Thus Spake Zarathustra Friedrich Nietzsche (best thriller novels of all time .txt) 📖

seemed to me dancing of Gods, and wantoning of Gods, and the world unloosed and unbridled and fleeing back to itself:⁠—

—As an eternal self-fleeing and re-seeking of one another of many Gods, as the blessed self-contradicting, recommuning, and refraternising with one another of many Gods:⁠—

Where all time seemed to me a blessed mockery of moments, where necessity was freedom itself, which played happily with the goad of freedom:⁠—

Where I also found again mine old devil and arch-enemy, the spirit of gravity, and all that it created: constraint, law, necessity and consequence and purpose and will and good and evil:⁠—

For must there not be that which is danced over, danced beyond? Must there not, for the sake of the nimble, the nimblest⁠—be moles and clumsy dwarfs?⁠—

III

There was it also where I picked up from the path the word “Superman,” and that man is something that must be surpassed.

—That man is a bridge and not a goal⁠—rejoicing over his noontides and evenings, as advances to new rosy dawns:

—The Zarathustra word of the great noontide, and whatever else I have hung up over men like purple evening-afterglows.

Verily, also new stars did I make them see, along with new nights; and over cloud and day and night, did I spread out laughter like a gay-coloured canopy.

I taught them all my poetisation and aspiration: to compose and collect into unity what is fragment in man, and riddle and fearful chance;⁠—

—As composer, riddle-reader, and redeemer of chance, did I teach them to create the future, and all that hath been⁠—to redeem by creating.

The past of man to redeem, and every “It was” to transform, until the Will saith: “But so did I will it! So shall I will it⁠—”

—This did I call redemption; this alone taught I them to call redemption.⁠⸺

Now do I await my redemption⁠—that I may go unto them for the last time.

For once more will I go unto men: amongst them will my sun set; in dying will I give them my choicest gift!

From the sun did I learn this, when it goeth down, the exuberant one: gold doth it then pour into the sea, out of inexhaustible riches⁠—

—So that the poorest fisherman roweth even with golden oars! For this did I once see, and did not tire of weeping in beholding it.⁠⸺

Like the sun will also Zarathustra go down: now sitteth he here and waiteth, old broken tables around him, and also new tables⁠—half-written.

IV

Behold, here is a new table; but where are my brethren who will carry it with me to the valley and into hearts of flesh?⁠—

Thus demandeth my great love to the remotest ones: be not considerate of thy neighbour! Man is something that must be surpassed.

There are many diverse ways and modes of surpassing: see thou thereto! But only a buffoon thinketh: “man can also be overleapt.”

Surpass thyself even in thy neighbour: and a right which thou canst seize upon, shalt thou not allow to be given thee!

What thou doest can no one do to thee again. Lo, there is no requital.

He who cannot command himself shall obey. And many a one can command himself, but still sorely lacketh self-obedience!

V

Thus wisheth the type of noble souls: they desire to have nothing gratuitously, least of all, life.

He who is of the populace wisheth to live gratuitously; we others, however, to whom life hath given itself⁠—we are ever considering what we can best give in return!

And verily, it is a noble dictum which saith: “What life promiseth us, that promise will we keep⁠—to life!”

One should not wish to enjoy where one doth not contribute to the enjoyment. And one should not wish to enjoy!

For enjoyment and innocence are the most bashful things. Neither like to be sought for. One should have them⁠—but one should rather seek for guilt and pain!⁠—

VI

O my brethren, he who is a firstling is ever sacrificed. Now, however, are we firstlings!

We all bleed on secret sacrificial altars, we all burn and broil in honour of ancient idols.

Our best is still young: this exciteth old palates. Our flesh is tender, our skin is only lambs’ skin:⁠—how could we not excite old idol-priests!

In ourselves dwelleth he still, the old idol-priest, who broileth our best for his banquet. Ah, my brethren, how could firstlings fail to be sacrifices!

But so wisheth our type; and I love those who do not wish to preserve themselves, the down-going ones do I love with mine entire love: for they go beyond.⁠—

VII

To be true⁠—that can few be! And he who can, will not! Least of all, however, can the good be true.

Oh, those good ones! Good men never speak the truth. For the spirit, thus to be good, is a malady.

They yield, those good ones, they submit themselves; their heart repeateth, their soul obeyeth: he, however, who obeyeth, doth not listen to himself!

All that is called evil by the good, must come together in order that one truth may be born. O my brethren, are ye also evil enough for this truth?

The daring venture, the prolonged distrust, the cruel Nay, the tedium, the cutting-into-the-quick⁠—how seldom do these come together! Out of such seed, however⁠—is truth produced!

Beside the bad conscience hath hitherto grown all knowledge! Break up, break up, ye discerning ones, the old tables!

VIII

When the water hath planks, when gangways and railings o’erspan the stream, verily, he is not believed who then saith: “All is in flux.”

But even the simpletons contradict him. “What?” say the simpletons, “all in flux? Planks and railings are still over the stream!

“Over the stream all is stable, all the values of things, the bridges and bearings, all ‘good’ and ‘evil’: these are all stable!”⁠—

Cometh, however, the hard winter, the stream-tamer, then learn even the wittiest distrust, and verily, not only the simpletons then say: “Should not everything⁠—stand still?”

“Fundamentally standeth everything still”⁠—that is an appropriate winter doctrine, good cheer for an unproductive period, a great comfort for