Thus Spake Zarathustra Friedrich Nietzsche (best thriller novels of all time .txt) đ
- Author: Friedrich Nietzsche
Book online «Thus Spake Zarathustra Friedrich Nietzsche (best thriller novels of all time .txt) đ». Author Friedrich Nietzsche
As a white ox would I like to see him, which, snorting and lowing, walketh before the ploughshare: and his lowing should also laud all that is earthly!
Dark is still his countenance; the shadow of his hand danceth upon it. Oâershadowed is still the sense of his eye.
His deed itself is still the shadow upon him: his doing obscureth the doer. Not yet hath he overcome his deed.
To be sure, I love in him the shoulders of the ox: but now do I want to see also the eye of the angel.
Also his hero-will hath he still to unlearn: an exalted one shall he be, and not only a sublime one:â âthe ether itself should raise him, the will-less one!
He hath subdued monsters, he hath solved enigmas. But he should also redeem his monsters and enigmas; into heavenly children should he transform them.
As yet hath his knowledge not learned to smile, and to be without jealousy; as yet hath his gushing passion not become calm in beauty.
Verily, not in satiety shall his longing cease and disappear, but in beauty! Gracefulness belongeth to the munificence of the magnanimous.
His arm across his head: thus should the hero repose; thus should he also surmount his repose.
But precisely to the hero is beauty the hardest thing of all. Unattainable is beauty by all ardent wills.
A little more, a little less: precisely this is much here, it is the most here.
To stand with relaxed muscles and with unharnessed will: that is the hardest for all of you, ye sublime ones!
When power becometh gracious and descendeth into the visibleâ âI call such condescension, beauty.
And from no one do I want beauty so much as from thee, thou powerful one: let thy goodness be thy last self-conquest.
All evil do I accredit to thee: therefore do I desire of thee the good.
Verily, I have often laughed at the weaklings, who think themselves good because they have crippled paws!
The virtue of the pillar shalt thou strive after: more beautiful doth it ever become, and more gracefulâ âbut internally harder and more sustainingâ âthe higher it riseth.
Yea, thou sublime one, one day shalt thou also be beautiful, and hold up the mirror to thine own beauty.
Then will thy soul thrill with divine desires; and there will be adoration even in thy vanity!
For this is the secret of the soul: when the hero hath abandoned it, then only approacheth it in dreamsâ âthe superhero.â â
Thus spake Zarathustra.
XXXVI The Land of CultureToo far did I fly into the future: a horror seized upon me.
And when I looked around me, lo! there time was my sole contemporary.
Then did I fly backwards, homewardsâ âand always faster. Thus did I come unto you, ye present-day men, and into the land of culture.
For the first time brought I an eye to see you, and good desire: verily, with longing in my heart did I come.
But how did it turn out with me? Although so alarmedâ âI had yet to laugh! Never did mine eye see anything so motley-coloured!
I laughed and laughed, while my foot still trembled, and my heart as well. âHere forsooth, is the home of all the paintpots,ââ âsaid I.
With fifty patches painted on faces and limbsâ âso sat ye there to mine astonishment, ye present-day men!
And with fifty mirrors around you, which flattered your play of colours, and repeated it!
Verily, ye could wear no better masks, ye present-day men, than your own faces! Who couldâ ârecognise you!
Written all over with the characters of the past, and these characters also pencilled over with new charactersâ âthus have ye concealed yourselves well from all decipherers!
And though one be a trier of the reins, who still believeth that ye have reins! Out of colours ye seem to be baked, and out of glued scraps.
All times and peoples gaze diverse-coloured out of your veils; all customs and beliefs speak diverse-coloured out of your gestures.
He who would strip you of veils and wrappers, and paints and gestures, would just have enough left to scare the crows.
Verily, I myself am the scared crow that once saw you naked, and without paint; and I flew away when the skeleton ogled at me.
Rather would I be a day-labourer in the netherworld, and among the shades of the bygone!â âFatter and fuller than ye, are forsooth the netherworldlings!
This, yea this, is bitterness to my bowels, that I can neither endure you naked nor clothed, ye present-day men!
All that is unhomelike in the future, and whatever maketh strayed birds shiver, is verily more homelike and familiar than your âreality.â
For thus speak ye: âReal are we wholly, and without faith and superstitionâ: thus do ye plume yourselvesâ âalas! even without plumes!
Indeed, how would ye be able to believe, ye diverse-coloured ones!â âye who are pictures of all that hath ever been believed!
Perambulating refutations are ye, of belief itself, and a dislocation of all thought. Untrustworthy ones: thus do I call you, ye real ones!
All periods prate against one another in your spirits; and the dreams and pratings of all periods were even realer than your awakeness!
Unfruitful are ye: therefore do ye lack belief. But he who had to create, had always his presaging dreams and astral premonitionsâ âand believed in believing!â â
Half-open doors are ye, at which gravediggers wait. And this is your reality: âEverything deserveth to perish.â
Alas, how ye stand there before me, ye unfruitful ones; how lean your ribs! And many of you surely have had knowledge thereof.
Many a one hath said: âThere hath surely a God filched something from me secretly whilst I slept? Verily, enough to make a girl for himself therefrom!
âAmazing is the poverty of my ribs!â thus hath spoken many a present-day man.
Yea, ye are laughable unto me, ye present-day men! And especially when ye marvel at yourselves!
And woe unto me if I could not laugh at your marvelling, and had to swallow all that is repugnant in your platters!
As it is, however, I will make lighter of you, since I have to carry what is
Comments (0)