "that I also glide. over warm seas like longing, heavy, sultry south winds. They still have mercy on my accidents and coincidences: but, Third Part = over warm seas like longing, heavy, sultry south winds. They still have mercy on my accidents and coincidences: but. say: 'Let accident come to me: it is innocent, like a little child!', Third Part = say: 'Let accident come to me: it is innocent, like a little child!'. How could they bear my happiness if I did not cover my happiness, Third Part = . , Third Part = with accidents and winter emergencies and polar bear caps and snow-sky. , Third Part = sheets?. - If I myself didn't have mercy on their pity, Third Part = : the pity of these who are. plain jealous and pain zealous!, Third Part = plain jealous and pain zealous!. - If I myself didn't sigh before them, teeth chattering, and patiently, Third Part = - If I myself didn't sigh before them, teeth chattering, and patiently. allow, Third Part = allow. myself to be wrapped in their pity!, Third Part = myself to be wrapped in their pity!"}
{"text": "It is the wise mischief and benevolence of my soul that it does not conceal its winter and its ice storms; nor does it conceal its frostbites. One person's loneliness is the escape of the sick; another's loneliness is the escape from the sick. Let them hear mechatter and sigh from winter cold, all these wretched, leering rascals around me! With such sighing and chattering I still escape their heated rooms. Let them sympathize and sympasigh about my frostbite: 'He will freeze yet from the ice of knowledge!' - so they lament. Meanwhile I run with warm feet crisscross on my mount of olives; in the sunny spot of my mount of olives I sing and mock all pitying. - Thus sang Zarathustra."}
{"text": "In this manner, hiking slowly through many peoples and towns, Zarathustra returned the long way to his mountains and his cave. And then, unexpectedly, he also arrived at the gate of the big city . Here, however, a foaming fool with outstretched hands leaped toward him and blocked his path. And this was the same fool whom the people called 'Zarathustra's ape,' because he had memorized some of the phrasing and tone of Zarathustra's speaking and also liked to borrow from the treasure of his wisdom. The fool spoke thus to Zarathustra: 'Oh Zarathustra, this is the big city: here you have nothing to gain and everything to lose. Why do you want to wade through this mud? Have pity on your feet! Spit on the city gate instead and - turn around! Here is hell for hermit's thoughts; here great thoughts are boiled alive and cooked till they are small. Hereall great feelings rot; here only tiny, rattlebone feelings are allowed to rattle! Doyounotalreadysmelltheslaughterhousesandkitchensofthespirit? Does this town not steam with the reek of slaughtered spirit? 'M ogen sie mich bemitleiden und bemitseufzen ob meiner Frostbeulen' - playful coinages such as bemitseufzen ,ofwhich there are several in TSZ, can often seem alienating and outrageous to readers of German, and clearly this was Nietzsche's intention. Though very difficult to translate, and frequently accompanied by internal rhyme, alliteration, and other lyrical devices, these vivacious puns and coinages nonetheless deserve an attempt on the translator's part. Thus Spoke Zarathustra - where everything that is crumbly, corrupted, lusty, dusky, overly mushy and pussy festers together confederately: - - spit on the big city and turn around!' - At this point, however, Zarathustra interrupted the foaming fool and clapped his hand over the fool's mouth. 'Stop at last!' cried Zarathustra. 'Your speech and your ways have nauseated me for a long time already! Why have you lived so long near the swamp, that you yourself had to turn into a frog and a toad?"}
{"text": "Doesn't tainted and frothy, decrepit swamp blood flow in your own veins now, since you have learned to croak and lambast this way? Whydidn't you go into the woods? Or plow the earth? Isn't the sea full of green islands? I despise your despising; and if you warned me - why didn't you warn yourself? Out of love alone shall my despising and my warning bird fly up: but not out of the swamp! - They call you my ape, you foaming fool; but I call you my grunting swine - by grunting you will yet spoil my praise of folly. Whatwasitafter all that made you start grunting? That no one flattered you enough - so you sat down to this garbage in order to have reason to grunt a lot - - in order to have reason for a lot of revenge ! Indeed, all your foaming is revenge, you vain fool; I guessed you well! But your fool's words injure me , even where you are right! And if Zarathustra's words were right even a hundred times: you would always do wrong with my words!' Thus spoke Zarathustra, and he looked at the big city, sighed, and kept silent for a long time. Finally he spoke thus: 'I am nauseated too by this big city and not only by this fool. Here as there nothing can be bettered, nothing can be worsened. Woe to this big city! - And I wish I already saw the pillar of fire in which it will burn! For such pillars of fire must precede the great noon. But this has its own time and its own destiny. - Meanwhile, you fool, I give you this lesson in parting: where one can no longer love, there one should pass by !' - Thus spoke Zarathustra and he passed by the fool and the big city."}
{"text": "Alas, does everything lie wilted and grey that only recently stood green and colorful in this meadow? And how much honey of hope I carried from here to my beehives! All these young hearts have already grown old - and not even old! Only weary, common, comfortable - as they put it: 'We have become pious again.' Just recently I saw them set out by early morning on brave feet, but their feet of knowledge grew weary, and now they slander even their braveness of the morning! Truly, many a one used to raise his legs like a dancer; the laughter in my wisdom beckoned to him - then he reconsidered. Just now I saw him crooked - and crawling to the cross. Once they fluttered around light and freedom like gnats and young poets. A bit older, a bit colder, and already they monger rumors in the dark, thronging around the stove. Did their hearts falter perhaps because solitude swallowed me like a whale? Did their ears listen perhaps longingly long in vain for me and my trumpet and herald calls? Too bad!Thosewhoseheartshavelongcourageandencouragemischief are always few; and in such the spirit too remains patient. But the rest are cowardly . Therest:thesearealwaysthemostbyfar,thedaytoday,thesuperfluous, the far-too-many - all of these are cowardly! Whoever is of my kind also encounters my kind of experiences along the way, so that his first companions have to be corpses and jesters. His second companions, however - they will call themselves his believers : a living swarm, much love, much folly, much beardless veneration. Whoever is of my kind among human beings should not tie his heart to these believers; whoever knows capricious, cowardly humankind should not believe in these spring times and colorful meadows! If they could do otherwise, then they would also will otherwise. Halfand-halfs spoil all that is whole. That leaves will wilt - what is to be lamented here! Third Part"}
{"text": "Let them fly and fall, oh Zarathustra, and do not lament! Better yet blow among them with rustling wind - - blow among these leaves, oh Zarathustra, so that everything wilted runs away from you even faster! - 'We have become pious again' - so these apostates confess, and some of them are still too cowardly to confess in this manner. I look them in the eye - I tell them to their faces and to their blushing cheeks: You are the kind who pray again! But it is a disgrace to pray! Not for everyone, but for you and me and whoever still has a conscience in his head. For you it is a disgrace to pray! You know it well; your cowardly devil in you, who likes to fold his hands and lay his hands in his lap and wants to have it easier - this cowardly devil exhorts you: 'There is a God!' With that however you belong to the shade-loving variety who are never left in peace by light; now every day you must stick your head deeper into night and mist! And truly, you chose the hour well, for just now the night birds are flying out. The hour has come for all shade-loving folk, the evening and commemoration hour when they do not 'commemorate.' I hear and smell it: their hour came for the hunt and the procession, not for a wild hunt, to be sure, but for a tame, lame, snooping, up-buttering prayer muttering hunt - -for a hunt for soulful mousy yes-men; all the heart's mousetraps have nowbeensetagain! And wherever I lift a curtain, a little night moth comes fluttering out. Did it perhaps crouch there with another little night moth? For everywhere I smell little communities that have crept away; and where there are little rooms there are new Holy Joes in them and the reek of Holy Joes. They sit long evenings together and say: 'Let us become as little children again and say 'dear God'!' - their mouths and stomachs ruined by pious confectioners. Or they watch long evenings the cunning lurking cross spider, which preaches cleverness to the spiders themselves and thus teaches: 'There is good spinning among crosses!' Has the time not long since past even for all such doubting? Who is allowed anymore to wake up such old, sleeping, shade-loving things!"}
{"text": "It has been over for the old gods for a long time now - and truly, they had a good cheerful gods' end! They did not 'twilight' themselves to death - that is surely a lie! Instead, they just one day up and laughed themselves to death! This happened when the most godless words were uttered by a god himself - the words: 'There is one god. Thou shalt have no other god before me!' - - an old grim-beard of a god, a jealous one forgot himself in this way: And all the gods laughed then and rocked in their chairs and cried: 'Is godliness not precisely that there are gods but no God?' He who has ears to hear, let him hear. - Thus spoke Zarathustra in the town that he loved and which is called The Motley Cow. From here he had only two more days to go to return to his cave and his animals, and his soul jubilated constantly at the nearness of his homecoming. -"}
{"text": "Ohsolitude! Oh you my home solitude! I lived wild too long in wild foreign lands to not return to you with tears! Nowgoahead and threaten me with your finger, like mothers threaten; now smile at me, like mothers smile; now say to me: 'And who was it that once stormed out on me like a storm wind? - - who called out in leaving: 'too long have I sat with solitude, and I have forgotten how to keep silent!' That - you have learned now? Oh Zarathustra, I know everything, and that you were more forsaken among the many, you solitary one, than ever with me! Being forsaken is one thing, solitude is another: that - you have now learned! And that among human beings you will always be wild and foreign. Wild and foreign even when they love you; for what they want above all is to be spared ! But here you are in your own home and house; here you can speak everything out and pour out all the reasons, nothing here is ashamed of obscure, obstinate feelings. Here all things come caressingly to your rhetoric and they flatter you, for they want to ride on your back. Here you ride on every parable to every truth. Third Part Here you may speak uprightly and forthrightly to all things, and truly, it rings like praise in their ears that someone talks straight with all things! But being forsaken is another matter. For do you still recall, oh Zarathustra, when your bird called above you, when you stood in the woods, hesitating about which way to go, close to a corpse? - Whenyouspoke:'Maymyanimalsguideme!Ifounditmoredangerous among human beings than among animals' that was forsaken! And do you still recall, oh Zarathustra, when you sat on your island, a well of wine among empty buckets, giving and giving away, among the thirsty bestowing and flowing: - until at last you alone sat thirsty among the drunk and lamented at night: 'is receiving not more blessed than giving? And stealing even more blessed than receiving?' That was forsaken! And do you still recall, oh Zarathustra, when your stillest hour came and drove you away from yourself, when with evil whispers it said: 'Speak and break!' -"}
{"text": "- when it made you sorry for all your waiting and silence and discouraged your cautious courage: that was forsaken!' - Oh solitude! You my home solitude! How blissfully and tenderly your voice speaks to me! We do not implore one another, we do not deplore one another, we walk openly with one another through open doors. Foratyour house it is open and bright, and even the hours run here on lighter feet. In darkness, after all, time is heavier to bear than in the light. Here all of being's words and word shrines burst open; here all being wants to become word, here all becoming wants to learn from me how to speak. But down there - there all speaking is in vain! There forgetting and passing by are the best wisdom: that - I have now learned! Whoever wanted to comprehend everything among human beings would have to apprehend everything. But for that my hands are too clean. I cannot stand even to inhale their breath; too bad that I have lived so long among their noise and bad breath! 'Wir gehen offen miteinander.' Kaufmann misread offen , openly, as oft or ofters : 'we often walk together.' Thus Spoke Zarathustra Oh blissful silence around me! Oh clean fragrances around me ! Oh how this silence takes a deep clean breath! Oh how it listens, this blissful silence! But down there - everyone talks there, everyone is ignored there. One could ring in his wisdom with bells, and the shopkeepers in the market place would jingle it out with pennies. Everyonetalksamongthem,nooneknowsanymorehowtounderstand. Everything falls in the water, nothing falls anymore into deep wells. Everyone talks among them, nothing works out anymore and comes to an end. Everyone cackles, but who wants to sit still in the nest anymore and hatch eggs? Everyonetalks among them, everything gets talked to death. And whatever was still too hard yesterday for time itself and for its tooth, today it hangs scraped up and chewed up from the snouts of today's people. Everyone talks among them, everything is betrayed. And what was once called secret and secrecy of deep souls, today it belongs to the street trumpeters and other butterflies. Ohhumannature, you strange thing! You noise in dark lanes! Now you lie behind me again - my greatest danger lies behind me!"}
{"text": "In sparing and pitying my greatest danger always lay; and all human nature wants to be spared and pitied. Withconcealed truths, with a fool's hand and a fooled, infatuated heart, rich in pity's petty lies - this is how I lived among human beings. Disguised I sat among them, ready to misjudge myself in order to stand them , and gladly urging myself: 'You fool, you do not know human beings!' One forgets about human beings when one lives among human beings; there is too much foreground in all human beings - what use are farsighted, far-seeking eyes there ! And when they misjudged me, I, fool, spared them more than myself, since I am accustomed to hardness, and often I even took revenge on myself for being so sparing. Covered in bites by poisonous flies and hollowed out, like a stone, by manydropsofmalice,IsatamongthemandstillItoldmyself:'Everything small is innocent of its smallness!' Especially those who call themselves 'the good,' I found to be the most poisonous flies; they sting in all innocence, they lie in all innocence - how could they be just toward me! Thus Spoke Zarathustra - as if a plump apple offered itself to my hand, a ripe golden apple, with cool soft velvety peel - thus the world offered itself to me: -asifatree waved to me, a broad-limbed, strong-willed tree, bent as a support and even as a footrest for the weary traveler: thus stood the world on my foothill: - as if delicate hands carried a shrine toward me - a shrine open for the delight of bashful, venerating eyes: thus the world offered itself to me today: - not riddle enough to chase away human love, not solution enough to lull human wisdom to sleep - a humanly good thing the world was for me today, of which so much evil is spoken! HowdoIthank my morning dream for allowing me to weigh the world early this morning? As a humanly good thing it came to me, this dream and consoler of the heart! And in order to do by day what it does, and to imitate it and learn its best, I now want to place the three most evil things on the scale and weigh them humanly well."}
{"text": "He that taught to bless here also taught to curse: what are the three best-cursed things in the world? These I want to place on the scale. Sex, lust to rule, selfishness : these three have been cursed best and slandered and lied about most so far - these three I want to weigh humanly well. Well then! Here is my foothill and there is the sea; it rolls up to me, shaggy, flattering, the faithful old hundred-headed behemoth hound that I love. Well then! Here I want to hold the scale over rolling seas, and I also choose a witness to look on - you, you hermit tree, you strongly fragrant, broadly vaulted tree that I love! Onwhat bridge does the now get to the someday? By what compulsion does the high compel itself to the low? And what commands even the highest - to grow higher? Nowthescalestands balanced and still: three weighty questions I threw into it, three weighty answers are borne by the other pan. Sex: the thorn and stake of all hair-shirted body despisers, and cursed as 'world' among all hinterworldly, because it mocks and fools all teachers of muddle and mistakes. Thus Spoke Zarathustra And it was then that it happened - indeed happened for the first time! - that his words pronounced selfishness blessed, the sound, healthy selfishness that wells from a powerful soul - - from a powerful soul to which the high body belongs, the beautiful, triumphant, invigorating body, around which every manner of thing becomes mirror: - the supple persuading body, the dancer whose parable and epitome is the self-joyous soul. Such self-joy of body and soul calls itself: 'Virtue.' With its words of good and bad such self-joy shields itself as if with sacred groves; with the names of its happiness it banishes from itself everything contemptible. From itself it banishes all that is cowardly, saying: 'Bad that is cowardly !' It considers contemptible those who always worry, sigh, complain, and whoever picks up even the smallest advantages. It also despises all woe-wallowing wisdom, for indeed, there is also wisdom that blossoms in darkness, a night shadow wisdom that always sighs: 'All is vain!'"}
{"text": "It holds shy mistrust in low esteem, and everyone who wants oaths instead of gazes and hands; and all wisdom that is all too mistrustful because this is the way of cowardly souls. Even lower it esteems those quick to please, the dog-like who lie on their backs right away, the humble; and there is wisdom too that is humble and dog-like and pious and quick to please. Utterly disgusting and despicable to it are those who never defend themselves, who swallow poisonous spittle and evil stares; the all too patient, all-enduring, all-complacent: for they are the servile kind. Whether a person is servile before gods and gods' kicks, or before human beings and stupid human opinions: all servile kind it spits on, this blissful selfishness! Bad: that is what it calls everything that is struck down, stingy and servile; fettered blinking eyes, oppressed hearts, and those false, yielding types who kiss with broad cowardly lips. And pseudo-wisdom: that is what it calls everything that servants and old men and weary people witticize; and especially the whole nasty nitwitted, twitwitted foolishness of priests! The pseudo-wise, however, all the priests, the world weary and whoever's souls are of the woman's and servant's kind - oh how their game Thus Spoke Zarathustra Whoever one day teaches humans to fly, will have shifted all boundary stones; for him all boundary stones themselves will fly into the air, he will christen the earth anew - as 'the light one.' The ostrich runs faster than the fastest horse, but it also sticks its head heavily into the heavy earth; so too the human being who cannot yet fly. Heavy do earth and life seem to him; and the spirit of gravity wants it so! But whoever wants to become light and a bird must love himself thus I teach. Not, to be sure, with the love of the sick and addicted, because among them even self-love stinks! One has to learn to love oneself - thus I teach - with a hale and healthy love, so that one can stand oneself and not have to roam around. Such roaming around christens itself 'love of the neighbor': these words so far have produced the best lying and hypocrisy, and especially from those whom all the world found heavy."}
{"text": "And truly, this is not a command for today and tomorrow, this learning to love oneself. Instead, of all arts this is the most subtle, cunning, ultimate and most patient. For one's own, you see, all one's own is well hidden; and of all buried treasures, one's own is the latest to be dug up - this is the spirit of gravity's doing. Almost from the cradle, grave words and values are imparted to us; 'good' and 'evil' this dowry calls itself. For its sake we are forgiven for being alive. And for this reason one lets the little children come to one, in order to restrain them early on from loving themselves: this is the spirit of gravity's doing. And we - we faithfully lug what is imparted to us on hard shoulders and over rough mountains! And if we sweat, then we are told: 'Yes, life is a heavy burden!' But only the human being is a heavy burden to himself! This is because he lugs too much that is foreign to him. Like a camel he kneels down and allows himself to be well burdened. Especially the strong human being who is eager to bear and inherently reverent: too many foreign words and values he loads upon himself - now life seems a desert to him! Thus Spoke Zarathustra Damned I also call those who must always wait - they offend my taste: all the publicans and grocers and kings and other shop- and countrykeepers. Indeed, I too learned to wait, and thoroughly - but only to wait for myself . And above all I learned to stand and walk and run and leap and climb and dance. But this is my teaching; whoever wants to fly someday must first learn to stand and walk and run and climb and dance - one cannot fly one's way to flight! On rope ladders I learned to climb to many a window, with agile legs I climbed up high masts: to sit atop tall masts of knowledge struck me as no small bliss - - to flicker like small flames atop tall masts; a small light, to be sure, and yet a great comfort for stranded sailors and shipwreck survivors! By many a trail and manner I came to my truth; not on one ladder did I climb to my height, where my eye roams out into my distance."}
{"text": "And I never liked asking the way - that always offended my taste! I preferred to question and try the ways myself. All my coming and going was a trying and questioning - and truly, one must also learn to answer such questioning! That, however - is my taste: - not good, not bad, but my taste, of which I am no longer shameful nor secretive. 'This - it turns out - is my way - where is yours?' - That is how I answered those who asked me 'the way.' The way after all - it does not exist! Thus spoke Zarathustra."}
{"text": "Here I sit and wait, old broken tablets around me and also new tablets only partially written upon. When will my hour come? - the hour of my going down, going under: for I want to return to mankind once more. This is what I wait for now; signs must come to me first that it is my hour - namely the laughing lion with a swarm of doves."}
{"text": "Meanwhile I talk to myself as one who has time. No one tells me anything new, and so I tell myself to myself. When I came to mankind, I found them sitting on an old conceit: they all conceited to have known for a long time what is good and evil for humanity. To them all talk of virtue seemed an old worn out thing; and whoever wanted to sleep well even spoke about 'good' and 'evil' before going to bed. I disturbed this sleepiness when I taught: what is good and evil no one knows yet - except for the creator! He, however, is the one who creates a goal for mankind and gives the earth its meaning and its future: This one first creates the possibility that something can be good and evil. I told them to overthrow their old professorial chairs wherever that old conceit had sat; I told them to laugh at their great masters of virtue and their saints and poets and world redeemers. I told them to laugh at their gloomy wise men and at any who ever perched in warning, like black scarecrows, in the tree of life. Isat down alongside their great road of graves and even among carrion andvultures - and I laughed at all their yesteryear and its rotting, decaying glory. Indeed, like preachers of repentance and fools I screamed bloody murder about all their great and small - that their best is so very small! that their most evil is so very small! - I had to laugh. Thus my wild longing cried and laughed out of me, born in the mountains, a wild wisdom surely! - my great, winging, roaring longing. And often it swept me off my feet and up and away, in the midst of my laughter, where I flew quivering, an arrow, through sun-drunken delight: - off into distant futures not yet glimpsed in dreams, into hotter souths than any artist ever dreamed of; there, where dancing gods are ashamed of all clothing: - so that I must speak in parables and limp and stutter like the poets; and truly, I am ashamed that I must still be a poet! - Thus Spoke Zarathustra Where all becoming seemed to me the dance of gods and the mischief of gods, and the world seemed unloosed and frolicsome and as though it were fleeing back to itself:"}
{"text": "-asaneternal fleeing from and seeking each other again of many gods, as the blissful contradicting, again-hearing, again-nearing each other of many gods: Where all time seemed to me a blissful mockery of moments, where necessity was freedom itself, which played blissfully with the sting of freedom: Where I once again found my old devil and arch-enemy, the spirit of gravity, and everything he created: compulsion, statute, necessity and consequence and purpose and will and good and evil: For must there not exist something over which one dances, dances away? Must not, for the sake of the light and the lightest - moles and heavy dwarves exist? - It was there too that I picked up the word 'overman' along the way, and that the human is something that must be overcome, - that human being is a bridge and not an end; counting itself blessed for its noon and evening as the way to new dawns: - the Zarathustra-words about the great noon, and whatever else I suspended above mankind like purple second sunsets. Truly, I allowed them to see new stars together with new nights; and over clouds and day and night I even spread laughter like a colorful tent. I taught them all my creating and striving: to carry together into one what is fragment in mankind and riddle and horrid accident - -aspoet, riddle guesser and redeemer of chance I taught them to work on the future, and to creatively redeem everything that was . To redeem what is past in mankind and to recreate all 'It was' until the will speaks: 'But I wanted it so! I shall want it so -' This I told them was redemption, this alone I taught them to call redemption. - Now I wait for my redemption - so that I can go to them for the last time. Thus Spoke Zarathustra Enjoyment and innocence, you see, are the most bashful things: both do not want to be sought. One should have them - but one should sooner seek guilt and suffering! - Oh my brothers, whoever is a firstborn is always sacrificed. But now we are the firstborns. We all bleed on secret sacrificial altars; we all burn and broil in honor of old idols."}
{"text": "Our best is still young; that tempts old gums. Our flesh is tender, our hide is mere lambskin - how could we not tempt old idol priests! Even in ourselves he still lives, the old idol priest, who roasts up our best for his banquet. Oh my brothers, how could firstborn not be sacrifices! But our kind wants it so; and I love those who do not want to preserve themselves. Those who are going under I love with my whole love: because they are going over. - To be true - this few can do! And whoever can, does not yet want to! But least of all the good can do it. Oh these good! Good people never speak the truth ;for the spirit, being good in this manner is a disease. They give way, these good, they give themselves up, their heart repeats words, their ground obeys; but whoever obeys, he does not hear himself ! Everything that the good call evil must come together, in order to give birth to one truth; oh my brothers, are you also evil enough for this truth? Audacious daring, long mistrust, the cruel no, surfeit, the cutting into what is alive - how rarely this comes together! But from such semen truth is begotten! Side by side with bad conscience all science has grown so far. Break, break me these old tablets, you seekers of knowledge! If timbers span the water, if footbridges and railings leap over the river, then surely the one who says 'Everything is in flux' has no credibility. Third Part Instead, even the dummies contradict him. 'What?' say the dummies, 'everything is supposed to be in flux? But the timbers and the railings are over the river! Over the river everything is firm, all the values of things, the bridges, concepts, all 'good' and 'evil' - all of this is firm !' - Butwhenthehardwintercomes,thebeasttamerofrivers,theneventhe wittiest learn to mistrust, and, sure enough, then not only the dummies say: 'Should everything not stand still ?' 'Basically everything stands still' - that is a real winter doctrine, a good thing for sterile times, a good comfort for hibernators and stove huggers."}
{"text": "'Basically everything stands still' - but against this preaches the thaw wind! Thethawwind,abull that is no plowing bull - a raging bull, a destroyer that breaks ice with its wrathful horns! But ice breaks footbridges ! Yes my brothers, is everything not now in flux ? Have all railings and footbridges not fallen into the water? Who could still hang on to 'good' and 'evil'? 'Woe to us! Hail to us! The thaw wind is blowing!' - Preach me this, oh my brothers, in all the streets! There is an old delusion called good and evil. So far the wheel of this delusion has revolved around soothsayers and astrologers. Once people believed in soothsayers and astrologers, and therefore they believed 'Everything is fate: you should, because you must!' Thenlater people mistrusted all soothsayers and astrologers, and therefore they believed 'Everything is freedom: you can, because you want to!' Yes, my brothers, so far we have merely deluded ourselves, but not knownaboutthestarsandthefuture,and therefore wehavemerelydeluded ourselves, but not known about good and evil! 'Thou shalt not rob! Thou shalt not kill!' - such words were once held holy; before them one bent the knee, bowed the head and removed one's shoes. Thus Spoke Zarathustra But I ask you: where in the world have there ever been better robbers and killers than such holy words? Is there not in all life itself - robbing and killing? And for such words to have been called holy, was truth itself not - killed? Or was it a sermon of death that pronounced holy what contradicted and contravened all life? - Yes my brothers, break, break me the old tablets! This is my pity for everything past, that I see it is abandoned - - abandoned to the favor, the spirit, the madness of each generation that comes along, and interprets everything that was as the bridge to itself ! Agreat despot could come along, a shrewd monster, who with his favor and disfavor could force and forge the whole past, until it became a bridge to him, and omen and herald and harbinger."}
{"text": "But this is the other danger and my other pity: whoever is of the rabble, their remembrance goes no further back than their grandfather - and with their grandfather time ends. Thus all the past is abandoned; because it could happen one day that the rabble would become ruler and in its shallow water all time would drown. Therefore, my brothers, we need a new nobility , which is the adversary of all rabble and all despotic rule and which writes anew the word 'noble' on new tablets. Many noble ones are needed, to be sure, and many kinds of noble ones for nobility to exist ! Or, as I once spoke in parables: 'Precisely that is godliness, that there are gods but no God!' Ohmybrothers, I consecrate and conduct you to a new nobility: you shall be my begetters and growers and sowers of the future - - to be sure, not to a nobility that you could buy like the shopkeepers and with shopkeepers' gold, for everything that has a price has little value. Third Part Not where you come from shall constitute your honor from now on, but instead where you are going! Your will and your foot, which wants to go over and beyond yourself - let that constitute your new honor! Certainly not that you served a prince - what do princes matter anymore! Or that you became a bulwark for what stands, to make it to stand more firmly! Not that your kinfolk became courtiers at court, and learned to stand long hours like a colorful flamingo in shallow ponds. - For being able to stand is a merit among courtiers; and all courtiers believe that part of blessedness after death is being allowed to sit! Northat a spirit they called holy led your forefathers to promised lands, which I donotpraise; because where the worst of all trees grew, the cross there is nothing to praise about that land! And truly, wherever this 'holy ghost' led its knights, in such crusades goats and geese and pious crisscrossing contradictors ran in front ! Oh my brothers, your nobility should not look back, but out there !You should be exiles from all father- and forefatherlands! You should love your children's land ; let this love be your new nobility the undiscovered land in the furthest sea! For that land I command your sails to seek and seek!"}
{"text": "You should make it up in your children that you are the children of your fathers; thus you should redeem all that is past! This new tablet I place above you! 'Whylive? All is vain! Life - that is threshing straw; life - that is burning oneself and yet not getting warm.' Such archaic babble still passes for 'wisdom'; but it is honored more highly because it smells old and musty. Even mustiness ennobles. Children might speak like this: they fear fire because it burned them! There is much childishness in the old books of wisdom. And whoever is always 'threshing straw,' why should he be allowed to revile threshing? One really should muzzle such oxen! Such people sit down at the table and bring nothing along, not even a good appetite - and now they revile saying 'All is vain!' Thus Spoke Zarathustra But eating and drinking well, my brothers, is really no vain art! Break, break me the tablets of the never-glad! 'To the clean all is clean' - that is what folks say. But I say to you: 'to swine all becomes swine!' This is why the rapturous and the head-hangers, whose hearts also hang down, preach: 'The world itself is a filthy monster.' Because they are all unclean in spirit, especially those who have neither rest nor respite, unless they see the world from the hinter side - these hinterworldlings! To their faces I say, even if it does not sound kind: the world resembles a human being in that it has a behind that much is true! There is much filth in the world: that much is true! But the world itself is not therefore a filthy monster! There is wisdom in the fact that much in the world smells foul: nausea itself creates wings and water-divining powers! Even in the best there is something that nauseates; and the best is still something that must be overcome! Yes my brothers, there is much wisdom in the fact that there is much filth in the world! - Suchsayings I heard the pious hinterworldlings speak to their conscience, and truly, without malice and falseness - even though there is nothing more false in the world, nor more malicious. 'Just let the world be the world! Do not lift so much as a finger against it!'"}
{"text": "'If someone wants to strangle and stab and slice and dice the people, let him; do not lift so much as a finger against it! That way they will yet learn to renounce the world.' 'And your own reason - this you yourself should smother and strangle, because it is a reason of this world - that way you yourself will learn to renounce the world.' - - Break, break me these old tablets of the pious, my brothers! Gainsay me the sayings of the world slanderers! There sits the skiff - over there perhaps is the entryway to the great nothing. But who wants to board this 'perhaps'? None of you wants to board the death skiff! Then why do you want to be world-weary ! Thus Spoke Zarathustra World-weary! And you have not even become earth-alienated yet! I found you still lusting for the earth, still in love with your own earthly weariness! Not for nothing does your lip hang - a little earthly wish still sits on it! And in your eye - doesn't a little cloud of unforgotten earthly joy float there? There are many good inventions on earth, some useful, others pleasant, for whose sake the earth is lovable. And some of what is there has been invented so well that it is like a woman's breasts: useful and pleasant at the same time. But you world-weary! You earth-lazy! You should be flogged with switches! With floggings you should be made to step lively again. After all, if you are not misfits and moribund wretches of whom the earth is weary, then you are sly sloths or nibbling, creeping pleasure cats. And if you do not want to run again with gusto, then you should - pass away! Oneshould not try to be a physician for the incurable: thus Zarathustra teaches - and so you should pass away! But it takes more courage to make an end than to make a new verse: that all physicians and poets know. Ohmybrothers, there are tablets created by weariness, and tablets created by rotten laziness; even though they talk the same, still they want to be heard differently."}
{"text": "See this languishing specimen here! He is merely one span away from his goal, but out of weariness he has laid himself defiantly here in the dust - this valiant man! Out of weariness he yawns at the road and the earth and the goal and himself; not one more step will he take - this valiant one! Now the sun burns on him and the dogs lick at his sweat; but he lies there in his defiance and would rather die of thirst - - die of thirst one span away from his goal! Truly, you will yet have to drag him to his heaven by the hair - this hero! Better still, just let him lie where he has laid himself so that sleep can come to him, the comforter, with its cooling rushing rain: Thus Spoke Zarathustra Oh my brothers, am I perhaps cruel? But I say: if something is falling, one should also give it a push! Everything of today - it is falling, it is failing: who would want to stop it! But I - I want to push it too! Do you know the kind of lust that rolls stones down into steep depths? - These people of today; just look at how they roll into my depths! I am a prelude of better players, my brothers! An exemplary play! Act according to my example! And whomever you cannot teach to fly, him you should teach to fall faster ! Ilove the valiant, but it is not enough to be a fierce combatant - one must also know whom to combat! And often there is more valiance in someone controlling himself and passing by, so that he saves himself for the worthier enemy! You should have only those enemies whom you hate, but not enemies to despise; you must be proud of your enemy: this I taught you already once before. For the worthier enemy, my friends, you should save yourselves, and therefore you must pass by much - - especially pass by much rabble that thunders in your ears about folk and peoples. Keepyoureyeclear of their pros and cons! There is much justice, much injustice here; whoever watches becomes angry. Look around, beat them down - it's all the same here; therefore go away into the woods and lay your swords to sleep! Go your ways! And let folk and peoples go theirs! - dark ways, to be sure, on which not a single hope flashes anymore!"}
{"text": "Let the shopkeeper rule where all that is left to glitter - is shopkeepers' gold! The time of kings is no more; what calls itself a people today deserves no kings. Just look at how these peoples themselves do the same as the shopkeepers; they pluck themselves the tiniest advantage from any dustpan! They lie in wait for one another, they look in hate at one another - this they call 'good neighbors.' Oh happy distant time when a people said to themselves: 'I want to be ruler over peoples!' For the best should rule, my brothers, and the best also want to rule! And wherever the teaching says differently, there - the best are missing . If they had bread for free, oh no! What would they clamor for! Their sustainment - that is their real entertainment, and they should have it hard! They are beasts of prey: in their 'working' - preying is there too; in their 'earning' - outwitting is there too! Therefore they should have it hard! They should become better beasts of prey, more subtle, more clever, more human-like : the human being, after all, is the best beast of prey. Human beings have already successfully preyed upon the virtues of all animals; this is because human beings have had the hardest time of all animals. Only the birds are above him. And if human beings were to learn even to fly, watch out! How high - would his lust to prey fly! This is how I want man and woman: fit for war the one, fit for bearing children the other, but both fit to dance in head and limb. And let each day be a loss to us on which we did not dance once! And let each truth be false to us which was not greeted by one laugh!"}
{"text": "In taking your wedding vows - see to it that you are not making your bedding vows . Vowing too quickly results in - breaking vows! And better vow breaking than vow bending and vow pretending! A woman once said to me: 'Sure, I broke my wedding vows, but first my wedding vows broke me!' Theworstofthevengeful I always found to be the mismatched couples: they take it out on the whole world that they are no longer singles. Thus Spoke Zarathustra This is why I want honest people to speak honestly to one another: 'We love each other; let us see to it that we keep loving each other! Or did we promise by mistake?' - 'Give us a trial period and a small marriage, so that we can see whether we are fit for a big marriage! It is a big thing to always be in twos!' Thus I counsel all honest people; and what then would my love for the overman be, and for everything else that is to come, if I counseled and conveyed otherwise! Not merely to reproduce, but instead to sur produce - to that goal, my brothers, may the garden of marriage help you! Whoever has become wise about ancient origins will surely, in the end, seek new wells of the future and new origins. Yesmybrothers, it will not be overly long and new peoples will originate and new wells will roar down into new depths. An earthquake, after all - it buries many wells, it causes much dying of thirst: it also brings to light inner powers and secrets. An earthquake reveals new wells. In an earthquake of ancient peoples new wells break out. And whoever cries out there: 'Look, here is a fountain for many who thirst, a heart for many who long, a will for many tools' - around him gathers a people , that is: many who try. Whocan command, who must obey here it is tried ! Indeed, with what long searching and guessing and lack of success and learning and trying again! Human society: it is an experiment, this I teach - a long search: but it searches for the commander! - - an experiment, oh my brothers! And not a 'contract!' Break, break me such words of the soft hearted and half-and-halfs! My brothers! In whom does the greatest danger lie for all of future humanity? Is it not in the good and the just?"}
{"text": "Ohmybrothers, have you even understood these words? And what I once said about the 'last human being?' - In whom does the greatest danger lie for all of future humanity? Is it not in the good and the just? Break, break me the good and the just !-Ohmybrothers, have you even understood these words? Thus Spoke Zarathustra You flee from me? You are frightened? You tremble before these words? My brothers, when I told you to break the good and the tablets of the good, then for the first time I launched mankind onto their high seas. Andonly now the great fright comes to them, the great looking-around oneself, the great sickness, the great nausea, the great seasickness. False coasts and false securities were taught you by the good; in the lies of the good you were born and bielded. Everything has been duplicitous and twisted from the ground up by the good. But whoever discovered the land 'human being' also discovered the land 'human future.' Now you will be seafarers, brave and patient! Walk upright for once, my brothers, learn to walk upright! The sea is stormy: Many want to right themselves again on you. The sea is stormy: Everything is in the sea. Well then! Well now! You old salts! What fatherland! There our helm wants to steer, where our children's land is! Out there, stormier than the sea, storms our great longing! - 'Why so hard!' - the kitchen coal once said to the diamond. 'Are we not close relatives?' Why so soft? Oh my brothers, this I ask you: for are you not - my brothers? Why so soft, so retiring and yielding? Why is there so much denying and denial in your hearts? And so little destiny in your gazes? And if you do not want to be destinies and inexorable, how could you triumph with me? And if your hardness does not want to flash and undo and cut through, how could you one day create with me? The creators are hard after all. And it must seem like bliss to you to press your hand upon millennia as if upon wax - - bliss to write upon the will of millennia as if upon bronze - harder than bronze, more noble than bronze. Only the most noble is perfectly hard. This new tablet, my brothers, I place above you: become hard ! -"}
{"text": "Onemorningnotlongafterhisreturntohiscave,Zarathustrasprangfrom his bed like a madman, screamed with a terrifying voice and behaved as though someone else were lying on his bed, who did not want to get up. And Zarathustra's voice reverberated so much that his animals rushed to him frightened, and from every cave and hiding place neighboring on Zarathustra's cave, all the animals scurried away - flying, fluttering, crawling, leaping in whatever manner of foot or feather they were given. But Zarathustra said these words: Up, abysmal thought, out of my depths! I am your rooster and dawn, you sleepy worm: up! Up! My voice will yet crow you awake!"}
{"text": "Unsnap the straps of your ears: listen! Because I want to hear you! Up! Up! Here there is thunder enough to make even graves learn to listen! And wipe the sleep and all that befogs and blinds you from your eyes! Hear me with your eyes too: my voice is a remedy even for those born blind. And once you are awake, you shall remain awake eternally. It is not my manner to wake great-grandmothers from their sleep only to tell them go back to sleep! You stir, you stretch, you gasp? Up! Up! No gasping - you will speak to me! Zarathustra summons you, the godless one! I, Zarathustra, the advocate of life, the advocate of suffering, the advocate of the circle - you I summon, my most abysmal thought! Hail to me! You are coming - I hear you! My abyss speaks , I have unfolded my ultimate depth to the light! Hail to me! Here now! Give me your hand - ha! Let go! Haha! - Nausea, nausea, nausea - oh no! Scarcely had he spoken these words, however, when Zarathustra collapsed like a dead man and long remained as if dead. But when he came to he was pale and he trembled, still lying down, and for a long time he wanted neither to eat nor drink. This behavior lasted seven days; meanwhile, his animals did not leave his side day and night, unless the eagle flew out to fetch food. And whatever prey it fetched together it laid on Zarathustra's beduntil eventually Zarathustra lay among yellow and red berries, grapes, red apples, aromatic herbs and pine cones. At his feet, however, two lambs were spread out, which the eagle with difficulty had taken as prey from their shepherds. Finally, after seven days, Zarathustra sat up on his bed, picked up one of the red apples, smelled it, and found its aroma lovely. Then his animals believed the time had come to speak with him. 'Oh Zarathustra,' they said. 'Now you have been lying like this for seven days, with heavy eyes: do you not want at last to get on your feet?"}
{"text": "Step out of your cave: the world awaits you like a garden. The wind is playing with heady fragrances that make their way to you; and all brooks want to run after you. Thus Spoke Zarathustra And you - you have already made a hurdy-gurdy song of it? Now I lie here, weary still from this biting and spitting out, sick still from my own redemption. And you looked on at all of this ?Ohmyanimals, are you also cruel? Did you want to watch my great pain the way people do? For human beings are the cruelest animal. Tragic plays, bullfights and crucifixions have always made them feel best on earth; and when they invented hell for themselves, see here - it was their heaven on earth. When a great human being cries out - in a flash the little ones come running, and their tongues hang out with lasciviousness. But they call it their 'pity.' The little human being, especially the poet - how eagerly he puts his accusations against life into words! Hear him, but do not fail to hear the lust that is in all his accusing! Such accusers of life are overcome by life in a blink of an eye. 'You love me?' says the flirt. 'Wait just a while longer, I don't have time for you yet.' Thehumanbeingisthecruelest animal against itself; and with all those who call themselves 'sinner' and 'cross bearer' and 'penitent,' do not fail to hear the lust in such complaining and accusing! And I myself - do I want therefore to be the accuser of mankind? Oh my animals, this alone have I learned so far, that for mankind their most evil is necessary for their best - - that whatever is most evil is their best power and the hardest stone for the highest creator; and that mankind must become better and more evil - The cross on which I suffered was not that I know human beings are evil - instead, I cried as no one yet has cried: 'A shame that their most evil is so very small! A shame that their best is so very small!' My great surfeit of human beings that choked me and crawled into my throat; and what the soothsayer said: 'All is the same, nothing is worth it, knowledge chokes.'"}
{"text": "Alongtwilight limped ahead of me, a tired to death and drunk to death sadness that spoke with a yawning mouth: 'Eternally he returns, the human of whom you are weary, the small human being' - thus my sadness yawned and dragged its foot and could not fall asleep. Third Part For me the human earth transformed into a cave, its chest caved in; everything living became human mold and bones and crumbling past. My sighing sat upon all human graves and could no longer stand up; my sighing and questioning croaked and choked and gnashed and lashed day and night: - 'alas, human beings recur eternally! The small human beings recur eternally!' - Naked I once saw them both, the greatest human and the smallest human:all too similar to one another - all too human still even the greatest one! All too small the greatest one! That was my surfeit of humans! And eternal recurrence of even the smallest! - That was my surfeit of all existence! Oh nausea! Nausea! Nausea!' - Thus spoke Zarathustra and sighed and shuddered, because he remembered his sickness. But his animals did not allow him to continue. 'Speak no more, you convalescent!' - answered his animals. 'Rather go outside where the world awaits you like a garden. Go outside to the roses and bees and swarms of doves! Especially to the song birds, so that you can learn to sing from them! Singing after all is for convalescents, let the healthy person talk. And even if the healthy person also wants songs, he wants different songs than the convalescent.' - 'Oh you foolish rascals and barrel organs, shut up!' - answered Zarathustra, and he smiled at his animals. 'How well you know which comfort I invented for myself in seven days! That I must sing once again this comfort I invented for myself and this convalescence; but do you want to make that into a hurdy-gurdy song right away too?' - 'Speak no more,' answered his animals again. 'Instead, you convalescent, fashion yourself a lyre first, a new lyre! Behold oh Zarathustra! For your new songs new lyres are needed."}
{"text": "Sing and foam over, Zarathustra; heal your soul with new songs so that you can bear your great destiny, which was never before a human's destiny! For your animals know well, oh Zarathustra, who you are and must become; behold, you are the teacher of the eternal recurrence - that now is your destiny! That you must teach this teaching as the first - how could this great destiny not also be your greatest danger and sickness! Behold, we know what you teach: that all things recur eternally and we ourselves along with them, and that we have already been here times eternal and all things along with us. You teach that there is a great year of becoming, a monster of a great year; like an hourglass it must turn itself over anew, again and again, so that it runs down and runs out anew - - so that all these years are the same as each other, in what is greatest and also in what is smallest - so that we ourselves in every great year are the same, in what is greatest and also in what is smallest. And if you wanted to die now, oh Zarathustra: behold, we know too how you would speak to yourself then: - but your animals beg you not to die yet! You would speak and without trembling, rather taking a deep breath, blissfully; for a great weight and oppressiveness would be taken from you, you most patient one! 'Now I die and disappear,' you would say, 'and in an instant I will be a nothing. Souls are as mortal as bodies. But the knot of causes in which I am entangled recurs - it will create me again! I myself belong to the causes of the eternal recurrence. I will return, with this sun, with this earth, with this eagle, with this snake not to a new life or a better life or a similar life: -Iwill return to this same and selfsame life, in what is greatest as well as in what is smallest, to once again teach the eternal recurrence of all things - -toonceagain speak the word about the great earth of noon and human beings, to once again proclaim the overman to mankind. I spoke my word, I break under my word: thus my eternal fate wills it - as proclaimer I perish!"}
{"text": "The hour has now come for the one who goes under to bless himself. Thus ends Zarathustra's going under!'' - When the animals had spoken these words they fell silent and waited for Zarathustra to say something to them: but Zarathustra did not hear that they were silent. Instead he lay still, with eyes closed, like someone sleeping - even though he was not sleeping. Indeed, at this moment he was conversing with his soul. The snake and the eagle, however, finding Third Part him silent in this manner, honored the great stillness around him and cautiously slipped away."}
{"text": "Oh my soul, I taught you to say 'today' and 'once' and 'formerly,' and to dance your round over all here and then and there. Oh my soul, I redeemed you from all nooks, I swept dust, spiders and twilight off of you. Oh my soul, I washed the petty bashfulness and the nook-virtue from you and persuaded you to stand naked before the eyes of the sun. With the storm called 'spirit' I blew over your choppy sea; I blew all clouds away, I even choked the choker who is called 'sin.' Oh my soul, I gave you the right to say no like the storm and to say yes as the open sky says yes: still as light you now stand and even if you pass through storms of denial. Oh my soul, I gave you back your freedom over what is created and uncreated: and who knows as you know the lust of future things? Oh my soul, I taught you contempt that does not come like a gnawing worm, the great, loving contempt that loves most where it has the most contempt. Oh my soul, I taught you to persuade such that you persuade even the grounds; like the sun that persuades even the sea into its heights. Oh my soul, I took from you all obeying, knee-bending and sir-saying; I myself gave you the name 'turning point of need' and 'destiny.' Ohmysoul, I gave you new names and colorful playthings, I called you 'destiny' and 'compass of compasses' and 'umbilical cord of time' and 'azure bell.' Oh my soul, to your soil I gave all wisdom to drink, all new wines and also all old strong wines of wisdom from time immemorial. Oh my soul, I poured every sun upon you and every night and every silence and every longing - then you grew up for me like a grapevine. Oh my soul, super-rich and heavy you stand there now, a grapevine with swelling udders and crowded, brownish gold grapes - - crowded and crushed by your happiness, waiting out of superabundance and even bashful because of your waiting. Thus Spoke Zarathustra Oh my soul, nowhere now is there a soul that could be more loving and more compassing and encompassing! Where would future and past be closer together than in you?"}
{"text": "Ohmysoul,Igaveyoueverythingandall my hands have become empty on you - and now! Now you say to me smiling and full of melancholy: 'Who of us is supposed to be thankful? - does the giver not have to give thanks that the receiver received? Is bestowing not a bare necessity? Is receiving not - mercy?' Ohmysoul, I understand the smiling of your melancholy: your superrichness itself reaches out with longing hands! Your fullness gazes out over roaring seas and searches and waits; the longing of over-fullness gazes smilingly from your sky-like eyes! And truly, oh my soul! Who could see your smile and not melt into tears! The angels themselves melt into tears at the super-goodness of your smile. It is your goodness and super-goodness that do not want to lament and weep; and yet, oh my soul, your smile longs for tears and your trembling mouth for sobs. 'Is not all weeping a lamentation? And is not all lamentation an accusation?' This is how you speak to yourself, and this is why, oh my soul, you would rather smile than pour out your suffering - - pour out your suffering in gushing tears over your fullness and over all the aching of the grapevine for the vintner and his knife! But if you do not want to weep and weep out your purple melancholy, then you must sing ,ohmysoul! - Look, I too smile for telling you this in advance: - sing with a roaring song until all seas become silent, to listen for your longing - -until the skiff floats over silent longing seas, the golden wonder around whose gold all good and bad and wonderful things hop - - even many great and small animals and everything that has light, wondrous feet, and can run on paths of violet blue - - over to the golden wonder, the voluntary skiff and to its master: but he is the vintner who waits with his diamond knife - -your great redeemer, oh my soul, the nameless one - for whom only future songs will find a name! And truly, your breath is fragrant already with future songs! -"}
{"text": "Where are you pulling me now, you standout and upstart? And now you flee me again, sweet wildcat, thankless heart! I dance after you, and follow your trail using any clue. Where are you? Give me your hand! Even a finger will do! Here are caves and thickets, we could get lost in there! - Stop! Stand still! Do you not see owls and bats in the air? You owls! You bats! This leaves you in stitches? Where are we? Such howling and yelping you learned from the bitches. You gnash at me sweetly with little white teeth; your curly little mane, evil eyes peeking out from beneath! This is a dance moving every which way; I am the hunter - are you my hound or my prey? Next to me now! And quick, you evil little jumper! Up now! And over! - Oh no! I slipped and now I'm on my rump here! Oh see me lying, miss mischief, have mercy on me! There are paths to sweet places - where I would rather be! - Paths of love through silent blooming plants! Or down there along the lake, where goldfish swim and dance! Are you weary now? Over there are sheep and sunset-swoons; is it not sweet to sleep when shepherds play their tunes? Are you so bitter weary! I will carry you there, just relax and let your arms sink! And if you thirst - I have something, but nothing you would drink! - - Oh this cursed clever, supple snake and slippery witch! Gone without a trace? But left behind, and left by hand, I feel two red spots on my face! I am truly tired of always playing your sheepish shepherd pal! You witch, if I have so far sung for you, now you for me will - yell! To the beat of my whip you will dance so and yell so! But did I forget the whip? - Oh no! - Then life answered me like this and covered her dainty little ears: 'OhZarathustra! Please do not crack your whip so fearfully! Surely you know: noise murders thoughts - and just now the most tender thoughts are coming to me."}
{"text": "From deepest dream I made my way -, 1 = Four!. , 1 = Five!. The world is deep,, 1 = . And deeper than the grasp of day., 1 = Seven!. Joy - deeper still than misery:, 1 = . Pain says: refrain!, 1 = Nine!. , 1 = Ten!. - wants deep, wants deep eternity!', 1 = Eleven!. , 1 = Twelve! The Seven Seals (Or: the Yes and Amen Song) If I am a soothsayer and full of that soothsaying spirit that hikes on a high pass between two seas - hikes between the past and the future as a heavy cloud - the enemy of oppressive lowlands and everything that is weary and can neither die nor live: ready in its dark bosom for lightning and for the redeeming ray of light, pregnant with lightning bolts that say Yes! and laugh Yes! to soothsaying bolts of lightning - - but blessed is the one who is pregnant like this! And truly, whoever will one day kindle the light of the future must hang long on the mountain like a heavy storm! - oh how then could I not lust for eternity and for the nuptial ring of rings - the ring of recurrence! Never yet have I found the woman from whom I wanted children, unless it were this woman whom I love: for I love you, oh eternity! For I love you, oh eternity! If my wrath ever broke open graves, moved boundary stones and rolled old broken tablets down into steep depths: If my scorn ever blew apart moldy words, and I came upon the cross spiders like a broom, and as a sweeping wind to old musty burial chambers: If I ever sat jubilating where old gods lie buried, blessing the world, loving the world next to the monuments of ancient world maligners - - because I love even churches and God's graves once the sky's pure eye gazes through their broken roofs; gladly do I sit like grass and red poppies on broken churches - Oh how then could I not lust for eternity and for the nuptial ring of rings - the ring of recurrence! Never yet have I found the woman from whom I wanted children, unless it were this woman whom I love: for I love you, oh eternity! For I love you, oh eternity!"}
{"text": "If ever a breath came to me of creative breath and of that heavenly necessity that forces even accidents to dance astral rounds: If ever I laughed with the laugh of creative lightning that follows rumbling but obediently the long thunder of the deed: If ever I rolled dice with gods at the gods' table of the earth, so that the earth quaked and ruptured and snorted up rivers of fire - - because the earth is a gods' table, and it trembles with creative new words and gods' throws - Oh how then could I not lust for eternity and for the nuptial ring of rings - the ring of recurrence! Never yet have I found the woman from whom I wanted children, unless it were this woman whom I love: for I love you, oh eternity! For I love you, oh eternity! If ever I drank my fill from that foaming mug of mixed spices, in which all good things are mixed: Third Part Thus Spoke Zarathustra If my hand ever poured the farthest to the closest and fire to spirit and joy to sorrow and the most wicked to the kindest: If I myself am a grain of that redeeming salt that makes all things in the mixing mug mix well - - because there is a salt that binds good with evil; and even what is most evil is worthy as a spice and for the final foaming over - Oh how then could I not lust for eternity and for the nuptial ring of rings - the ring of recurrence! Never yet have I found the woman from whom I wanted children, unless it were this woman whom I love: for I love you, oh eternity! For I love you, oh eternity! If I favor the sea and everything that is of the sea, and even favor it most when it angrily contradicts me: If ever that joy of searching is in me that drives sails toward the undiscovered, if a seafarer's joy is in my joy: If ever my jubilating cried: 'The coast disappeared - now the last chain has fallen from me - - infinity roars around me, way out there space and time glitter, well then, what of it old heart!' - Oh how then could I not lust for eternity and for the nuptial ring of rings - the ring of recurrence!"}
{"text": "Never yet have I found the woman from whom I wanted children, unless it were this woman whom I love: for I love you, oh eternity! For I love you, oh eternity! If my virtue is a dancer's virtue and I often leaped with both feet into golden emerald delight: If my malice is a laughing malice, at home beneath rosy slopes and lily hedges: - for in laughter everything evil is together, but pronounced holy and absolved by its own bliss: And if that is my alpha and omega, that all heaviness becomes light, all body dancer, all spirit bird - and truly, that is my alpha and omega! -"}
{"text": "Oh how then could I not lust for eternity and for the nuptial ring of rings - the ring of recurrence! Never yet have I found the woman from whom I wanted children, unless it were this woman whom I love: for I love you, oh eternity! For I love you, oh eternity! If ever I spread silent skies above me and flew into my own sky with my own wings: If I playfully swam in deep expanses of light, and my freedom's birdwisdom came - - but bird-wisdom speaks like this: 'See, there is no up, no down! Throw yourself around, out, back you light one! Sing! Speak no more! -are not all words made for the heavy? Do not all words lie to the light? Sing! Speak no more!' - Oh how then could I not lust for eternity and for the nuptial ring of rings - the ring of recurrence! Never yet have I found the woman from whom I wanted children, unless it were this woman whom I love: for I love you, oh eternity! For I love you, oh eternity!"}
{"text": "Oh, where in the world has greater folly occurred than among the pitying? And what in the world causes more suffering than the folly of the pitying? Woe to all lovers who do not yet have an elevation that is above their pitying! Thus the devil once spoke to me: 'Even God has his hell: it is his love for mankind.' Andrecently I heard him say these words: 'God is dead; God died of pity for mankind.' Zarathustra , 'On the Pitying' ( , p. )."}
{"text": "- And again moons and years passed over Zarathustra's soul and he took no notice of it; but his hair had turned white. One day as he sat on a stone before his cave and gazed outward - there where one looks out upon the sea and beyond twisting abysses - his animals walked around him pensively until finally they stood before him. 'Oh Zarathustra,' they said. 'Are you perhaps on the lookout for your happiness?' - 'What does happiness matter!' he answered. 'I haven't strived for happiness for a long time, I strive for my work.' - 'Oh Zarathustra,' said the animals again. 'You say that as one who has had overly much of the good. Do you not lie in a sky-blue lake of happiness?' - 'You foolish rascals,' answered Zarathustra, smiling. 'How well you chose your metaphor! But you also know that my happiness is heavy and not like a fluid wave of water; it presses me and will not leave me alone and it acts like melted tar.' -"}
{"text": "Then the animals again walked around him pensively and once more they stood before him. 'Oh Zarathustra,' they said, 'is that why you yourself are becoming ever yellower and darker, even though your hair looks white and flaxen? Don't you see, you are bogged down in your misfortune!' - 'What are you saying, my animals?' said Zarathustra, and helaughed.'Truly,IsmearedwhenIusedthewordtar.What'shappening to me is common to all fruits that ripen. It's the honey in my veins that makes my blood thicker and also makes my soul calmer.' - 'It will be as you say, oh Zarathustra,' answered the animals, and they pressed up against him. 'But do you not want to climb a high mountain today? The air is pure and today one sees more of the world than ever before.' - 'Yes, myanimals,' he answered. 'Your advice is superb and after my own heart: Idowant to climb a high mountain today! But see to it that there is honey at hand for me there; yellow, white, good, icy fresh golden honey from the comb. Because know this: I want to offer the honey sacrifice up there.' - But when Zarathustra was up on the summit he sent home the animals which had accompanied him, and he found that he was alone now - then he laughed with his whole heart, looked around and spoke thus: That I spoke of sacrifices and honey sacrifices was merely a sleight of speech and, truly, a useful folly! Up here I may speak more freely than before hermits' caves and hermits' pets."}
{"text": "What sacrifice! I squander what was bestowed me, I the squanderer with a thousand hands: How could I call that - sacrificing! And when I desired honey I merely desired bait and sweet ooze and mucus, for which even growling bears and odd, surly, evil birds lick with their tongues: - the best bait, as it is needed by hunters and fishermen. Because if the world is like a dark jungle and a pleasure garden for all wild hunters, to me it seems even more, and preferably, an abysmal rich sea, -asea full of colorful fishes and crabs, for whose sake even gods would crave to become fishermen and net casters: so rich is the world in odd things great and small! Especially the human world, the human sea - toward it I now cast my golden fishing rod and say: open up, you human abyss! Open up and toss me your fishes and glittering crabs! With my best bait today I bait the oddest human fishes! - my very happiness I cast far and wide, between sunrise, noon and sunset, to see if many human fishes learn to jiggle and wiggle on my happiness. Until, biting on my sharp hidden hooks, they have to emerge into my height, the motliest gorge gudgeons to the most spiteful of all fishers of human fish. That's what I am, after all, at bottom and from the start; reeling, reeling in, raising up, raising, a raiser, a cultivator and taskmaster who not for nothing once told himself: 'Become who you are!' So now human beings may come up to me; you see, I am still waiting for the sign that it is time for my descent; I myself will not go under yet, as I must, and among human beings. That's why I'm waiting here, cunning and mocking on high mountains, not impatient, not patient, but instead one who has forgotten even forbearance - because he no longer 'bears.' Mydestiny leaves me time for this: surely it has forgotten me? Or does it sit behind a big rock in the shade, catching flies? And really, I like my eternal destiny for not rushing and pressing me and for leaving me time for jests and spite, so that today I climbed this high mountain to catch fish."}
{"text": "Didahumanbeingevercatchfishonhighmountains?Andevenifwhat I want and do up here is folly, this is still better than becoming pompous and green and gold down there from waiting - Fourth and Final Part - a swaggering wrath snorter from waiting, a holy, howling mountain storm, an impatient one who cries down into the valleys: 'Hear me, or I shall whip you with the lash of God!' Not that I would grudge such angry men for it; they are good enough for me to laugh at! They have to be impatient anyway, these big noisy drums, who either get to speak today or never! But I and my destiny - we do not speak to today, nor do we speak to never: we have patience enough and time and overtime for speaking. Because it must come someday and may not pass by. What must come someday and may not pass by? Our great Hazar , that is our great distant human empire, the Zarathustra empire of a thousand years - How distant might such a 'distance' be? What do I care! But it is no less firm to me on that account - with both feet I stand firmly on this ground, -onaneternal ground, on hard primeval rock, on this highest, hardest primeval mountain chain, to which all winds come as if to a weathershed, asking Where? and from Where? and Where to? Laugh, laugh here my bright hearty spite! Throw down your glittering, mockinglaughterfromhighmountains!Baitmethemostbeautifulhuman fish with your glittering! And whatever in all the seas belongs to me , my actual me in all things - fish that out for me, bring that up to me - that's what I am waiting for, I the most spiteful of all fishermen. Out, out my fishing rod! Into and down, bait of my happiness! Drip your sweetest dew, my heart's honey! Bite, my fishing rod, into the belly of all black gloom! Out there, out there my eye! Oh how many seas surround me, what dawning human futures! And above me - what rosy red stillness! What cloudless silence!"}
{"text": "The next day Zarathustra again sat on the stone before his cave, while the animals roamed about in the world to bring home new nourishment - and new honey too, because Zarathustra had spent and squandered the old honey to the last drop. But as he sat there like this, with a stick in his hand and tracing the outline of his shadow on the ground, reflecting Thus Spoke Zarathustra and, truly, not about himself and his shadow - then all at once he was frightened and startled, because next to his own shadow he saw another shadow. And as he quickly looked around and stood up, there was the soothsayer standing next to him, the same one whom he had wined and dined at his table, the proclaimer of the great weariness who taught: 'All is the same, nothing is worth it, the world is without meaning, knowledge chokes.' But his face had transformed in the meantime; and when Zarathustra looked him in the eyes, his heart was frightened again - so many grave proclamations and ashen gray lightning bolts animated this face. The soothsayer, who read what was going on in Zarathustra's soul, wiped his hand over his face as if he wanted to wipe it away; Zarathustra did the same. And when both had silently composed and strengthened themselves in this manner, they shook hands as a sign that they wanted to recognize one another."}
{"text": "'Welcome,' said Zarathustra, 'you soothsayer of the great weariness; not for nothing were you once a guest at my table. Eat and drink with me today too, and forgive that a contented old man joins you at the table!' 'A contented old man?' answered the soothsayer, shaking his head. 'Whoever you are or want to be, oh Zarathustra, you've been that long enough up here - in a short time your skiff will no longer be on the rocks!' - 'Am I on the rocks then?' asked Zarathustra, laughing. - 'The waves around your mountain,' answered the soothsayer, 'rise and rise; the waves of great distress and gloom: soon they will lift your skiff as well and carry you away.' - Zarathustra was silent on hearing this and surprised. - 'Do you not hear anything yet?' continued the soothsayer. 'Is there not a rushing and roaring up from the depths?' - Zarathustra kept silent and listened; then he heard a long, long cry that the abysses threw back and forth to each other, as if none wanted to keep it - so evil did it sound. 'You wicked proclaimer,' spoke Zarathustra at last. 'That's a cry of distress and the cry of a human being, even if it comes out of a black sea. But what is human distress to me! My final sin, the one saved up for me - do you know what it's called?' - ' Pity !' answered the soothsayer from his overflowing heart, and he raised both hands high - 'oh Zarathustra, I come to seduce you to your last sin!' - Fourth and Final Part And scarcely had these words been spoken when the cry rang out again, and longer and more anxious than before, also much closer now. 'Do you hear? Do you hear, oh Zarathustra?' cried the soothsayer. 'The cry is meant for you, it calls you: come, come, come, it is time, it is high time!' - Zarathustra was silent after this, confused and shaken; finally he asked, like one who hesitates inwardly: 'And who is it there that calls me?'"}
{"text": "'But you know it already,' answered the soothsayer vehemently. 'Why do you conceal yourself? It is the higher man who calls for you!' 'The higher man?' cried Zarathustra, seized by horror. 'What does he want? What does he want? The higher man! What does he want here?' - And his skin was bathed in sweat. But the soothsayer did not respond to Zarathustra's fear, and instead he listened and listened toward the depths. But after it was quiet there for a long time, he turned his glance back and saw Zarathustra standing and trembling. 'Oh Zarathustra,' he began with a sad voice. 'You do not stand there like one whose happiness makes him giddy: you will have to dance to keep from falling down! But even if you were to dance before me and leap all your side-leaps, no one should be allowed to tell me: 'Look, here dances the last gay human being!' Anyone who came to this height looking for him would come in vain; caves he would find, to be sure, and hinter-caves, hiding places for hiders, but no shafts of happiness and treasure chambers and new golden veins of happiness. Happiness - how could anyone find happiness among those who are buried away and hermits? Must I seek the last happiness far away on blessed isles between forgotten seas? But all is the same, nothing is worth it, searching does not help, and there are no blessed isles anymore!' - Thus sighed the soothsayer; but at his last sigh Zarathustra became bright and certain once more, like someone who comes from a deep chasm into the light. 'No! No! No! Three times no!' he cried in a strong voice, stroking his beard. ' That I know better! There are still blessed isles! Be silent about that , you sighing sadsack! Thus Spoke Zarathustra Stop splashing about that , you rain cloud of the morning! Do I not already stand here soaked by your gloom and drenched like a dog? Now I'll shake myself and run away from you, so that I can dry off again; that shouldn't surprise you! Do I seem discourteous to you? But this is my court."}
{"text": "But as far as your higher man is concerned: let's go! I'll search for him right now in those woods from there his cry came. Perhaps he is beset by some evil beast. He is in my territory, and in here he shall not come to harm! And truly, there are many evil beasts in my territory.' - With these words Zarathustra turned to leave. Then the soothsayer spoke: 'Oh Zarathustra, you are a rogue! I already know that you want to get rid of me! You would rather run into the woods and pursue evil beasts! But what will it help you? By evening you will have me again anyway, I will be sitting in your own cave, patient and heavy like a block - and I will be waiting for you!' 'So be it!' called Zarathustra over his shoulder as he departed. 'And whatever is mine in my cave, it belongs to you too, my guest! But if you should find honey in there, good! Then just lick it up, you old growling bear, and sweeten your soul! Because by evening we will both want to be in a good mood, - in a good mood and glad that this day came to an end! And you yourself will dance to my songs as my dancing bear. You don't believe it? You shake your head? Well then! We'll see, old bear! But I too am - a soothsayer.' Thus spoke Zarathustra."}
{"text": "Zarathustra had been underway in his mountains and woods for not even one hour when all at once he saw a strange procession. On precisely the path he wanted to take down, two kings came walking, adorned with crowns and purple sashes and as colorful as flamingoes; before them they drove a burdened ass. 'What do these kings want in my kingdom?' spoke Zarathustra to his astonished heart, and he hid himself quickly behind a Fourth and Final Part bush. But when the kings caught up to him he said, half out loud like a person talking to himself: 'Strange! Strange! What rhyme or reason can this have? I see two kings - and only one ass!' Then the two kings stopped, smiled, looked toward the place from which the voice had come and then turned to face one another. 'Such things are also thought among us,' said the king to the right, 'but one does not speak it.' But the king to the left shrugged his shoulders and answered: 'It's probably a goatherd. Or a hermit who has lived too long among cliffs and trees. After all, no society at all also ruins good manners.' 'Good manners?' retorted the other king indignantly and bitterly. 'Then what are we trying to run away from? Is it not 'good manners'? Is it not our 'good society?' Better, truly, to live among hermits and goatherds than live with our gilded, fake, make-up wearing rabble - even if it calls itself 'good society,' - even if it calls itself 'nobility.' But there everything is fake and foul, starting with the blood, thanks to old diseases and even worse healers. Best and dearest to me today is still a healthy peasant, coarse, cunning, stubborn, enduring: that is the most noble type today. The peasant today is the best; and peasant-type should be ruler! But it is the kingdom of the rabble - I will not be deceived anymore. Rabble now, that means: mishmash. Rabble mishmash: in it everything is jumbled together, saint and scoundrel and Junker and Jew and every beast from the ark of Noah."}
{"text": "Good manners! Everything among us is fake and foul. No one knows how to revere anymore that precisely is what we are running away from. They are mawkish, obtrusive dogs, they are gilders of palm leaves. This nausea chokes me, that we kings ourselves became fake, decked out and dressed up in old yellowed grandfathers' pomp, medals for the most moronic and the slyest and whoever the hell haggles today for power! We are not the first - and yet we must signify that we are: it is this deception that we have finally had enough of, that nauseates us. We got away from the riffraff, all these screamers and scribble-blowflies, all the shopkeeper stench, all the twitching ambition, all the bad breath phooey to living among the riffraff, - phooey to signifying the first among the riffraff! Oh nausea! Nausea! Nausea! What do we kings matter anymore!' - Thus Spoke Zarathustra 'Your old illness befalls you again,' said now the king on the left. 'Nausea befalls you, my poor brother. But you know too that someone is listening to us.' At once Zarathustra, whose ears and eyes had opened wide at this conversation, rose from his hiding place, approached the kings and began: 'The one who listens to you, who listens gladly to you, you kings, is called Zarathustra. I am Zarathustra, who once spoke: 'What do kings matter anymore!' Forgive me, I was so pleased when you said to one another: 'What do we kings matter!' But here is my realm and my rule: what might you be seeking now in my realm? Or perhaps you have found along the way what I am seeking, namely the higher man.' When the kings heard this they beat their breasts and exclaimed with one voice: 'We have been found out! With the sword of your words you strike through our hearts' thickest darkness. You discover our distress, for behold! We are on our way to find the higher man - - the man who is higher than we, even though we are kings. To him we lead this ass. The highest man, you see, should be the highest ruler on earth."}
{"text": "There is no harder misfortune in all human destiny than when the powerful of the earth are not also the first human beings. Then everything becomes fake and crooked and monstrous. And should they even be last and more beast than human; then the rabble rises and rises in price, until finally even rabble virtue speaks: 'Behold, I alone am virtue!'' - 'What did I just hear?' answered Zarathustra. 'What wisdom among kings! I am delighted, and truly, I'm already in the mood to make a rhyme of it: - - even if it turns out to be a rhyme that is not suitable for everyone's ears. Long ago I gave up being considerate of long ears. Well then! Well now! (But here it happened that the ass too got in a word; and clearly and malevolently he said hee-yaw.) Once - I think in anno domini one The Sybil said, drunk, though wine she'd had none: 'Oh no, how badly things go!"}
{"text": "Decline! Decline! The world has sunk so low! Rome sank to whore and to a whorehouse too, Rome's Caesar to beast, God himself - turned Jew!'' The kings were enchanted by these rhymes of Zarathustra, but the king to the right spoke: 'Oh Zarathustra, how well we did in going forth to see you! Foryour enemies showed us your image in their mirror: there you were withyourdevil'sgrimaceandlaughingscornfully,suchthatwewereafraid of you. But what good did it do? Again and again you pricked our ears and hearts with your sayings, then we said at last: what does it matter how he looks! We have to hear him, the one who teaches 'you shall love peace as a means to new wars, and the short peace more than the long one!' Noonehaseverspokensuchwarlikewords:'Whatisgood?Beingbrave is good. The good war hallows any cause.'"}
{"text": "The frequent quotes of Zarathustra throughout Part are not verbatim but close enough to indicate that Zarathustra's words have caught on and are being interpreted with varying degrees of success. Parts and appeared in , Part was written later in and early , and published in - it was intended as the final part of TSZ. Part was originally planned as a separate work under the title 'Noon and Eternity,' but Nietzsche found no publisher for it, and decided instead to make it the fourth part of TSZ and to publish it at his own expense. Part appeared in only copies in , and was distributed to friends only. In the first edition of TSZ Parts - appeared; the complete work in four parts did not appear until . When Nietzsche boasts in Ecce Homo ( Kritische Studienausgabe : ) that he needed no more than ten days to finish each part of TSZ, the information is misleading if we do not also consider his method of composition. The ten-day periods do not refer to the idea and its execution in the various parables, speeches, frame narratives, characters etc, i.e. each part did not take ten days from start to finish. This can be illustrated by the fact that the final aphorism of The Gay Science , as well as notes from the period, already deal with Zarathustra. Instead, Nietzsche constantly worked out various drafts related to the basic Zarathustra idea, often even during his long walks, and these he copied into larger notebooks at home. When he sat down to compose one of the parts of TSZ, it then took him approximately ten days to structure his already existing material into its finished literary form (see Kritische Studienausgabe : - ). When Nietzsche speaks in Ecce Homo of his phenomenal inspiration, and how ideas simply flooded over and through him ('I never had a choice,' Kritische Studienausgabe : ), this should not be taken to mean that he experienced four ten-day periods of Zarathustra inspiration. Nietzsche, Jung, Kaufmann all appear to have contributed to this myth. Part differs structurally from the earlier parts but also in tone; it represents a very sober 'revisiting' of the original work, a retreat from the teaching and preaching, includes several 'dithyrambs' later revised and added to the Dionysus Dithyrambs , and displays a narrowscopeofinteraction with only"}
{"text": "'higher men.' Notably it takes place entirely on Zarathustra's mountain."}
{"text": "Oh Zarathustra, our fathers' blood stirred in our bodies at the sound of such words; it was like the speech of springtime to old casks of wine. When swords ran every which way like red-stained snakes, our fathers warmed to life; the sun of all peace seemed limp and lackluster to them, but the long peace caused them shame. Howtheysighed, our fathers, when they saw gleaming bright, dried up swords on the wall! Like them, they thirsted for war. For a sword wants to drink blood and sparkles with desire.' - -Asthe kings talked in this manner and gabbed enthusiastically about the happiness of their fathers, Zarathustra was overcome by no small desire to mock their enthusiasm; after all, these were visibly very peaceful kings he saw standing before him, the kind with old and refined faces. But he restrained himself. 'Well then!' he said. 'The path leads there, Zarathustra's cave lies there, and this day shall also have a long evening! But now a cry of distress hurries me away from you. It will honor my cave if kings want to sit and wait in it, but, to be sure, you will have to wait long! Alright! What's the harm? Where does one learn to wait better today than at court? And the whole virtue of kings that is left to them - is it not today called: being able to wait?' Thus spoke Zarathustra."}
{"text": "And Zarathustra walked on pensively, farther and deeper through woods and past swampy valleys; but as happens to anyone who reflects on grave matters, he unintentionally stepped on someone. And behold, all at once he was sprayed in the face with one scream of pain and two curses and twenty wicked invectives, such that in his fright he raised his staff and also started beating the man he had just stepped on. Immediately thereupon he gained his composure, and his heart laughed at the folly that he had just committed. 'Forgive me,' he said to the man he had stepped on, who stood up grimly and then sat down. 'Forgive and partake, above all, in a parable first. Of how a wanderer who is dreaming of distant things unintentionally stumbles over a sleeping dog on a lonely lane, a dog lying in the sun: Fourth and Final Part - how both startle then, and attack each other like deathly enemies, these two who are scared to death: so it went with us too. Andyet! And yet - how little was missing and they would have caressed each other, this dog and this lonely man! Are they not after all both lonely!' - 'Whoever you may be,' said the stepped on man, still grimly, 'you step on my dignity with your parable too, and not only with your foot! See here, am I some kind of dog?' - and then the sitting man got up and pulled his bare arm out of the swamp. Because at first he had lain stretched out on the ground, hidden and unrecognizable like those who lie in wait for swamp quarry. 'But what in blazes are you doing!' cried Zarathustra, shocked. For he saw that much blood was flowing over the man's bare arm. 'You wretch, did some wicked beast bite you?' The bleeding man laughed, but still angrily. 'What concern is it of yours!' he said, and made to leave. 'Here I am at home and in my territory. Anyone who wants may question me, but I will hardly answer a stumbling fool.' 'You are mistaken,' said Zarathustra, with pity, and he held on to him. 'You are mistaken: here you are not in your home, but in my realm, and in here no one comes to harm."}
{"text": "Meanwhile call me whatever you want - I am who I must be. I call myself Zarathustra. Well then! Up there is the path to Zarathustra's cave; it isn't far wouldn't you like to care for your wounds at my place? Things have gone badly for you in this life, you wretch; first you were bitten by the beasts, and then - you were stepped on by a human being!' - But when the stepped on man heard the name of Zarathustra, he transformed. 'What is happening to me!' he cried out. ' Who concerns me anymore in this life other than this one person, namely Zarathustra, and that one animal that lives off blood, the leech? For the leech's sake I lay here at this swamp like a fisher, and already my outstretched arm had been bitten ten times, then an even more beautiful leech bites on my blood, Zarathustra himself! Oh happiness! Oh miracle! Praised be the day that lured me to this swamp! Praised be the best, liveliest cupping glass living today, praised be the great conscience-leech Zarathustra!' - Thus Spoke Zarathustra Thus spoke the stepped on man; and Zarathustra was pleased at his words and their fine, respectful manner. 'Who are you?' he said, and offered him his hand. 'Between us there is much to clear up and to cheer up; but already it seems to me the day is growing pure and bright.' 'I am the conscientious of spirit ,' answered the man, 'and in matters of the spirit one can hardly be more rigorous, vigorous and venomous than I, except the one from whom I learned it, Zarathustra himself. Rather know nothing, than know much half way! Rather be a fool in one's own right than a wise man according to strangers. I - go to the ground of things: - what does it matter whether it is big or small? Whether it is called swamp or sky? A hand's breadth of ground is enough for me, if only it is real ground and bottom! -ahand's breadth of ground: on that one can stand. In proper science and conscience there is nothing great and nothing small.'"}
{"text": "'So perhaps you are the expert on the leech?' asked Zarathustra. 'And you pursue the leech down to its ultimate grounds, you conscientious one?' 'Oh Zarathustra,' answered the stepped on man. 'That would be a monstrous undertaking, how could I presume to such a thing! What I am master and expert of, however, is the leech's brain - that is my world! And it is a world too! But forgive me that my pride speaks up here, for in this matter I have no equal. That is why I said 'here I am at home.' Howlong already have I pursued this one thing, the brain of the leech, so that the slippery truth no longer slips away from me here? Here is my realm! - this is why I threw away everything else, this is why all else is the same to me; and right next to my knowledge my black ignorance lurks. My conscience of spirit wants of me that I know one thing and do not know everything else; I am nauseated by all halfness of spirit, all hazy, soaring, rapturous people. Where my honesty ceases I am blind and also want to be blind. But whereIwanttoknow,Ialsowanttobehonest,namelyvenomous,rigorous, vigorous, cruel and inexorable. That you once said, oh Zarathustra: 'Spirit is the life that itself cuts into life,' that induced and seduced me to your teaching. And truly, with my own blood I increased my own knowledge!'"}
{"text": "-'And it shows too,' interrupted Zarathustra; for blood was still flowing from the bare arm of the conscientious one. No fewer than ten leeches, after all, had bored themselves into it. 'Oh you weird fellow, how much is revealed to me by your appearance, namely you yourself! And maybe I should not pour all of it into your rigorous ears! Well then! Let's part here! But I would like to find you again. Up there leads the path to my cave; tonight you shall be my dear guest there! I would also like to make it up to your body that Zarathustra stepped on you with his feet; I'll be thinking about that. But now a cry of distress hurries me away from you.' Thus spoke Zarathustra."}
{"text": "But as Zarathustra made his way around a boulder he saw someone not far below him on the same path, flailing his limbs like a raving madman, who finally flopped belly-first to the ground. 'Stop!' said Zarathustra to his heart. 'That one there must be the higher man, that awful cry of distress came from him - I'll go see if I can help.' But when he ran to the spot where the person lay on the ground, he found a trembling old man with a fixed gaze; and as hard as Zarathustra tried to prop him up and stand him on his feet again, it was in vain. Nor did the unfortunate man seem to notice that someone was with him; instead he kept looking around with pitiful gestures, like someone who had been abandoned and left stranded by the whole world. At last, however, after much trembling and twitching and writhing he began to wail thus: Who will warm me, who loves me still? Give me hot hands! Give me braziers for my heart! Laid out, shuddering, Like something half-dead whose feet one warms Racked, oh! by unknown fevers, Shivering from pointy icy arrows of frost, Hunted by you, thought! Unnameable! Disguised! Horrendous one!"}
{"text": "You hunter behind clouds! Struck down by your lightning, You scornful eye that looks at me from darkness: - I lie here, Doubled up, writhing, tortured By all eternal torments, Struck By you, cruelest hunter, You unknown - god! Strike deeper, Strike one more time! Skewer, smash this heart! Why this torment With blunt-toothed arrows? Why do you look again, Not weary of human agony, With gloating gods' eyes flashing lightning? You do not want to kill, Only torment, torment? Why torment me , You gloating unknown god? - Aha! You sneak close? At such midnight What do you want? Speak! You press me, squeeze me Ha! too close already! Away! Away! You hear me breathing, you listen to my heart, You jealous one - But of what are you jealous? Away! Away! Why the ladder? Do you want in , Into my heart, To climb in, to climb into My most secret thoughts? Shameless one! Unknown - thief! What would you gain by stealing, What would you gain by eavesdropping, What would you gain by torturing,"}
{"text": "You torturer! You executioner god! Or should I, like a dog, Roll over before you? Devotedly, ecstatically beside myself Wag love - to you? In vain! Stab deeper, Cruelest thorn! No, Not dog, only your prey am I, Cruelest hunter! Your proudest captive, You robber behind clouds! Speak at last, What do you want, waylayer, from me ? You disguised in lightning! Unknown one! Speak, What do you want , unknown god? - What? Ransom? Why do you want ransom? Demand much - thus my pride counsels! And speak briefly - thus my other pride counsels! Aha! Me - you want? Me? Me - entirely? Aha! And you torment me, fool that you are, Torment my pride? Give me love - who will warm me still? Who loves me still? - give me hot hands, Give me braziers for my heart, Give me, the loneliest one, Whom ice, alas, sevenfold ice Teaches to yearn, To yearn even for enemies, Give, yes give, Cruelest enemy, Give me yourself ! - Gone! He himself fled, My last, my only companion, Thus Spoke Zarathustra My great enemy, My unknown, My executioner god! - - No! Come back, With all your torments! To the last of all lonely ones Oh come back! All my rivers of tears flow Their course to you! And my last heart flames - For you they flicker! Oh come back, My unknown god! My pain! My last - happiness! - But at this point Zarathustra could no longer restrain himself, grabbed his staff and began beating the wailing man with all his strength. 'Shut up!' he cried to him, with grim laughter. 'Shut up, you actor! You counterfeiter! You liar from top to bottom! I recognize you well! I'll give you warm legs, you wicked magician, I'm very good at heating up people like you!' - 'Desist,' said the old man and he leaped to his feet. 'Beat me no more, oh Zarathustra! I only did this as a game! Such things belong to my art; you yourself I wanted to put to the test, when I gave you this test. And verily, you saw through me well!"}
{"text": "But you yourself - you also tested me with no small sample of yourself: you are hard ,you wise Zarathustra! You hit hard with your 'truths,' your cudgel forces this truth out of me!' - 'Do not flatter,' answered Zarathustra, still upset and frowning darkly, 'you actor from top to bottom! You're fake - why do you talk - of truth! You peacock of peacocks, you sea of vanity, what are you playing before me, you wicked magician, in whom am I supposed to believe when you wail in this form?' ' Thepenitent of the spirit ,' said the old man. ' Him I played: you yourself once coined this phrase - Fourth and Final Part - the poet and magician who ultimately turns his spirit against himself, the transformed one who freezes to death from his own evil science and conscience. And just admit it: it took you a long time, oh Zarathustra, before you saw through my art and lie! You believed in my distress when you cradled my head with both hands - -Iheard you wail 'they loved him too little, loved him too little!' That I was able to deceive you to such an extent, that causes my malice to jubilate secretly.' 'Youmayhavedeceivedfinerheadsthanme,'saidZarathustraharshly. 'I am not on my guard for deceivers, I have to be without caution - my fate wants it so. But you have to deceive: that much I know about you! You always have to be e-quivocal, tri-, quad- and quinquivocal! Even what you just now confessed was not nearly true nor false enough for me! You wicked counterfeiter, how could you do otherwise! You would even put make-up on your disease when you show yourself naked to your physician. Just like you put make-up on your lie before me when you said 'I only did this as a game!' There was earnest in it, you are something of a penitent of the spirit! I guessed you well: you became everyone's enchanter, but against yourself you have no lie and no guile left over - you are disenchanted of yourself!"}
{"text": "You harvested nausea as your single truth. Not a word of yours is genuine anymore, except your mouth: namely the nausea that clings to your mouth.' - - 'Who are you!' yelled the old magician at this point, with defiance in his voice. 'Who is permitted to speak with me thus, the greatest person living today?' - and an emerald bolt of lightning shot from his eye toward Zarathustra. But then he transformed immediately and said sadly: 'Oh Zarathustra, I am weary of and nauseated by my arts, I am not great , why do I pretend! But, you know it well - I sought greatness! I wanted to represent a great human being and I persuaded many; but this lie was beyond my powers. On it I break down. Oh Zarathustra, everything about me is a lie; but that I am breaking down - this breaking down is genuine !' - Thus Spoke Zarathustra 'It does you honor,' spoke Zarathustra somberly and glancing down to the side, 'it does you honor that you sought greatness, but it also betrays you. You are not great. You wicked old magician, that is your best and most honest, and what Ihonor in you, namely that you wearied of yourself and said so: 'I am not great.' In that I honor you as a penitent of the spirit; and even if it was only for a whiff and a wink, for this one moment you were - genuine. But tell me, what do you seek here in my woods and cliffs? And when you laid yourself in my path, what did you want to test in me? - - why did you research me ?' - Thus spoke Zarathustra, and his eyes flashed. The old magician was silent for a while, then he said: 'Did I research you? I merely search. Oh Zarathustra, I seek someone who is genuine, proper, simple, unequivocal, a human being of all honesty, a vessel of wisdom, a saint of knowledge, a great human being! Do you not know it, oh Zarathustra? I seek Zarathustra .'"}
{"text": "- And here a long silence ensued between the two; but Zarathustra became deeply immersed in himself, such that he closed his eyes. But then, turning back to his interlocutor, he seized the hand of the magician and spoke, full of kindness and craftiness: 'Well then! Up there leads the path, there lies the cave of Zarathustra. In it you may seek whomever you wish to find. And ask my animals for advice, my eagle and my snake: they shall help you seek. But my cave is big. For my part - I've never seen a great human being. The eyes of the finest are too coarse today for what is great. It is the kingdom of the rabble. Many a one I found already, who stretched and puffed himself up, and the people cried: 'See here, a great human being!' But what good are all bellows! In the end only wind comes out. In the end a frog will burst if it puffs itself up too long: then only wind comes out. To stab a swollen person in the belly - that's what I call great fun. Hear me, you little boys! Today belongs to the rabble; who knows anymore what is great, what is small! Who could successfully search for greatness! Only a fool - fools would succeed. You seek great human beings, you queer fool? Who taught you that? Is the time for that today? Oh you wicked searcher - why do you research me?' - Thus spoke Zarathustra, comforted in his heart, and off he went again on his way, laughing."}
{"text": "Notlongafterhehadfreedhimselffromthemagician,however,Zarathustra again saw someone sitting beside the path that he walked, namely a tall maninblack with a gaunt, pale face: this man dismayed him tremendously. 'Oh no,' he spoke to his heart, 'there sits depression in disguise, and its looks remind me of priests: what do they want in my kingdom? What! Scarcely did I escape that magician, now another practitioner of black arts has to cross my path - - some kind of sorcerer with laying-on of hands, a dark miracle worker of God's grace, an anointed world slanderer, may the devil take him! But the devil is never in place where he would be in the right place; he always comes too late, this damned dwarf and clubfoot!' - Thus cursed Zarathustra impatiently in his heart and he considered how he might avert his gaze and slip by the man in black; but behold, it happened differently. For in the same moment the sitting man had already caught sight of him, and not unlike a person who has run into unexpected luck, he leaped to his feet and approached Zarathustra. 'Whoever you may be, you wanderer,' he said, 'help a lost, seeking old man who could easily come to harm here! This world here is foreign to me and far off, I even heard wild beasts howling; and the one who could have offered me protection, he himself no longer exists. I sought the last pious human being, a saint and a hermit who alone in his woods had not yet heard what the whole world today knows.' ' What does the whole world know today?' asked Zarathustra. 'This perhaps, that the old God no longer lives, the one in whom the whole world once believed?' 'You said it,' answered the old man gloomily. 'And I served this old God until his final hour. Thus Spoke Zarathustra But now I am retired, without a master, and yet I am not free, nor merry for a single hour unless in my memories. And so I climbed into these mountains to finally have a festival for myself, as is proper for an old pope and church father: for know this, I am the last pope! - a festival of pious memories and divine worship."}
{"text": "But now he himself is dead, this most pious human being, this saint in the woods who constantly praised his god with singing and growling. I did not find him when I found his hut - but two wolves were in it, howling at his death - for all animals loved him. Then I ran away. Did I arrive in vain in these woods and mountains? Then my heart resolved to seek another, the most pious of all those who do not believe in God - to seek Zarathustra!' Thus spoke the oldster and he looked with a sharp eye at the man who stood before him; but Zarathustra grasped the old pope's hand and regarded it admiringly for a long time. 'See here, you reverend one,' he said then, 'what a beautiful and long hand! This is the hand of one who has always dispensed blessings. Now, however, it holds on to the one you seek, to me, Zarathustra. I am he, godless Zarathustra, who speaks: who is more godless than I, that I may enjoy his instruction?' - Thus spoke Zarathustra and with his gaze he penetrated the thoughts and secret thoughts of the old pope. At last the latter began: 'The one who loved and possessed him most has now also lost him most - : - behold, perhaps I myself am now the more godless of us two? But who could take pleasure in that!' - 'You served him up until the end,' said Zarathustra, pensively, after a deep silence. 'Do you know how he died? Is it true, as they say, that pity choked him to death, -thathesaw how the human being hung on the cross, and couldn't bear that his love for mankind became his hell and ultimately his death?' - But the old pope did not answer, and instead he looked to the side awkwardly and with a pained and dark expression. 'Let him go,' said Zarathustra after a long thoughtful pause, while still looking the old man straight in the eye. 'Let him go, he's gone. And even though it honors you that you speak only good of this dead one, still you know as well as I who he was; and that he walked queer ways.'"}
{"text": "'For our three eyes only,' said the old pope cheerfully (because he was blind in one eye), 'in matters of God I am more enlightened than Zarathustra himself - and am permitted to be. My love served him long years, my will followed his will in all things. But a good servant knows everything, and also some things that his master conceals from himself. He was a concealed god, full of secretiveness. Indeed, even in getting himself a son he used nothing other than sneaky means. At the doorway of his faith stands adultery. Whoever praises him as a god of love does not think highly enough of love itself. Did this god not also want to be judge? But the loving one loves beyond reward and retribution. When he was young, this god from the East, then he was harsh and vengeful and he built himself a hell for the amusement of his favorites. But at last he became old and soft and mellow and pitying, more like a grandfather than a father, but most like a wobbly old grandmother. There he sat, wilted, in his nook by the stove, grousing about his weak legs, weary of the world, weary of willing, and one day he choked to death on his all too great pity.' - 'You old pope,' said Zarathustra here, interrupting. 'Did you see that with your own eyes? It certainly could have happened that way; that way, and another way too. When gods die, they always die many kinds of death. But well then! This way or that, this way and that - he's gone! He was offensive to the taste of my ears and eyes, I do not wish to speak anything worse of him. Iloveeverything that gazes brightly and speaks honestly. But he - you know it well, you old priest, there was something of your kind in him, something priest-like - he was equivocal. He was also unclear. How he raged at us, this wrath snorter, because we understood him poorly! But why did he not speak more purely! And if the fault was in our ears, why did he give us ears that heard him poorly? If mud was in our ears, well then - who put it there?"}
{"text": "Hefailedattoomuch,thispotterwhonevercompletedhistraining!But that he avenged himself on his clay formations and his creations because they turned out badly for him - that was a sin against good taste . In piousness too there is good taste; it said at last: 'Away with such a god! Rather no god, rather meet destiny on one's own, rather be a fool, rather be a god oneself!'"}
{"text": "- 'What do I hear!' spoke the old pope at this point with pricked up ears. 'Oh Zarathustra, you are more pious than you believe, with such disbelief! Some kind of god in you converted you to your godlessness. Is it not your very piousness that no longer allows you to believe in a god? And your overly great honesty will yet lead you away beyond good and evil! Take a good look: what is left for you? You have eyes and hands and mouth that have been preordained for blessing since eternity. One does not bless with hands alone. In your proximity, even though you claim to be the most godless man, I detect a secret, sacred and sweet aroma of long blessings: it makes me happy and it makes me hurt. Let me be your guest, oh Zarathustra, for one single night! Nowhere on earth do I feel happier now than with you!' - 'Amen! It shall be so!' spoke Zarathustra with great astonishment. 'Up there leads the path, there lies the cave of Zarathustra. Gladly, to be sure, I would guide you there myself, you reverend one, because I love all pious people. But now a cry of distress hurries me away from you. In my realm no one shall come to harm; my cave is a safe harbor. And I would like nothing better than to place every sad person back on firm land and firm legs. But who could take your melancholy off your shoulders? For that I'm too weak. We may have to wait a long time, truly, before someone awakens your god again. For this old god does not live anymore: he is thoroughly dead.' - Thus spoke Zarathustra."}
{"text": "- And again Zarathustra's feet ran through mountains and woods, and his eyes searched and searched, but nowhere to be seen was the one whom they wanted to see, the great sufferer of distress and crier of distress. But along the whole way he jubilated in his heart and was thankful. 'What good things,' he said, 'this day has bestowed on me, as compensation for having begun so badly! What strange interlocutors I found! Fourth and Final Part NowIwant to chew on their words for a long time, as on good kernels; my teeth will grind and grate them down until they flow like milk into my soul!' - But when the path disappeared again around a boulder, all at once the landscape changed and Zarathustra stepped into a realm of death. Here black and red cliffs jutted upward: no grass, no tree, no birdsong. For it was a valley that all animals avoided, even the predators; except for a species of hideous, thick, green snakes that would come here to die when they grew old. And for this reason the shepherds called this valley: Snake Death. Now Zarathustra sank into a black reminiscence, for it seemed to him that he had already stood in this valley once before. And much graveness spread itself over his mind, such that he walked slowly and ever more slowly until finally he stood still. But then, when he opened his eyes he saw something sitting beside the path, shaped like a human but scarcely like a human, something unspeakable. And all of a sudden Zarathustra was overcome with great shame for having looked upon such a thing with his own eyes; blushing all the way up to his white hair, he averted his gaze and picked up his foot, intending to leave this wicked spot. But then a noise animated the dead wasteland; it welled up from the ground gurgling and rattling, like water gurgles and rattles at night through clogged water pipes, until finally it turned into a human voice and human speech - that sounded like this. 'Zarathustra! Zarathustra! Guess my riddle! Speak, speak! What is revenge against the witness ? I lure you back, there is slippery ice here! See to it, see to it that your pride does not break its legs here!"}
{"text": "Youconsider yourself wise, you proud Zarathustra! Then go ahead and guess the riddle, you hard nut cracker - the riddle that I am! So tell me: who am I ?' - But when Zarathustra had heard these words - what do you think took place in his soul? He was overwhelmed with pity ; and he collapsed at once like an oak tree that has long withstood many wood cutters - heavily, suddenly, to the terror of even those who wanted to fell it. But right away he picked himself up from the ground and his face had become hard. 'I recognize you alright,' he spoke with a voice of bronze: ' You are the murderer of God! Let me go. Thus Spoke Zarathustra You could not bear the one who saw you - who saw you always and through and through, you ugliest human being! You took revenge on this witness!' Thus spoke Zarathustra and wanted to leave; but the unspeakable one latched on to a corner of his garment and began again to gurgle and to search for words. 'Stay!' he said at last - - 'Stay! Do not pass by! I guessed what kind of axe knocked you to the ground: Hail to you, oh Zarathustra, that you stand again! You guessed, I know it well, how he who killed him feels - the murderer of God. Stay! Sit down here with me, it will not be in vain. To whom did I want to go, if not to you? Stay, sit down! But do not look at me! Honor thus - my ugliness! They persecute me; now you are my last refuge. Not with their hatred, not with their bailiffs - oh such persecution I would mock and be proud and glad! Has not everything successful hitherto been done by the wellpersecuted? And whoever persecutes well easily learns to succeed - after all he is already - after somebody! But it's their pity - - their pity is what I flee and why I flee to you. Oh Zarathustra, protect me, you my last refuge, you the only one to guess me: - you guessed how he who killed him feels. Stay! And if you want to go, you impatient one: do not go the way that I came. That way is bad."}
{"text": "Are you angry with me that I've already spoken broken words for too long? That I even counsel you? But know this, it's me, the ugliest human being, - who also has the biggest, heaviest feet. Where I walked, the way is bad. I trample all ways to death and to ruin. But that you passed me by, silently; that you blushed, I saw it well: that's how I recognized you as Zarathustra. Any other would have tossed me his alms, his pity, with looks and speech. But for that - I am not beggar enough, you guessed that - -for that I am too rich , rich in what is great, what is terrible, what is ugliest, what is most unspeakable! Your shame, oh Zarathustra, honored me! With difficulty I managed to escape the throng of the pitying - to find the only one today who teaches 'pitying is obtrusive' - you, oh Zarathustra! Fourth and Final Part -Beitagod's, be it the pity of mankind: pitying is offensive to shame. And not wanting to help can be more noble than the virtue that leaps to help. But today that is what passes for virtue itself among all small people, pity - they have no respect for great misfortune, for great ugliness, for great failure. I look away over all these people like a dog looks away over the backs of teeming flocks of sheep. They are small, good-wooled and good-willed gray people. Like a heron looks away contemptuously over shallow ponds, its head tossed back; thus I look away over teeming gray little waves and wills and souls. They have been deemed to be right for too long, these small people; and so in the end they were given might too - now they teach: 'the only good is what small people call good.' And'truth' today is what the preacher spoke, the one who himself came from among them, that odd holy man and advocate of small people who testified of himself: 'I - am the truth.' This immodest person has for a long time now caused small people to get big heads - he who taught no small error when he taught 'I - am the truth.'"}
{"text": "Wasanimmodest person ever answered more courteously? - But you, oh Zarathustra, passed him by and said: 'No! No! Three times no!' You warned against his error, you were the first to warn against pity not all, not none, but yourself and your kind. You are ashamed of the shame of the great sufferer; and indeed, when yousay 'from pitying a great cloud is coming, beware, you human beings!' -whenyouteach'allcreatorsarehard,allgreatloveisabovepitying':oh Zarathustra, how well schooled you seem to me in predicting the weather! Butyouyourself-warnyourselftooagainst your pitying! Because many are on their way to you, many who are suffering, doubting, despairing, drowning, freezing - I warn you against me too. You guessed my best and worst riddle, me myself and what I did. I know the axe that fells you. But he had to die: he saw with eyes that saw everything - he saw the depths and grounds of human beings, all their hidden disgrace and ugliness. Thus Spoke Zarathustra His pitying knew no shame: he crawled into my filthiest nook. This most curious, super-obtrusive, super-pitying one had to die. Healways saw me :Iwanted revenge on such a witness - or to no longer live myself. The god who saw everything, even human beings : this god had to die! Human beings cannot bear that such a witness lives.' Thus spoke the ugliest human being. But Zarathustra rose and set about to leave, because he was chilled down to his entrails. 'Youunspeakable one,' he said, 'you warned me against your way. Out of gratitude I now commendminetoyou.Look,upthereliesZarathustra's cave. My cave is big and deep and has many nooks; there the most hidden person will find a hiding place. And close by are a hundred burrows and tunnels for crawling, flapping and leaping wildlife. You outcast, who cast himself out, you no longer want to dwell among human beings and human pity? Well then, do as I do! Thus you'll also learn from me; only the doer learns."}
{"text": "And speak first and foremost with my animals! The proudest animal and the wisest animal - they are surely the right counselors for both of us!' - Thus spoke Zarathustra and continued on his way, pensive and even more slowly than before; because he had much to ask himself and knew no easy way to answer. 'How poor indeed is a human being!' he thought in his heart, 'how ugly, how gasping, how full of concealed shame! They tell me that human beings love themselves; oh, how great this self-love must be! How much contempt it has against it! Even this man here loved himself, as he despised himself - to me he seems a great lover and a great despiser. I've never found anyone who despised himself more deeply; that too is elevation. Oh no, was he perhaps the higher man whose cry I heard? I love the great despisers. Human being, however, is something that must be overcome.' -"}
{"text": "When Zarathustra had left the ugliest human being, he was freezing and he felt lonely; after all, so much that was cold and lonely went through his"}
{"text": "mind, to the point where even his limbs grew colder because of it. But as he climbed further and further, up, down, now past green meadows, but then also across wild stony deposits where previously an impatient brook might have laid itself to bed, then all at once his mood became warmer and more cordial. 'Whathappenedtome?'heaskedhimself,'somethingwarmandlively refreshes me, something that must be close to me. Already I am less alone; unknown companions and brothers roam around me, their warm breath touches on my soul.' But when he peered about himself and searched for the comforters of his solitude, oddly enough, it was cows huddled together on a knoll; their nearness and smell had warmed his heart. Now these cows seemed engrossed in listening to someone speaking, and they paid no attention to the one who approached them. But when Zarathustra was quite near them he heard clearly how a human voice spoke from the midst of the cows; and evidently they had all turned their heads toward the speaker. Then Zarathustra leaped up eagerly and pushed the animals apart, fearing that someone might have come to harm here, which could scarcely be remedied by the pity of cows. But in this he had deceived himself; for indeed, there sat someone on the ground and appeared to be persuading the animals to not be afraid of him, a peaceful man and mountain preacher from whose eyes goodness itself preached. 'What are you seeking here?' cried Zarathustra, astonished. 'What am I seeking here?' he answered: 'The same thing you seek, you trouble maker! Namely happiness on earth. But for that I want to learn from these cows. And you should know, I've already persuaded them half the morning, and just now they wanted to tell me for sure. Why do you have to disturb them? Unless we are converted and become as cows, we will by no means enter the kingdom of heaven. For there is one thing that we ought to learn from them: chewing the cud. Andtruly, what profit is it to a man if he gains the whole world, and did not learn this one thing, chewing the cud: what would it help? He would not be rid of his misery"}
{"text": "- his great misery: which today is called nausea . Who today does not have heart, mouth and eyes full of nausea? You too! You too! But just look at these cows here!' - Thus Spoke Zarathustra Thus spoke the mountain preacher and then he turned his own gaze on Zarathustra - for till now his gaze hung lovingly on the cows - then, however, it transformed. 'Who is this with whom I speak?' he cried, startled, and jumped up from the ground. 'This is the man without nausea, this is Zarathustra himself, the one who overcame great nausea, this is the eye, this is the mouth, this is the heart of Zarathustra himself.' And while he spoke thus he kissed the hands of the one to whom he spoke, and tears streamed from his eyes, and he behaved quite like someone to whom a precious gift and treasure falls unexpectedly from heaven. The cows, meanwhile, watched all of this and were amazed. 'Do not speak of me, you odd, you lovely man!' said Zarathustra and he restrained his tenderness. 'Tell me first about yourself ! Are you not the voluntary beggar who once threw away great wealth - - who once was ashamed of his wealth and of the wealthy, and fled to the poorest people, to give them his fullness and his heart? But they did not accept him.' 'But they did not accept me,' said the voluntary beggar, 'you know it already. So in the end I went to the animals and to these cows.' 'Then you learned,' Zarathustra interrupted the speaker, 'how it is harder to grant right than to take right, and that bestowing well is an art and the ultimate, craftiest master-art of kindness.' 'Especially nowadays,' answered the voluntary beggar. 'Nowadays, namely, where everything lowly has become rebellious and skittish and haughty in its own way: namely in a rabble way. For the hour has come, you know it well, for the great, terrible, long, slow rabble and slave rebellion: it grows and grows! Now the lowly are outraged by all benevolence and little charities; and the super-rich should be on their guard! Whoever dribbles these days like portly bottles with all too narrow necks - people like to break the necks of such bottles today."}
{"text": "Lascivious greed, galling envy, aggrieved vengefulness, rabble pride: all of that leaped into my face. It is no longer true that the poor are blessed. But the kingdom of heaven is among the cows.' 'And why is it not among the wealthy?' asked Zarathustra, temptingly, as he warded off the cows that trustingly snorted at the peaceful man. Fourth and Final Part 'Why do you tempt me?' he answered. 'You yourself know it even better than I. What drove me to the poorest, oh Zarathustra? Was it not my nausea for our wealthiest people? - for the convicts of wealth who cull their advantage out of every dustpan, with cold eyes, horny thoughts; for this mob that stinks to high heaven, - for this gilded, fake rabble, whose fathers were pick-pockets or vultures or rag pickers, with women who were willing, lascivious, forgetful - all of them after all are not far from being whores - rabble above, rabble below! What do 'poor' and 'rich' mean anymore today! I forgot this difference - then I fled, farther, ever farther, until I got to these cows.' Thus spoke the peaceful man and he himself snorted and sweated at these words, such that the cows once again were amazed. But Zarathustra continued to look him in the face, smiling as he spoke so harshly, and he silently shook his head. 'You do violence to yourself, you mountain preacher, when you use such harsh words. Not for such harshness were your mouth or your eyes made. Nor, it seems to me, your stomach itself: it resists all such raging and hating and foaming over. Your stomach wants gentler things: you are no butcher. Rather, you seem to me a vegetarian and a root man. Perhaps you crunch grains. But certainly you are ill disposed toward pleasures of the flesh and you love honey.' 'You guessed me well,' responded the voluntary beggar, with relief in his heart. 'I love honey, I also crunch grains, because I sought what tastes lovely and makes for clean breath: - also what takes a long time, a day's and mouth's work for gentle idlers and bums."}
{"text": "The ones who have excelled the most, to be sure, are these cows: they invented chewing the cud for themselves and lying in the sun. They also refrain from all weighty thoughts, which bloat the heart.' - 'Well then!' said Zarathustra. 'You should also see my animals, my eagle and my snake - their equal exists nowhere today on earth. Look, there the path leads to my cave; be its guest tonight. And speak with my animals about the happiness of animals -"}
{"text": "- until I myself come home. Because now a cry of distress hurries me away from you. You'll also find new honey at my place, icy-fresh golden honey from the comb - eat it! But now quickly take leave of your cows, you odd, you lovely man! Even if it is difficult for you. For they are your warmest friends and teachers!' - '-Withtheexceptionofoneperson,whomIloveevenmore,'answered the voluntary beggar. 'You yourself are good and even better than a cow, oh Zarathustra!' 'Away, away with you! You nasty flatterer!' cried Zarathustra with malice, 'why do you spoil me with such praise and flatter-honey? Away, away from me!' he cried once more and brandished his staff at the affectionate beggar, who ran away swiftly."}
{"text": "Butscarcely had the voluntary beggar run away and Zarathustra was again alone with himself, than he heard a new voice behind him, crying 'Stop! Zarathustra! Stop already! It's me, oh Zarathustra, me, your shadow!' But Zarathustra did not wait, because he was suddenly overcome with annoyance at the excessive hustle and bustle in his mountains. 'Where's my solitude gone?' he said. 'This is really becoming too much for me; this mountain is teeming, my kingdom is no longer of this world, I need new mountains. My shadow is calling me? What does my shadow matter! Let him run after me - I'll run away from him.' Thus Zarathustra spoke to his heart and ran away. But the one who was behind him continued to follow, so that soon three runners were after each other, namely the voluntary beggar in front, then Zarathustra and third and furthest behind, his shadow. Not long had they run in this manner when Zarathustra came to his senses about his folly and with one great effort shook off all that cloyed and annoyed him. 'What!' he said, 'haven't the most ridiculous things always happened among us old hermits and holy men? Truly, my folly grew tall in the mountains! Now I hear six old fools' legs rattling along after each other!"}
{"text": "But can Zarathustra afford to be afraid of a shadow? And it seems to me, when all's said and done, that he has longer legs than I.' Thus spoke Zarathustra, laughing with his eyes and his entrails, then he stopped, turned around abruptly - and behold, he almost hurled his successor and shadow to the ground - so closely did the latter follow on his heels, and so weak was he too. When he took a close look at him, he shrank back as if before a sudden ghost: so thin, blackish, hollow and outdated did this successor look. 'Whoareyou?'askedZarathustra,intensely,'whatareyoudoinghere? And why do you call yourself my shadow? I don't like you.' 'Forgive me,' answered the shadow, 'that it is I; and if you do not like me, well then, oh Zarathustra, for that I praise you and your good taste! I am a wanderer, who has already walked much at your heels; always on my way, but without goal, without home too, such that very little is lacking, truly, and I would be the Eternal Jew - except that I am not eternal and neither am I Jew. What? Must I always be on my way? Whirled by every wind, unsteady, driven out? Oh earth, you have become too round for me! I've already sat on every surface, like weary dust I have slept on mirrors and window panes: Everything takes from me, nothing gives, and I grow thin - I almost resemble a shadow. Butafter you, oh Zarathustra, I've flown and followed longest, and even when I concealed myself from you, I was still your best shadow: wherever you sat, I sat too. With you I have haunted the remotest, coldest worlds, like a ghost that runs voluntarily over winter rooftops and snow. With you I strived to enter everything forbidden, worst, remotest; and if anything of mine is a virtue, then it is that I have feared no ban. With you I smashed anything my heart ever honored, I overthrew all boundary stones and images, I pursued the most dangerous wishes indeed, I have passed over every crime once."}
{"text": "With you I unlearned my faith in words and values and great names. When the devil sheds his skin, does his name not fall off too? For it too is skin. Perhaps the devil himself is - skin. 'Nothing is true, all is permitted': thus I persuaded myself. I plunged into the coldest waters, with head and heart. Oh how often I paid for it by standing there naked as a red crab!"}
{"text": "Oh where has all my goodness and all my shame and all my faith in the goodgone!OhwherehasthatmendaciousinnocencethatIoncepossessed gone, the innocence of the good and their noble lies! Too often, to be sure, I followed on the heels of truth: and it kicked me in the head. Sometimes I believed I was lying and behold - that's where I first hit - the truth. Too much became clear to me, now it doesn't matter to me anymore. Nothing that I love lives anymore - how am I supposed to still love myself? 'Live as I please or don't live at all' - that's how I want it, and that's how the saintliest person wants it too. But alas, how could I still have pleasure? Do I - still have a goal? A harbor toward which my sail turns? Agoodwind? Indeed, only the one who knows where he's sailing knows also which wind is good and which is his favorable wind. What did I have left? A heart weary and insolent; a restless will; fluttering wings; a broken backbone. Ever a visitor, searching for my home, oh Zarathustra, you well know, this visiting was my visitation, and it devours me. 'Where is my home?' I asked, and I search and searched for it, but I have not found it. Oh eternal everywhere, oh eternal nowhere, oh eternal - in vain!' Thus spoke the shadow, and Zarathustra's face lengthened at these words. 'You are my shadow!' he said at last, with sadness. 'Your danger is no small one, you free spirit and wanderer! You've had a bad day: see to it that you do not have an even worse evening! To such restless ones as you even a jail ends up looking like bliss. Have you ever seen how captured criminals sleep? They sleep peacefully, they enjoy their new security. Beware that you are not captured in the end by a narrow belief, a harsh, severe delusion! Because now you are seduced and tempted by anything that is narrow and solid. You have lost your goal: indeed, how will you get rid of and get over this loss? Along with it - you have also lost your way!"}
{"text": "You poor roamer and raver, you weary butterfly! Do you want to have a rest and a home this evening? Then go up to my cave! There leads the path to my cave. And now I have to run away from you quickly again. Already it's as though I'm covered in shadow."}
{"text": "I want to run alone, so that things clear up around me again. For that I'll yet have to be long on my legs and like it. But this evening at my place - there will be dancing!' - Thus spoke Zarathustra."}
{"text": "- And Zarathustra ran and ran and found no one anymore, and he was alone and found himself again and again, and he enjoyed and sipped his solitude and thought about good things - for hours. At the hour of noon, however, as the sun stood directly over Zarathustra's head, he passed by an old crooked and knotty tree, embraced by the luxurious love of a grapevine and hidden away from itself; from it hung abundant yellow grapes, trailing toward the wanderer. Then he got a craving to quench a slight thirst and to pluck himself a grape; but when he had already stretched out his arm to do so, then he got an even stronger craving to do something else, namely to lie down beside the tree, at the hour of perfect noon, and to sleep. This Zarathustra did; and as soon as he lay on the ground, in the quiet and secrecy of the colorful grass, he quickly forgot about his slight thirst and fell asleep. For, as Zarathustra's proverb says, one thing is more needful than the other. Only his eyes remained open - because they did not tire of seeing and praising the tree and the grapevine's love. As he was falling asleep, however, Zarathustra spoke thus to his heart: Still! Still! Didn't the world become perfect just now? What's happening to me? Like a delicate wind, unseen, dancing on a paneled sea, light, feather light - thus sleep dances on me. He does not close my eyes, he leaves my soul awake. Light is he, truly, feather light! Hepersuades me, I don't know how. He pats me on the inside with flattering hand, he conquers me. Yes, he conquers me until my soul stretches out - -how she grows long and weary, my strange soul! Did a seventh day's evening come to her precisely at noon? Did she wander blissfully too long already between good and ripe things? Thus Spoke Zarathustra She stretches herself out, long - longer! She lies still, my strange soul. She's already tasted too much that is good, this golden melancholy oppresses her, she grimaces. - Like a ship that sailed into its stillest bay - now it leans against the earth, weary of the long journeys and the uncertain seas. Is the earth not more faithful?"}
{"text": "How such a ship moors and nestles itself to the land - now it's enough foraspider to spin a web to it from the land. It needs no stronger lines now. Like such a weary ship in the stillest bay, thus I too rest now close to the earth, faithfully, trusting, waiting, bound to it with the lightest threads. Oh happiness, oh happiness! Do you want to sing, oh my soul? You lie in the grass. But this is the secret solemn hour when no shepherd plays his flute. Stand back! Hot noon sleeps on the meadows. Do not sing! Still! The world is perfect. Do not sing, you winged bug in the grass, oh my soul! Do not even whisper! Look here - still! Old noon is sleeping, he's moving his mouth: didn't he just drink a drop of happiness - -anold brown drop of golden happiness, golden wine? It flits over him, his happiness is laughing. Thus laughs - a god. Still! - - 'Happily, how little suffices for happiness!' Thus I spoke once, and deemed myself clever. But it was a blasphemy: this I learned now. Clever fools speak better. Precisely the least, the softest, the lightest, a lizard's rustling, a breath, a wink, a blink of an eye a little is the stuff of the best happiness. Still! - What happened to me: listen! Didn't time just fly away? Am I not falling? Did I not fall - listen! - into the well of eternity? - What's happening to me? Still! Something is stinging me - oh no in the heart? In the heart? Oh break, break, heart, after such happiness, after such a sting! - What? Did the world not become perfect just now? Round and ripe? Oh the golden round ring - where is it flying to now? I'll run after it! Rush! Still - (and here Zarathustra stretched and felt that he was sleeping). 'Getup!'hesaidtohimself, 'you sleeper! You noon sleeper! Well then, well now, you old legs! It's time and overtime, many a good piece of road is still waiting for you -"}
{"text": "Now you've slept yourself out, for how long? Half an eternity! Well then, well now, my old heart! How long after such a sleep will it take you to wake yourself out? (Butthenhefellasleepanew,andhissoulspokeagainsthimandresisted and laid itself down again) - 'Let me be! Still! Didn't the world become perfect just now? Oh the golden round ball!' - 'Get up,' spoke Zarathustra, 'you little thief, you loafing thief! What? Still stretching, yawning, sighing, falling down into deep wells? Who are you? Oh my soul!' (and here he started, because a sunbeam fell down from the sky onto his face) 'Oh sky above me,' he said, sighing, and sat upright. 'You're looking at me? You're listening to my strange soul? When will you drink this drop of dew that has fallen upon all earthly things - when will you drink this strange soul - when, well of eternity! You cheerful, dreadful noon abyss! When will you drink my soul back into yourself?' Thus spoke Zarathustra and he rose from his sleeping place at the tree as if from a strange drunkenness; and behold, the sun was still standing straight over his head. But from this one might justifiably infer that Zarathustra had not slept long."}
{"text": "It was not until late afternoon that Zarathustra returned home to his cave after much searching and roaming around in vain. But as he stood facing the cave, not more than twenty paces away from it, something happened that he least expected now: once again he heard the great cry of distress . And, amazingly, this time it came from his own cave! But it was a protracted, manifold, peculiar cry, and Zarathustra clearly differentiated that it was composed of many voices; even if, heard from a distance, it sounded like the cry of a single mouth. ThenZarathustra bounded toward his cave, and behold, what an eyeful awaited him after this earful! Indeed, there sitting all together were the ones he had passed by during the day: the king on the right and king on the left, the old magician, the pope, the voluntary beggar, the shadow, the conscientious of spirit, the sad soothsayer and the ass; the ugliest human being, however, had donned a crown and draped two purple sashes around"}
{"text": "himself - for like all ugly people he loved to disguise himself and act beautiful. But in the midst of this gloomy company stood Zarathustra's eagle, bristling and restless because he was pressed to answer too much for which his pride had no answer; meanwhile the wise snake hung around his neck. All of this Zarathustra observed with great amazement; then he examined each one of his guests with affable curiosity, read their souls and was amazed once more. In the meantime the assembled had risen from their seats and they waited respectfully for Zarathustra to speak. But Zarathustra spoke thus: 'You despairing ones! You strange ones! So it was your cry of distress I heard? And now I also know where to find the one whom I have sought in vain today: the higher man - : - in my own cave he's sitting, the higher man! But why am I amazed? Did I myself not lure him to me with honey sacrifices and the cunning calls of my happiness? Yet it seems to me you are not fit company for each other; sitting here together you strain each other's nerves, you criers of distress. First someone has to come, - someone to make you laugh again, a good gay buffoon, a dancer and a wind and wildcat, some old fool - what do you think? Forgive me please, you despairing ones, for speaking to you with such small words, unworthy, truly, of such guests! But you cannot guess what makes my heart so mischievous - You yourselves are responsible, and how you look, forgive me! After all, everyone who looks at a despairing person becomes mischievous. To give encouragement to someone who despairs - for that everyone thinks they're strong enough. Youyourselves gave me this strength - a good gift, my elevated guests! Arighteous gift for your host! Well then, don't be angry now when I offer you something of my own. This here is my kingdom and my dominion; but whatever is mine shall be yours for this evening and this night. My animals shall serve you; my cave shall be your resting place! In my home and house no one shall despair; in my territory I protect everyone from his wild animals. And that is the first thing I offer you: security! Fourth and Final Part"}
{"text": "But the second thing is: my little finger. And once you've got hold of it , just go ahead and take the whole hand! And my heart too! Welcome to this place, welcome, my guests! ' Thus spoke Zarathustra and he laughed with love and malice. After this welcome his guests bowed repeatedly and maintained a respectful silence; then the king on the right responded in their name. 'By the manner, oh Zarathustra, that you offered us your hand and your greeting, we recognize you as Zarathustra. You humbled yourself before us; you almost offended our sense of respect - - but who is able to humble himself like you with such pride? That in itself uplifts us, it refreshes our eyes and hearts. To behold this alone we would have gladly climbed higher mountains than this one here. We came hungry for something to behold, we wanted to see what brightens gloomy eyes. And behold, already we have ceased all our crying of distress. Already our minds and hearts stand open and are delighted. Little is missing and our spirits will become spirited. Nothing more delightful grows on earth, oh Zarathustra, than a tall, strong will: that is the earth's most beautiful plant. An entire landscape is invigorated by one such tree. Whoever grows tall like you, oh Zarathustra, I compare to the stonepine: long, silent, hard, solitary, of the most resilient wood, magnificent - -but in the end reaching out with strong green branches for its dominion, asking strong questions before the winds and weather and whatever else is at home in the heights, - answering even more strongly, a commander, a victor: oh who would not climb high mountains to look upon such plants? Even the gloomy, the failures are invigorated by your tree, oh Zarathustra, even the hearts of the unsteady are made sure and are healed at the sight of you. And truly, many eyes today are trained on your mountain and tree; a great longing has opened up, and many have learned to ask: who is Zarathustra? Andthose into whose ears you ever dripped your song and your honey: all the hidden ones, the solitary and the dualitary, said at once to their hearts: Thus Spoke Zarathustra"}
{"text": "'Does Zarathustra still live? It's not worth it anymore to live, all is the same, all is in vain: or - we must live with Zarathustra!' 'Why does he not come, he who announced himself for so long?' thus many ask. 'Did solitude swallow him up? Or should we perhaps go to him?' Now it happens that solitude itself is becoming brittle and is breaking apart, like a grave that breaks open and can no longer contain its dead. Everywhere one sees the resurrected. Now the waves rise and rise around your mountain, oh Zarathustra. And as high as your height may be, many must go up to you; your skiff shall not be on the rocks much longer. And that we who despair have now come to your cave and no longer despair: this is merely a token and an omen that better ones are on their way to you - - for what is on its way to you is nothing less than the last remnant of God among human beings, that is: all human beings of great longing, of great nausea, of great surfeit, - all who do not want to live unless they once again learn to hope -unless they learn from you, oh Zarathustra, the great hope!' Thus spoke the king on the right and he grasped Zarathustra's hand in order to kiss it; but Zarathustra rebuffed his veneration and stepped back startled, silent, and as if he were fleeing suddenly into remote distances. But after a brief while he was once again among his guests, looking at them with bright, piercing eyes, and he said: 'My guests, you higher men, I want to speak in German and intelligibly with you. Not for you did I wait here in these mountains. ('In German and intelligibly? May God have mercy!' said the king on the left, as an aside. 'One notices that he does not know our dear Germans, this wise man from the East! But he really means 'in German and in-eptly' - well then! Nowadays that is not the worst of tastes!') 'You may indeed be higher men, collectively,' Zarathustra continued. 'But for me - you are not high and strong enough."}
{"text": "Forme, that is: for the inexorable that remains silent in me but will not always remain silent. And if you belong to me, then surely not as my right arm. For whoever stands on sick and frail legs himself, as you do, wants above all to be spared , whether he knows it or conceals it from himself. Fourth and Final Part But I do not spare my arms and legs, I do not spare my warriors : how could you be fit for my war? With you I would only ruin every victory. And many of you would already fall over just to hear the loud pounding of my drums. Nor are you beautiful enough for me and wellborn. I need clean, smooth mirrors for my teachings; on your surfaces even my own image is distorted. Your shoulders are weighed down by many a burden, many a memory; in your corners many a wicked dwarf crouches. There is hidden rabble in you as well. Andeven if you are higher and of a higher kind: much in you is crooked anddeformed.There'snosmithintheworldwhocouldhammeryouright and straight for me. You are mere bridges - may higher people stride across on you! You represent steps - so do not be angered by the one who steps over you into his height! Fromyourseed perhaps a genuine son and perfect heir will grow someday for me; but that is far off. You yourselves are not the ones to whom my inheritance and my name belong. Not for you do I wait here in these mountains, not with you shall I go down for the last time. You came to me only as an omen that higher ones are on their way to me - -not the people of great longing, of great nausea, of great surfeit and that which you called the remnant of God. - No! No! Three times no! I wait for others here in these mountains and will not lift a foot from here without them, -for higher, stronger, more victorious, more cheerful ones, those who are built right-angled in body and soul: laughing lions must come! Oh my guests, you strange ones - have you not yet heard anything of my children? And that they are on their way to me? Speak to me of my gardens, of my blessed isles, of my beautiful new species - why don't you speak to me of that?"}
{"text": "This host's gift I beg of your love, that you speak of my children. It is for this that I am rich, for this that I became poor: what did I not give, Kaufmann in his translation deleted the word 'species' ( Art ), writing instead: 'Speak to me of my gardens, of my blessed isles, of my new beauty.' Nietzsche referred to the overman as a new species, even while he insisted that the current human being cannot be 'leaped over' in the pursuit of the overman. - what would I not give just to have this one thing: these children, this living plantation, these life-trees of my will and my highest hope!' ThusspokeZarathustraandsuddenlyhestoppedinhisspeech,because his longing overcame him, and his eyes and his mouth were closed by the turmoil in his heart. And all his guests were silent as well, and they stood still and dismayed; except that the old soothsayer made signs and gestures with his hands."}
{"text": "At this point, however, the soothsayer interrupted the welcome of Zarathustra and his guests; he pushed forward like someone who has no time to lose, grabbed Zarathustra's hand and shouted: 'But Zarathustra! Onething is more needful than the other, so you yourself say: well then, one thing is more needful to me now than everything else. Aword at the right time: did you not invite me to supper ? And here are many who traveled a long way. Surely you do not intend to feed us with speeches? Also, you have all given too much thought already to freezing, drowning, suffocating and other bodily emergencies: but no one has thought about my emergency, namely starving -' (Thus spoke the soothsayer; but when Zarathustra's animals heard thesewords,theyranawayterrified,seeingthatwhatevertheyhadbrought home by day would not suffice to stuff even this one soothsayer.) 'Including dying of thirst,' continued the soothsayer. 'And even though I hear water splashing here, like the speeches of wisdom, namely abundantly and tirelessly, I want wine ! Not everyone is a born water drinker, like Zarathustra. Nor is water fit for the weary and the wilted: we deserve wine - only it provides sudden convalescence and instant health!' At this opportunity, since the soothsayer demanded wine, it happened that the king on the left, the silent one, also spoke up at last. ' We have taken care of the wine,' he said, 'I together with my brother, the king on the right: we have wine enough - an entire ass-load. So nothing is lacking but bread.' 'Bread?' countered Zarathustra, and he laughed. 'Bread is the one thing hermits do not have. But man does not live by bread alone, but also on the meat of good lambs, of which I have two:"}
{"text": "-These we'll quickly slaughter and spice with sage; that's how I love it. Andwedonotlackforrootsandfruits, good enough even for sweet-tooths and big eaters; nor for nuts and other riddles to crack. And so we'll make a good meal in short order. But whoever wants to share in the eating must also lend a hand, even the kings. In Zarathustra's home, even a king may be a cook.' This suggestion appealed to the hearts of everyone, except that the voluntary beggar objected to meat and wine and spices. 'Just listen to this glutton Zarathustra!' he said jokingly. 'Is that why people go into caves and high mountains, to prepare such meals? Now indeed I understand what he once taught us: 'Praised be a small poverty!' And why he wants to get rid of beggars.' 'Cheer up,' answered Zarathustra, 'as I am cheered. Stick to your custom, you excellent man, crunch your grains, drink your water, praise your cuisine - if only it makes you cheerful! I am a law only for my own, I am no law for everyone. But whoever belongs to me must be of strong bones, also light of foot - -must be eager for wars and festivals, no gloomy Gus, no dreamy Joe, just as ready for what is hardest as for his festival, healthy and hale. What's best belongs to mine and to me; if one doesn't give it to us, then we take it - the best food, the clearest sky, the strongest thoughts, the most beautiful women!' - Thus spoke Zarathustra; but the king on the right retorted: 'That's odd! Did anyone ever hear such clever things from the mouth of a wise man? And truly, the oddest thing about a wise man is when, on top of everything else, he is also clever and not an ass.' Thus spoke the king on the right and he was amazed; but the ass responded to his remarks malevolently with 'hee-yaw.' And this was the beginning of that long meal which is called 'the last supper' in the history books. During the same, however, nothing was discussed but the higher man ."}
{"text": "WhenIcametomankindfor the first time, I committed the hermit's folly, the great folly: I situated myself in the market place. Thus Spoke Zarathustra And when I spoke to all, I spoke to none. But by evening my companions were tightrope walkers, and corpses, and I myself almost a corpse. But with the new morning a new truth came to me; then I learned to say: 'What do the market place and the rabble and the rabble noise and long rabble ears matter to me!' You higher men, learn this from me: in the market place no one believes in higher men. And if you want to speak there, well then! But the rabble blinks 'we are all equal. You higher men' - thus blinks the rabble - 'there are no higher men, we are all equal, human is human, before God - we are all equal!' Before God! - Now, however, this God has died. But we do not want to be equal before the rabble. You higher men, go away from the market place! Before God! - But now this god has died! You higher men, this god was your greatest danger. It is only now, since he lies in his grave, that you are resurrected. Only now the great noon comes, only now the higher man becomes ruler! Have you understood these words, oh my brothers? You are frightened; do your hearts become dizzy? Does the abyss yawn before you here? Does the hell hound yelp before you here? Well then! Well now! You higher men! Only now is the mountain in labor with humanity's future. God died: now we want - the overman to live. Thosewhocaremosttodayask:'Howarehumanbeingstobepreserved?' But Zarathustra is the only one and the first one to ask: 'How shall human being be overcome ?'"}
{"text": "Neither 'lord' nor 'master' fits here for Herr ,'ruler.' See 'On the Three Evils' where Nietzsche defends Herrschsucht , 'lust to rule,' a noun based on herrschen , 'to rule,' which in turn is based on Herr , ruler. Nietzsche's motif for TSZ Part is 'who shall be ruler of the earth.' The earth can neither be 'lorded' nor 'mastered,' but according to Nietzsche, it shall be ruled."}
{"text": "The overman is in my heart, that is my first and my only concern and not human beings; not the neighbor, not the poorest, not the most suffering, not the best - Oh my brothers, what I am able to love in human beings is that they are a going over and a going under. And in you, too, there is much that makes me love and hope. That you despise, you higher men, that makes me hope. For the great despisers are the great reverers. That you have despaired, there is much to revere in that. For you did not learn how to surrender, you did not learn petty prudence. For today the little people have become ruler: they all preach surrender andresignationandprudenceandindustryandconsiderationandthelong etcetera of little virtues. What is effeminate, what comes from the servant's ilk and especially the rabble mishmash: that nowwantstobecomerulerofall human destiny - oh nausea! Nausea! Nausea! That asks and asks and does not tire: 'How do human beings preserve themselves best, longest, most pleasantly?' With that - they are the rulers of today. Overcome these rulers of today for me, oh my brothers - these little people: they are the overman's greatest danger! Overcome for me, you higher men, the little virtues, the little prudence, the sand-grain sized considerations, the detritus of swarming ants, the pitiful contentedness, the 'happiness of the greatest number'! Anddespairratherthansurrender.Andtruly,Iloveyoufornotknowing how to live today, you higher men! For thus you live - best! Doyouhavecourage,ohmybrothers?Areyoubraveofheart? Not courage before witnesses, but the courage of hermits and eagles, which not even a god looks at anymore. Cold souls, mules, the blind, the drunk - these I do not call brave of heart. Whoever has heart knows fear, but conquers fear ; sees the abyss, but with pride . Whoever sees the abyss, but with eagle's eyes, whoever grasps the abyss with eagle's talons: he has courage. - Thus Spoke Zarathustra"}
{"text": "'Human beings are evil' - thus spoke all the wisest to comfort me. Oh, if only it were still true today! Because evil is a human being's best power. 'Mankind must become better and more evil' - thus I teach. What is most evil is necessary for the overman's best. It may have been good for that preacher of the little people that he suffered and labored under the sins of mankind. But I enjoy the greatest sin as my greatest comfort . - But such things are not said for long ears. Every word does not belong in every snout. These are fine and faraway things: sheeps' hooves should not reach for them! You higher men, do you think I am here to make good what you made bad? Or that I have come henceforth to bed you suffering ones more comfortably?Ortoshownew,easierpathstothoseofyouwhoareunsteady, lost, and have climbed astray? No! No! Three times no! Ever more, ever better of your kind shall perish - for you shall have it ever worse and ever harder. Only thus - - only thus do human beings grow into that height, where lightning strikes and breaks them: high enough for lightning! Mymind and my longing are trained on the few, the long, the distant: what do I care about your many little brief miseries? Youdonotsufferenoughinmyopinion!Foryousufferfromyourselves, youhaven't yet suffered from human beings . And you would be lying if you said otherwise! All of you do not suffer from what I suffered. - It is not enough for me that lightning no longer causes damage. I do not want to divert it: it shall learn to work - for me . Mywisdom has gathered itself for a long time like a cloud, it becomes stiller and darker. Thus does every wisdom that shall one day give birth to lightning. Fourth and Final Part To these people of today I do not want to be light , nor be called light. Them - I want to blind: lightning of my wisdom - put out their eyes! Will nothing beyond your capacity: there is a wicked falseness among those who will beyond their capacity. Especially when they will great things! For they arouse mistrust against great things, these fine counterfeiters and actors -"}
{"text": "-untilatlast they are false before themselves, cross-eyed, white-washed wormfood, cloaked by strong words, by showy virtues, by gleaming false works. Be very careful there, you higher men! For I regard nothing more precious and rare today than honesty. Is this today not of the rabble? But rabble does not know what is great, what is small, what is straight and honest: it is innocently crooked, it always lies. Have a good mistrust today, you higher men, you brave-hearted, you open-hearted ones! And keep your grounds secret! For this today is of the rabble. What the rabble once learned to believe without grounds, how could anyone overthrow that with grounds? In the market place one convinces with gestures. But grounds make the rabble mistrustful. And if ever truth was victorious there, then ask yourselves with good mistrust: 'Which strong error fought for it?' And beware also of the scholars! They hate you, because they are sterile! They have cold, dried up eyes; before them every bird lies plucked. Such types boast that they do not lie: but powerlessness to lie is by no means love for the truth. Beware! Freedom from fever is by no means knowledge! I do not believe spirits that have cooled down. Whoever cannot lie does not know what truth is. Thus Spoke Zarathustra If you want to climb high and beyond, then use your own legs! Do not let yourselves be carried up, do not seat yourselves on strangers' backs and heads! But you mount your horse? You ride swiftly up to your goal? Well then, my friend! But your lame foot is also mounted on your horse! When you've reached your goal, when you leap from your horse, precisely at your height , you higher man - you will stumble! You creators, you higher men! One is pregnant only with one's own child. Do not let yourselves be misled and spoon-fed! Who after all is your neighbor? And even if you act 'for your neighbor' - still you don't create for him! Unlearn this 'for,' you creators; your virtue itself wants that you do nothing 'for' and 'in order' and 'because.' You should plug your ears against these false little words."}
{"text": "'For your neighbor' is the virtue of only small people; there they say 'birds of a feather' and 'one hand washes the other' - they have neither the right nor the strength to your self-interest. In your self-interest, you creators, are the precaution and providence of the pregnant! What no one yet has laid eyes on, the fruit: your whole love shelters and spares and nourishes it. Where your whole love is, with your children, there too your whole virtue is! Your work, your will is your 'neighbor' - do not let yourself be spoon-fed any false values! You creators, you higher men! Whoever must give birth is sick; but whoever has given birth, is unclean. Ask women: one does not give birth because it is enjoyable. Pain makes hens and poets cackle. You creators, in you there is much that is unclean. That's because you had to be mothers. A new child - oh how much new filth also came into the world! Step aside! And whoever has given birth should wash his soul clean! Donotbevirtuous beyond your strengths! And will nothing of yourselves that is contrary to probability! Walk in the footsteps where your fathers' virtue walked before! How could you climb high if your fathers' will did not climb with you? But whoever would be a firstling should see to it that he does not also become a lastling! And where the vices of your fathers are, there you should not pretend to be saints! If your fathers took to women and strong wine and boar swine, what would be the use of demanding chastity of yourself? It would be a folly! To me it truly seems like much if such a man belonged to one or two or three women. And if he founded monasteries and wrote above the door: 'This way to sainthood' - I would still say: What for! It's a new folly! He founded himself a guardhouse and safeguard: good for him! But I don't believe in it. Whatever one brings into solitude grows in it, even the inner beast. On this score, solitude is ill-advised for many. Was there ever anything filthier on earth than saints of the wilderness? Around them not only hell broke loose - but pigs too."}
{"text": "Timid, ashamed, awkward, like a tiger whose leap has failed; thus, you higher men, I often saw you slinking aside. A throw failed you. But what does it matter, you dice throwers! You did not learn to gamble and banter as one should gamble and banter! Are we not always sitting at a great bantering and gaming table? And when something great failed you, are you yourselves therefore failures? And if you yourselves failed, did humanity therefore fail? But if humanity failed: well then, well now! Thus Spoke Zarathustra The higher its kind, the more seldom a thing succeeds. You higher men here, haven't all of you - failed? Beofgoodcheer, what does it matter! How much is still possible! Learn to laugh at yourselves as one must laugh! And no wonder that you failed and half succeeded, you half-broken ones! Does humanity's future not push and shove within you? What is most distant, deepest, highest to the stars in humanity, its prodigious power: does all that not foam against each other in your pot? Nowondermanyapotbreaks!Learntolaugh at yourselves as one must laugh! You higher men, oh how much is still possible! And truly, how much has succeeded already! How rich is this earth in small, good, perfect things, in things that turned out well! Place small, good, perfect things around you, you higher men! Their golden ripeness heals the heart. Perfection teaches us to hope. What was the greatest sin here on earth until now? Was it not the words of him who spoke: 'Woe to you who laugh now!' Did he himself find no reasons to laugh on earth? Then he searched badly. Even a child finds reasons here. He - did not love enough; or else he would have loved us too, we who laugh! But he hated and heckled us, howling and gnashing of teeth he heralded for us. Must one curse right away where one does not love? That - seems to mein bad taste. But that is how he acted, this unconditional one. He came from the rabble. And he himself just did not love enough; or else he would have been less angry that people did not love him. All great love does not want love - it wants more."}
{"text": "Get out of the way of all such unconditional ones! That is a poor sick kind, a rabble kind; they look harshly at this life, they have the evil eye for this earth. Get out of the way of all such unconditional ones! They have heavy feet and sultry hearts - they do not know how to dance. How could the earth be light to them? Fourth and Final Part Crookedly all good things approach their goal. Like cats they arch their backs, they purr inwardly with their impending happiness - all good things laugh. A person's stride betrays whether one is striding on his course: just look at me walk! But whoever approaches his goal dances. And truly, I have not become a statue, I do not yet stand there stiff, stunned, stony, a column; I love swift running. And even though there are bogs and thick depressions on earth, whoever has light feet runs over and past the mud and dances as if on cleanswept ice. Lift up your hearts, my brothers, high! higher! And don't forget your legs either! Lift up your legs as well, you good dancers, and better still: stand on your heads too! This crown of the laughing one, this rose-wreath crown - I myself put on this crown, I myself pronounced my laughter holy. I found no other strong enough for it today. Zarathustra the dancer, Zarathustra the light one who waves with his wings, the flightworthy, waving to all birds, worthy and ready, a blissful lightweight - Zarathustra the soothsayer, Zarathustra the soothlaugher, not impatient, not unconditional, someone who loves capers and escapades; I myself put on this crown! Lift up your hearts, my brothers, high! higher! And don't forget your legs either! Lift up your legs as well, you good dancers, and better still: stand on your heads too! Even in happiness there are heavy creatures, there are born ponderipedes. Quaintly they struggle, like an elephant struggling to stand on its head. But it is better to be foolish with happiness than foolish with unhappiness, better to dance ponderously than to walk lamely. So learn this wisdom from me: even the worst thing has two good reverse sides -"}
{"text": "-even the worst thing has good legs for dancing: so learn from me, you higher men, to stand yourselves on your right legs! So unlearn moping and all rabble sadness! Oh how sad even today's rabble clowns seem to me! But this today is of the rabble. Make like the wind when he plunges from his mountain caves: he wants to dance to his own pipe, the seas tremble and skip under his footsteps. Praised be this good unruly spirit who gives wings to asses and milks the lionesses, who comes upon all that is today and all rabble like a storm wind - - who is hostile to thistle-heads and hair-splitters and all wilted leaves and weeds: praised be this good, free storm spirit, who dances on bogs and depressions as upon meadows! Who hates the rabble's mindless swindlers and all botched gloomy brood: praised be this spirit of all free spirits, the laughing storm who blows dust into the eyes of all fusspots and pus-pots! You higher men, your worst part is that all of you have not learned to dance as one must dance - dance over and past yourselves! What does it matter that you didn't turn out well? How much is still possible! So learn to laugh over and past yourselves! Lift up your hearts, you good dancers, high! higher! And don't forget good laughter either! This crown of the laughing one, this rose-wreath crown: to you, my brothers, I throw this crown! I pronounced laughter holy; you higher men, learn - to laugh!"}
{"text": "As Zarathustra made these speeches he stood close to the entrance of his cave; with the last words, however, he slipped away from his guests and fled for a short while into the open. 'Oh clean fragrance around me,' he cried out, 'oh blissful stillness around me! But where are my animals? Come here, come here my eagle and my snake! Fourth and Final Part Tell me, my animals: these higher men all together - do they perhaps not smell good? Oh clean fragrances around me! Only now do I know and feel how I love you, my animals.' - And Zarathustra spoke again. 'I love you, my animals!' But the eagle andsnakepressed up against him as he spoke these words, and they looked upat him. In such a manner the three of them together sniffled and sipped the good air. For the air here outside was better than among the higher men. But scarcely had Zarathustra left his cave when the old magician stood up, looked around cunningly and said: 'He's gone out! Andalready, you higher men - if I may tickle you with this complimentary and flattering name, even as he did - already my wicked deceiving and magic spirit befalls me, my melancholy devil, -who is an adversary of Zarathustra from the ground up: forgive him! Now he wants to conjure before you, right now is his hour; I wrestle in vain with this evil spirit. All of you, whatever honors you may give yourselves with words, whether you call yourselves 'the free spirits' or 'the truthful' or 'penitents of the spirit' or 'the unbound' or 'the great longing ones' - - all of you who suffer from the great nausea like me, for whom the old God died and no new god is lying yet in cradles and crib clothes - all of you are favored by my evil spirit and magic devil. I know you, you higher men, I know him - I also know this monster whom I love against my will, this Zarathustra: he himself often seems to me like a beautiful mask of a saint, - like a new wondrous masquerade in which my evil spirit, the melancholy devil, enjoys himself - I love Zarathustra, so it often seems to me, for the sake of my evil spirit. -"}
{"text": "But already he befalls me and forces me, this spirit of melancholy, this evening twilight devil; and truly, you higher men, he is fond - - just open your eyes! - he is fond of coming naked , whether male or female I do not yet know; but he is coming, he is forcing me, oh no! Open your senses!"}
{"text": "The day is winding down, to all things evening now is coming, even to the best things; listen now and see, you higher men, what kind of devil, whether man or woman, this spirit of evening melancholy is!' Thus spoke the old magician, glanced around cunningly and then reached for his harp. When the air grows dim, When already the dew's consolation Wells down to earth, Invisible, and unheard For delicate shoes wears The dewy consoler, like all who mildly console Do you recall then, do you recall, hot heart, How once you thirsted, For tears from the sky and dribbles of dew, Parched and weary, thirsted While on yellow grass paths Malicious evening sun glances Ran through black trees around you, Blinding sun-ember glances, delighting in your pain? 'The wooer of truth ? You?' - thus they mocked 'No! Mere fool! A beast, a cunning, preying, creeping beast That must lie, That must knowingly, willingly lie: Lusting for prey, Camouflaged, A mask to itself, Prey to itself That - the wooer of truth? No! Mere fool! Mere poet! 'Bei abgehellter Luft' means literally when the air has cleared or brightened. Nietzsche is borrowing the exact phrase used by the German poet Paul Fleming ( - )inhis sonnet 'Auf Mons. Jakob Schevens seinen Geburtstag' ( Gedichte von Paul Fleming , ed. Julius Tittmann (Leipzig: F. A. Brockhaus, ), p. ). Grimms' Deutsches W orterbuch , the authoritative dictionary of the Germanlanguage, quotes both Fleming and Nietzsche for abhellen .However, in this context Nietzsche appears to use the verb abhellen to mean 'dimming' or 'darkening.'"}
{"text": "Merely speaking colorfully, From fools' masks shouting colorfully, Climbing around on lying word bridges, On colorful rainbows, Between false skies And false earths, Roaming around, hovering around - Mere fool! Mere poet! That - the wooer of truth? Not still, stiff, smooth, cold, Turned to statue, To a pillar of God, Not erected before temples, A god's gatekeeper: No! Hostile to such statues of truth, More at home in any wilderness than before temples, Full of feline mischief, Leaping through every window Swish! into every chance, Sniffing toward every jungle, Greedily, longingly sniffing, So that in jungles Among dappled beasts of prey You could run, sinfully healthy and colorful and beautiful, With lusty lips, Blissfully mocking, blissfully hellish, blissfully bloodthirsty, Run preying, creeping, lying - Or, like the eagle that long, Long gazes fixedly into abysses, Into its own abysses - Oh how they wind downward here, Down low, down into, Into ever deeper depths! Then, Suddenly, straight and tight, You spring to flight, Pounce on lambs, Steeply down, ravenously, Lusting for lambs, Wroth to all lamb souls,"}
{"text": "Grimly wroth to everything that looks Sheepish, lamb-eyed, curly wooled, Gray, with lamb and sheep benevolence! Thus eagle-like, panther-like Are the poet's longings, Are your longings beneath a thousand masks, You fool! You poet! You who viewed mankind As god and sheep - : Tearing to pieces the god in mankind, Like the sheep in mankind, And laughing while tearing - That , that is your bliss! A panther's and eagle's bliss! A poet's and fool's bliss!' - When the air grows dim, When already the moon's sickle Creeps along green, between Purple reds, and jealously: - hostile to day, With every step secretly Scything away at rosy hammocks Until they sink, Sink down into night, sink down, pale - Thus I myself once sank From my own truth-madness, From my longings of the day, Weary of the day, sick from light, - sank downward, eveningward, shadowward: By one truth Burned and thirsty: - do you still recall, do you recall, hot heart, How you thirsted then? - To be banned From all truth, Mere fool! Mere poet!"}
{"text": "Thus sang the magician; and all who were together went unwittingly, like birds, into the net of his cunning and melancholy rapture. Only the conscientious of spirit was not captured; he snatched the harp away from the magician and cried: 'Air! Let in the good air! Let Zarathustra in! You make this cave sultry and poisonous, you wicked old magician! You seduce us, you faker, you fine one, to unknown desires and wildernesses. And watch out when such as you start making speeches and fuss about truth ! Woe to all free spirits who are not on their guard for such magicians! Their freedom is done for: you teach and tempt us back into prisons - - you old melancholy devil, out of your lament rings a bird call; you resemble those who secretly incite sexual desires with their praise of chastity!' Thusspoke the conscientious one; but the old magician looked around, enjoyed his triumph, and for its sake swallowed the annoyance that the conscientious one caused him. 'Be quiet!' he said with a modest voice. 'Good songs want to reverberate well; one should remain silent for a long time after good songs. That is what all these do, the higher men. But you perhaps have understood little of my song? In you there is little of a magic spirit.' 'You praise me,' retorted the conscientious one. 'In so far as you distinguish me from yourself, well good! But you others, what do I see here? You're all still sitting there with lusting eyes - You free souls, where is your freedom now? Almost, it seems to me, you resemble those who have long watched wicked, dancing naked girls: your very souls are dancing! In you, you higher men, there must be more of that which the magician calls his evil magic and deceiving spirit - we must surely be very different. And truly, we spoke and thought enough together, before Zarathustra came home to his cave, to let me know that we are different. We are seeking something different up here too, you and I. I for one am seeking more security , that is why I came to Zarathustra. For he is still the most solid tower and will -"}
{"text": "- today, when everything is wobbling, when the whole earth is quaking. But you, when I look at the eyes that you make, it almost seems to me you are seeking more insecurity , Thus Spoke Zarathustra - more thrills, more danger, more earthquakes. What you are fond of, I almost suppose, but forgive my posing, you higher men - - what you are fond of is the worst, most dangerous life, the one that frightens me the most; the life of wild animals, woods, caves, steep mountains and labyrinthine gorges. Andnottheleaders away fromdangerdoyoulikebest,butinsteadthose who lead you astray from all paths, the seducers. But, if such fondness is real in you, then it seems to me impossible nonetheless. Fear, after all - that is a human being's original and basic feeling; from fear everything can be explained, original sin and original virtue. From fear my virtue also grew, it is called: science. For the fear of wild animals - it was bred longest in human beings, including the animal that he conceals within himself and fears - Zarathustra calls it 'the inner beast.' Such a long old fear, refined at last, made spiritual, intellectual - today, it seems to me, it is called: science .' - Thus spoke the conscientious one; but Zarathustra, who had just returned to his cave and heard and guessed the last speech, tossed a hand full of roses to the conscientious one and laughed at his 'truths.' 'What!' he cried. 'What did I hear just now? Truly, it seems to me, you are a fool or I myself am one; and your 'truth' I stand wham-bam on its head. Fear you see - is our exception. But courage and adventure and pleasure in uncertainty, in what is undared courage seems to me humanity's whole prehistory. Heenvied and robbed the wildest, most courageous animals of all their virtues: only thus did he become - human. This courage, refined at last, made spiritual, intellectual, this human courage with eagle's wings and snake's cleverness: it ,itseems to me, today is called - '"}
{"text": "' Zarathustra !' cried everyone sitting together, as if with one mouth, and they raised a great laughter then, and it rose from them like a heavy cloud. Even the magician laughed and said cleverly: 'Well then, he's gone, my evil spirit! And did I myself not warn you about him when I said that he was a deceiver and a cheat- and deceit spirit? Especially, you see, when he shows himself naked. But what can I do about his tricks! Did I create him and the world?"}
{"text": "Well then! Let's be good again and be cheerful! And even though Zarathustra looks angry - just look at him, he grudges me - - before night comes he will learn again to love and laud me, he cannot live long without committing such follies. He -loves his enemies: this art he understands best of all whom I have seen. But he takes revenge for it - on his friends!' Thus spoke the old magician, and the higher men applauded him, such that Zarathustra went around and shook the hands of his friends with malice and love - like someone who has to make up for something and apologize to everyone. But when in doing so he reached the door of his cave, then once again he had a craving for the good air outside and for his animals - and he wanted to slip out."}
{"text": "'Do not go away!' said the wanderer who called himself the shadow of Zarathustra. 'Stay with us, or else our old dull depression could befall us again. Already that old magician has regaled us with his worst, and just look, the good pious pope there has tears in his eyes and once again he's completely shipped out on the sea of melancholy. These kings may well put on a good face before us; of all of us today they learned that best after all! But if they did not have witnesses, I bet that the evil game would begin again with them too - - the evil game of drifting clouds, of damp melancholy, of veiled skies, of stolen suns, of howling autumn winds, - the evil game of our howling and crying in distress; stay with us, oh Zarathustra! Here there is much hidden misery that wants to speak, much evening, much cloud, much musty air! You nourished us with strong, manly fare and strong sayings: do not permit the wimpy womanish spirits to befall us again for dessert! You alone make the air around you strong and clear! Have I ever on earth found such good air as here with you in your cave? Many lands indeed have I seen, my nose learned to test and assess many kinds of air; but in your cave my nostrils taste their greatest treat!"}
{"text": "Unless - unless - oh forgive an old memory! Forgive me an old dessert song that I once composed among daughters of the desert - - for among them there was likewise good, bright, oriental air; there I was furthest from cloudy, damp, melancholy old Europe! Back then I loved such Oriental girls and a different blue sky, over which no clouds and no thoughts hang. You wouldn't believe how decently they sat there when they weren't dancing; deep, but without thoughts, like little secrets, like beribboned riddles, like dessert nuts - colorful and foreign to be sure! but without clouds; riddles that can be guessed: as a favor to such girls I then thought up a dessert psalm.' Thus spoke the wanderer and shadow; and before anyone answered him, he had already grasped the old magician's harp, crossed his legs and looked around dignified and wisely; but with his nostrils he slowly and questioningly inhaled the air like someone in new lands who savors the new, strange air. Then he began to sing with a kind of roaring voice. The desert grows: woe to him who harbors deserts! - Ha! Solemn! Indeed solemn! A worthy beginning! African solemn! Worthy of a lion, Or of a moral howling monkey - - but nothing for you, My most lovely lady friends, At whose feet I, For the first time, A European among palm trees, Ampermitted to sit. Selah. Wonderful truly! Here I sit now, Near the desert and already So distant again from the desert, Even in this nothingness ravaged:"}
{"text": "Namely swallowed By this smallest oasis - - it just now yawned wide open Its lovely mouth. The most fragrant of all little mouths: Then I fell in, Down, down through - among you, My most lovely lady friends! Selah. Hail, hail to that whale If he thus let his guest Be comfortable! - you understand My learned allusion? Hail to his belly If it was thus Such a lovely oasis belly, Like this one: which I doubt, however, - that's why I come from Europe, Which is more doubt ridden than all Elderly married women. May God improve it! Amen! Here I sit now, In this smallest oasis, Like a date, Brown, sweetened through, oozing gold, lusting For a rounded maiden's mouth, But even more for maidenly Ice-cold snowy-white incisor Front teeth: for these, after all, Languish the hearts of all hot dates. Selah. To the aforementioned southerly fruits Similar, all too similar I lie here, little Winged bugs Dancing and playing around me, Likewise even smaller More foolish malicious Wishes and fantasies - Besieged by you,"}
{"text": "You silent, you foreboding She-cats, Dudu and Suleika, -besphinxed , to stuff much feeling Into a single word: (Forgive me God This sin of language!) - I sit here, sniffing the best air, Paradise air truly, Bright light air, streaked with gold, Air as good as ever Fell down from the moon - Whether by chance, Or did it happen from mischief, As the ancient poets tell? I the doubter, however, Doubt it; that's why I come From Europe, Which is more doubt ridden than all Elderly married women. May God improve it! Amen! Drinking this most beautiful air, With nostrils swollen like cups, Without future, without memories, Thus I sit here, my Most lovely lady friends, And watch the palm tree As she, like a dancer, Sways and dips and swivels her hips, - one does it too if one watches too long! Like a dancer who, it seems to me, Already too long, dangerously long Always, always stood on one foot only? - which is why she forgot, it seems to me, The other leg? In vain, at least I looked for the missing Twin jewel - namely the other leg -"}
{"text": "In the holy proximity Of her most lovely, most delicate Little fan and flutter and flitter tinsel skirt. Indeed, my beautiful lady friends, if you would Believe me entirely: She's lost it! It's gone! Forever gone! The other leg! Oh what a shame about this other lovely leg! Where - might it while and grieve forlorn? The lonely leg? In fear perhaps of a Grim golden blond-locked Lion monster? Or perhaps even Gnawed off, nibbled away - Miserable, oh no! oh no! Nibbled away. Selah. Oh do not weep, Soft hearts! Do not weep, you Date hearts! Milk bosoms! You licorice-heart Little pouches! Weep no more, Pale Dudu! Be a man, Suleika! Courage! Courage! - Or is perhaps Something fortifying, heart-fortifying Called for here? An anointed saying? A solemn exhortation? - Ha! Up now, dignity! Blow, blow again, Bellows of virtue! Ha! Roar once more, Roar morally! As a moral lion Before daughters of the desert, roar! - For the howling of virtue,"}
{"text": "My most lovely lady friends, Is more than all European fervor, European voraciousness! And here I stand already, As a European, I cannot do otherwise, God help me! Amen! The desert grows: woe to him who harbors deserts !"}
{"text": "After the song of the wanderer and shadow all at once the cave became full of noise and laughter; and because the assembled guests all spoke at the same time, and even the ass no longer kept quiet amidst such encouragement, Zarathustra was overcome by a slight aversion and a bit of scorn for his visitors, even though he was glad for their cheerfulness. This, it seemed to him, was a sign of their convalescence. And so he slipped out into the open and spoke to his animals. 'Where is their distress now?' he said, and already he himself was relieved of his minor annoyance. 'In my company, it seems to me, they have unlearned their crying in distress! - Though unfortunately, not their crying.' And Zarathustra covered his ears, for just then the hee-yaw of the ass blended oddly with the noisy jubilation of these higher men. 'They're having fun,' he began again, 'and who knows? Perhaps at the expense of their host; and if they learned to laugh from me, then still it is not my laughing that they learned. But what does it matter? They're old people; they convalesce in their way, they laugh in their way: my ears have endured worse already without becoming testy. This day is a triumph; he is already retreating, he's fleeing, the spirit of gravity , my old arch-enemy! How well this day wants to end, which began so badly and so hard! And it wants to end. Already evening is coming; over the sea he rides, this good rider! How he sways, the blissful, homecoming one, in his purple saddle!"}
{"text": "The sky looks on clearly, the world lies deep; oh all you strange people who came to me, it's worth it indeed to live with me!' Thusspoke Zarathustra. And again the cries and laughter of the higher men came from the cave, so he began again. 'They are biting, my bait is working, their enemy is retreating from them too, the spirit of gravity. Already they're learning to laugh at themselves: do I hear correctly? Mymanlyfareisworking,myvimandvigorsayings;andtruly,Ididnot nourish them with gassy vegetables! But with warrior fare, with conqueror fare - I awakened new desires in them. New hopes live in their arms and legs, their hearts expand. They are finding new words, soon their spirit will breathe mischief. Such fare may not be for children, to be sure, nor for longing little women, old and young; their entrails are persuaded differently, their physician and teacher I am not. Nausea retreats from these higher men - well then! That is my victory. In my kingdom they're becoming secure, all their stupid shame runs away, they're pouring themselves out. They're pouring out their hearts, good hours are returning to them, they celebrate and ruminate - they're becoming grateful . That I take as the best sign; they're becoming grateful. It won't be long now and they will invent festivals and erect monuments to their old joys. They are convalescing !' Thus spoke Zarathustra gaily to his heart and he gazed outward; but his animals pressed up against him and honored his happiness and his silence. Suddenly, however, Zarathustra's ears were startled; for the cave which up till now had been full of noise and laughter became deathly still all at once - but his nose sensed an aromatic smoke and incense, as of burning pine cones. 'Whatis happening? What are they doing?' he asked himself and crept closer to the entrance, in order to watch his guests surreptitiously. But, wonder of wonders! What did he have to behold with his own eyes? '[S]ie denken sich Feste aus und stellen Denksteine ihren alten Freuden auf.' Kaufmann misread Freuden (joys) as Freunden (friends)."}
{"text": "'They've all gone pious again, they're praying , they're mad!' - he said and he was amazed beyond measure. And, in truth, all these higher men, the two kings, the retired pope, the wicked magician, the voluntary beggar, the wanderer and his shadow, the old soothsayer, the conscientious of spirit and the ugliest human being - they all kneeled there like children and devout little old women, and they worshiped the ass. And just then the ugliest human being began to gurgle and snort as though something unspeakable wanted to get out of him; but when he actually put it into words, behold, it was a pious, remarkable litany praising the worshiped and censed ass. This litany, however, sounded thus: Amen! And praise and honor and wisdom and thanks and glory and strength be to our god, from everlasting to everlasting! - But to this the ass brayed Hee-yaw. He carries our burden, he adopted the form of a servant, he is patient from the heart and never says No; and whoever loves his god, chastises him. - But to this the ass brayed Hee-yaw. He does not speak, unless it be to say Yaw to the world that he created; thus he praises his world. It is his slyness that does not speak; this way he is rarely found to be wrong. - But to this the ass brayed Hee-yaw. Homely he walks through the world. Gray is the body color in which he cloaks his virtue. If he has spirit, then he conceals it; but everyone believes in his long ears. - But to this the ass brayed Hee-yaw. What hidden wisdom is it, that he has long ears and always says Yaw and never No! Has he not created the world in his image, namely as stupid as possible? - But to this the ass brayed Hee-yaw. You walk ways that are straight and crooked; it matters little to you what seems straight or crooked to us human beings. Your kingdom is beyond good and evil. It is your innocence not to know what innocence is. - But to this the ass brayed Hee-yaw."}
{"text": "See now, how you push no one away, not the beggars, not the kings. The little children you let come to you, and when the mean boys bait you, then you simplemindedly say Hee-yaw. - But to this the ass brayed Hee-yaw."}
{"text": "Youlove she-asses and fresh figs, you are no picky eater. A thistle tickles your heart if you happen to be hungry. Therein lies the wisdom of a god. - But to this the ass brayed Hee-yaw."}
{"text": "At this point in the litany, however, Zarathustra could no longer control himself, cried Hee-yaw himself even louder than the ass, and leaped into the midst of his guests, who had gone mad. 'But what are you doing, you mortal children?' he cried, as he pulled the praying men off the floor and to their feet. 'Watch out that someone other than Zarathustra should see you: Anyone would conclude that with your new faith you were the most vicious blasphemers or the most foolish of all old little women! Andyouyourself, you old pope, how can you reconcile for yourself that you worship this ass here as God?' - 'Oh Zarathustra,' responded the pope, 'forgive me, but in matters of God I am more enlightened even than you. And that's how it should be. Better to worship God in this form, than in no form at all! Think about this dictum, my exalted friend; you will quickly realize that there is wisdom in such a dictum. He who said 'God is a spirit' - he took the biggest step and leap ever on earth toward disbelief: such words are not easy to rectify on earth! My old heart leaps and skips at the fact that there is still something to worship on earth. Forgive, oh Zarathustra, an old pious pope's heart! -' - 'And you,' said Zarathustra to the wanderer and shadow, 'you call andconsider yourself a free spirit? And yet here you perform such idolatry and popery? Your performance here is more wicked indeed than it is with your wicked brown girls, you wicked new believer!' 'Wicked enough,' answered the wanderer and shadow, 'you're right; but what can I do about it? The old God lives again, oh Zarathustra, say what you will. The ugliest human being is to blame for everything; he has awakened him again. And when he says that he once killed him: death is always a mere prejudice among gods.' Thus Spoke Zarathustra - 'And you,' said Zarathustra, 'you wicked old magician, what have you done! Who in these liberated times is supposed to believe in you anymore, if you believe in such asinine divinities?"}
{"text": "What you did was a stupidity; how could you, you clever one, commit such a stupidity!' 'Oh Zarathustra,' replied the clever magician, 'you're right, it was a stupidity - and it's been hard enough for me.' -'And you most of all,' said Zarathustra to the conscientious of spirit, 'lean your head on your hand and consider! Doesn't anything here go against your conscience? Isn't your spirit too clean for this praying and the steam of these Holy Joes?' 'There is something about it,' answered the conscientious one, leaning his head on his hand, 'there is something about this spectacle that actually does my spirit good. Maybe because I am not allowed to believe in God; but it is certain that God in this form seems most believable to me. God should be eternal, according to the witnessing of the most pious; whoever has that much time, takes his time. As slowly and as stupidly as possible: that way such a one can indeed go very far. And whoever has too much spirit, he may well become a fool even for stupidity and folly. Think about your own case, oh Zarathustra! Youyourself - indeed! Even you could well become an ass from superabundance and wisdom. Does a perfectly wise man not like to walk on crooked paths? Appearances would indicate this, oh Zarathustra your appearance!' -'Andfinally you yourself,' said Zarathustra and he turned toward the ugliest human being, who still lay on the floor, reaching up with his arm to the ass (for he was giving it wine to drink). 'Speak, you unspeakable one: what have you done here! You seem transformed to me, your eyes glow, the cloak of the sublime lies about your ugliness: What have you done? Is what they say true after all, that you awakened him again? And why? Were there not good grounds for killing and getting rid of him? Youyourself seem awakened to me; what have you done? Why did you revert? Why did you convert? Speak, you unspeakable one!' 'Oh Zarathustra,' replied the ugliest human being, 'you are a rogue!"}
{"text": "Whether he still lives or lives again or is thoroughly dead - which of us two knows that best? I ask you. Fourth and Final Part But I know one thing - it was from you yourself that I once learned, oh Zarathustra: whoever wants to kill most thoroughly, laughs . 'One kills not by wrath, but by laughter' - thus you once spoke. Oh Zarathustra, you hidden one, you annihilator without wrath, you dangerous saint - you are a rogue!' But then it happened that Zarathustra, astounded by the sheer number of such roguish answers, bounded back to the door of his cave and, facing all of his guests, cried out with a strong voice: 'Oh you foolish rascals, the lot of you, you jesters! Why do you dissemble and disguise yourselves before me? How the hearts of each of you squirmed with glee and malice that at last you had become as little children again, namely pious - - that at last you did again as children do, namely prayed, folded your hands and said 'dear God!' But now leave me this nursery, my own cave, where today all manner of childishness is at home. Cool your hot children's mischief and your heart's noise out here! To be sure, unless you become as little children, you shall not enter that kingdom of heaven. (And Zarathustra gestured upward with his hands.) But we do want to enter the kingdom of heaven at all: we have become men and so we want the kingdom of the earth .' And once again Zarathustra began to speak. 'Oh my new friends,' he said - 'you strange, you higher men, how well I like you now - - since you've become gay again! All of you have truly blossomed; it seems to me that flowers such as you require new festivals , -asmall brave nonsense, some kind of divine worship and ass festival, some kind of old gay Zarathustra fool, a sweeping wind that blows your souls bright. Do not forget this night and this ass festival, you higher men! This you invented in my cave, this I take as a good omen - such things are invented only by the convalescing!"}
{"text": "And if you celebrate it again, this ass festival, do it for your own sake, do it also for my sake! And in remembrance of me !' Thus spoke Zarathustra."}
{"text": "Meanwhile, however, one after another had stepped outdoors into the open and into the cool, pensive night; but Zarathustra himself led the ugliest human being by the hand, to show him his night world and the big round moon and the silver waterfalls near his cave. There at last they all stood together, nothing but old people, but with comforted, brave hearts and inwardly amazed that they felt so good on earth; but the mystery of the night came closer and closer to their hearts. And Zarathustra thought again to himself: 'Oh how well I like them now, these higher men!' but he did not say it aloud, for he honored their happiness and their silence. - But then something happened that was the most amazing thing of that amazing long day: the ugliest human being began once more and for the last time to gurgle and to snort, and when he had managed to put it in words, behold, a question leaped round and ready from his mouth, a good, deep, clear question, which moved the hearts of all who were listening to him. 'My friends, all of you,' spoke the ugliest human being, 'what do you think? For the sake of this day I amsatisfied for the first time that I have lived my entire life. And it's still not enough for me to attest as much as I do. It's worth it to live on earth: one day, one festival with Zarathustra taught me to love the earth. 'Was that - life?' I want to say to death. 'Well then! One More Time!' My friends, what do you think? Do you not want to say to death, as I do: Was that - life? For Zarathustra's sake, well then! One More Time!' - Thus spoke the ugliest human being; but it was not long before midnight. And what do you think happened then? As soon as the higher men had heard his question, all at once they became aware of their transformation and convalescence, and of who gave it to them. Then they"}
{"text": "rushed toward Zarathustra, thanking, honoring, caressing him, kissing his hands, each in his own manner; such that some laughed, some wept. But the old soothsayer danced with joy; and even if, as some chroniclers opine, he was full of sweet wine at the time, then he was certainly even more full of sweet life and he had renounced all weariness. There are even some who say that the ass also danced then; not for nothing, after all, had the ugliest human being earlier given it wine to drink. Now this may have happened thus or otherwise, and if in truth on that evening the ass did not dance, then clearly even greater and rarer wonders took place there, than the dancing of an ass would have been. In sum, as Zarathustra's saying goes: 'What does it matter!' But as this went on with the ugliest human being, Zarathustra stood there like a drunken man; his tongue slurred, his feet faltered. And who could even guess what thoughts were speeding then through Zarathustra's soul? Visibly, however, his spirit receded and flew ahead and was in remote distances and at the same time 'upon a high ridge,' as it is written, 'between two seas, -betweenthepast and the future, wandering as a heavy cloud.' Gradually, however, as the higher men held him in their arms, he came to himself a bit and used his hands to fend away the throng of the revering and the worrying; yet he did not speak. All at once though he quickly turned his head, because he seemed to hear something: then he put his finger to his lips and said: ' Come !'"}
{"text": "And immediately it became still and mysterious all around; but from the depths the sound of a bell rose slowly. Zarathustra listened for it, as did the higher men; then he put his finger to his lips once more and said again: ' Come! Come! It's going on midnight !' - And his voice had changed.Butstill he did not stir from his place; then it grew even more still and mysterious, and everything listened, even the ass, and Zarathustra's animals of honor, the eagle and the snake, and also the cave of Zarathustra and the big cool moon and the very night. But Zarathustra put his hand to his lips for the third time and said: ' Come! Come! Come! Let us walk now! It is the hour: let us walk now into the night! ' Thus Spoke Zarathustra You higher men, it's going on midnight; I want to whisper something in your ears, like that old bell whispers it into my ear - - as secretly, as terribly, as cordially as that midnight bell, which has experienced more than any human, says it to me: - which long ago tallied the heartbeat beatings of your fathers - oh! oh! how it sighs! How it laughs in dream delight, the old, the deep deep midnight! Still! Still! Then things are heard that by day may not be said; but now, in the cool air, where the noise of your hearts has fled - -now it speaks, now it listens, now it creeps into nocturnal, over-awake souls - oh! oh! how it sighs! How it laughs in dream delight! - don't you hear, how it secretly, terribly, cordially speaks to you , the old, the deep deep midnight? Oh mankind, pray! Woe to me! Where has time gone? Did I not sink into deep wells? The world sleeps - Alas! Alas! The dog howls, the moon shines. I would sooner die, die, than tell you what my midnight heart is thinking right now. Now I've died already. It's gone. Spider, why do you spin around me? Do you want blood? Oh! Oh! The dew falls, the hour comes -"}
{"text": "- the hour when I shiver and freeze, which asks and asks and asks: 'who has enough heart for it? - who shall be the ruler of the earth? Who wants to say: thus you shall flow, you great and little streams!' -the hour approaches: oh mankind, you higher men, pray! This speech is for fine ears, for your ears what does deep midnight have to say ? It carries me away, my soul dances. Day's work! Day's work! Who shall be ruler of the earth? The moon is cool, the wind is silent. Alas! Alas! Have you flown high enough? You dance: but a leg is not a wing. Fourth and Final Part You good dancers, now all joy is gone, wine became resin, every cup became brittle, the graves stammer. You did not fly high enough; now the graves stammer: 'Redeem the dead! Why is it night for so long? Does the moon not make us drunk?' You higher men, redeem the graves, awaken the corpses! Oh, why does the worm still bore? It approaches, the hour approaches - - the bell growls, the heart still rattles, the wood worm still bores, the heart worm. Alas! Alas! The world is deep! Sweet lyre! Sweet lyre! I love your tone, your drunken, sunken croaking tone! - From how long ago, from how far away your tone comes to me, from afar, from ponds of love! You old bell, you sweet lyre! Every pain tore into your heart, father pain, fathers' pain, forefathers' pain, your speech grew ripe - - ripe like golden autumns and afternoons, like my hermit's heart now you speak: the world itself became ripe, the grape turns brown, - now it wants to die, die of happiness. You higher men, do you not smell it? A fragrance wells up mysteriously, -afragrance and aroma of eternity, a rosy blissful, brown golden wine aroma of ancient happiness, - of drunken, midnight, dying happiness, which sings: the world is deep and deeper than the grasp of day! Let me be! Let me be! I am too pure for you. Do not touch me! Did my world not just become perfect?"}
{"text": "My skin is too pure for your hands. Let me be, you stupid, clumsy, stifling day! Is midnight not brighter? The purest shall be rulers of the earth, the least known, strongest, the midnight-souled, who are brighter and deeper than any day. Oh day, you grope for me? You fumble for my happiness? I seem rich to you, lonely, buried treasure, a chamber of gold? Oh world, you want me ? Am I worldly to you? Am I spiritual to you? AmI godlike to you? But day and world, you are too crude - Thus Spoke Zarathustra - have smarter hands, reach for deeper happiness, for deeper unhappiness, reach for some kind of god - do not reach for me: -myunhappiness, my happiness is deep, you strange day, but still I am no god, no god's hell: deep is its pain . God's pain is deeper, you strange world! Reach for god's pain, not for me! What am I? A drunken sweet lyre - a midnight lyre, a bell-toad that no one understands, but that must speak, before the deaf, you higher men! For you do not understand me! Gone! Gone! Oh youth! Oh noon! Oh afternoon! Now evening's come and night and midnight - the dog howls, the wind: - is the wind not a dog? It whimpers, it yelps, it howls. Alas! Oh how midnight sighs, how it laughs, how it rattles and wheezes! How she speaks soberly just now, this drunken poetess! Perhaps she overdrank her drunkenness? She became over-awake? She ruminates? - she ruminates her pain, in dream, the old deep midnight, and even more her joy. Because joy, even if pain is deep: Joy is deeper still than misery . Yougrapevine! Why do you praise me! I cut you! I am cruel, you bleed what does your praise want of my drunken cruelty? 'What became perfect, everything ripe - wants to die!' so you speak. Blessed, blessed be the vintner's knife! But everything unripe wants to live, alas! Pain says: 'Refrain! Away, you pain!' But everything that suffers wants to live, to become ripe and joyful and longing,"}
{"text": "- longing for what is farther, higher, brighter. 'I want heirs,' thus speaks all that suffers, 'I want children, I do not want myself ' - But joy does not want heirs, not children - joy wants itself, wants eternity, wants recurrence, wants everything eternally the same. Pain says: 'Break, bleed, heart! Walk, legs! Wings, fly! Up! Upward! Pain!' Well then, well now, old heart! Pain says: 'Refrain! ' Fourth and Final Part You higher men, what do you think? Am I a soothsayer? A dreamer? A drunk? A dream interpreter? A midnight bell? A drop of dew? A haze and fragrance of eternity? Do you not hear it? Do you not smell it? Just now my world became perfect, midnight is also noon - Pain is also a joy, a curse is also a blessing, night is also a sun - go away or else you will learn: a wise man is also a fool. Have you ever said Yes to one joy? Oh my friends, then you also said Yes t o all pain. All things are enchained, entwined, enamored - - if you ever wanted one time two times, if you ever said 'I like you, happiness! Whoosh! Moment!' then you wanted everything back! -Everything anew, everything eternal, everything enchained, entwined, enamored, oh thus you loved the world - - you eternal ones, love it eternally and for all time; and say to pain also: refrain, but come back! For all joy wants - eternity! All joy want the eternity of all things, wants honey, wants resin, wants drunken midnight, wants graves, wants tomb-tears' solace, wants gilded sunset - -what doesjoynotwant?Itisthirstier, heartier, hungrier, more terrible, more mysterious than all pain, it wants itself ,itbites into itself , the ring's will wrestles in it - - it wants love, it wants hate, it is super-rich, bestows, throws away, begs for someone to take it, thanks the taker, it would like to be hated - -sorich is its joy that it thirsts for pain, for hell, for hate, for disgrace, for the cripple, for world - this world, oh you know it well!"}
{"text": "You higher men, it longs for you, does joy, the unruly, blissful one - for your pain, you failures! All eternal joy longs for failures. For all joy wants itself, and therefore it wants all misery too! Oh happiness, oh pain! Oh break, my heart! You higher men, learn this, joy wants eternity, - Joy wants the eternity of all things, wants deep, wants deep eternity! Thus Spoke Zarathustra Have you now learned my song? Have you guessed what it means? Well then! Well now! You higher men, then sing me my new roundelay! Sing me this song yourselves now, whose name is 'One More Time,' whose meaning is 'in all eternity!' - sing, you higher men, Zarathustra's roundelay! Oh mankind, pray! What does deep midnight have to say? 'From sleep, from sleep From deepest dream I made my way: The world is deep, And deeper than the grasp of day. Deep is its pain -, Joy - deeper still than misery: Pain says: Refrain! Yet all joy wants eternity - - Wants deep, wants deep eternity.'"}
{"text": "But in the morning after this night Zarathustra sprang from his sleeping place, girded his loins and came out from his cave, glowing and strong, like a morning sun that emerges from dark mountains. 'You great star,' he said, as he had said before, 'what would all your happiness be if you did not have those for whom you shine? Andif they stayed in their rooms while you are already awake and come and bestow and distribute - how would your proud shame be angered! Well then! They're sleeping still, these higher men, while I am awake: they are not my proper companions! Not for them do I wait here in my mountains. I want to go to my work, to my day; but they do not understand what the signs of my morning are, my step - is not a wake up call for them. They are sleeping still in my cave, their dream still ruminates on my midnights. The ear that hearkens for me - the heeding ear is still lacking in their limbs.' - Thus Zarathustra spoke to his heart as the sun was rising; then he glanced questioning into the heights, for he heard above him the sharp Fourth and Final Part call of his eagle. 'Well then!' he shouted upward, 'thus it pleases and suits me. My animals are awake, because I am awake. My eagle is awake and like me he honors the sun. With eagle's talons he grasps for the new light. You are my proper animals; I love you. But I still lack the proper human beings!' - Thus spoke Zarathustra; but then it happened that he suddenly heard himself swarmed and fluttered around as if by countless birds - but the whirring of so many wings and the thronging around his head was so great that he had to close his eyes. And truly, like a cloud it descended upon him, like a cloud of arrows pouring down upon a new enemy. But see, here it was a cloud of love, and it poured over a new friend."}
{"text": "'What is happening to me?' thought Zarathustra in his astonished heart, and he sat down slowly on the big stone that lay near the exit of his cave. But as he reached with his hands around and above and below himself, warding off the affectionate birds, something even more extraordinary happened to him: he reached unwittingly into a thick, warm tangle of hair, and at the same time a roar sounded before him - a soft, long lion's roar. ' The sign is coming ' said Zarathustra and his heart transformed. And in truth, as it grew brighter around him, there at his feet lay a yellow, powerful beast, and it pressed its head against his knee and did not want to leave him out of love, acting like a dog that finds its old master again. And the doves with their love were no less eager than the lion; and each time when a dove flitted over the nose of the lion, the lion shook its head and was amazed and laughed. To all of this Zarathustra had only one thing to say: ' My children are near, my children ' - then he became completely mute. But his heart was freed, and from his eyes tears dropped down and fell onto his hands. And he heeded nothing more and sat there, unmoving and not even warding off the animals. Then the doves flew back and forth and lighted on his shoulders and caressed his white hair and did not tire of tenderness and jubilation. But the strong lion kept licking the tears that fell onto Zarathustra's hands, roaring and growling bashfully. Thus acted these animals. - All this lasted a long time, or a short time: for, properly speaking, there is no time on earth for such things -. Meanwhile, however, the higher men in Zarathustra's cave had awakened and were forming a procession, in order to approach Zarathustra and offer their morning greeting. For Thus Spoke Zarathustra they had discovered, when they awakened, that he was no longer among them. But as they reached the door of the cave, and the noise of their footsteps preceded them, the lion started violently, turned suddenly away from Zarathustra and leaped, roaring wildly, toward the cave; and the higher men, when they heard it roaring, all cried out as if with one voice, and fled back and disappeared in a flash."}