Thus Spake Zarathustra Friedrich Nietzsche (best thriller novels of all time .txt) đ
- Author: Friedrich Nietzsche
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O my soul, there is nowhere a soul which could be more loving and more comprehensive and more extensive! Where could future and past be closer together than with thee?
O my soul, I have given thee everything, and all my hands have become empty by thee:â âand now! Now sayest thou to me, smiling and full of melancholy: âWhich of us oweth thanks?â â
ââ âDoth the giver not owe thanks because the receiver received? Is bestowing not a necessity? Is receiving notâ âpitying?ââ â
O my soul, I understand the smiling of thy melancholy: thine overabundance itself now stretcheth out longing hands!
Thy fullness looketh forth over raging seas, and seeketh and waiteth: the longing of overfullness looketh forth from the smiling heaven of thine eyes!
And verily, O my soul! Who could see thy smiling and not melt into tears? The angels themselves melt into tears through the over-graciousness of thy smiling.
Thy graciousness and over-graciousness, is it which will not complain and weep: and yet, O my soul, longeth thy smiling for tears, and thy trembling mouth for sobs.
âIs not all weeping complaining? And all complaining, accusing?â Thus speakest thou to thyself; and therefore, O my soul, wilt thou rather smile than pour forth thy griefâ â
âThan in gushing tears pour forth all thy grief concerning thy fullness, and concerning the craving of the vine for the vintager and vintage-knife!
But wilt thou not weep, wilt thou not weep forth thy purple melancholy, then wilt thou have to sing, O my soul!â âBehold, I smile myself, who foretell thee this:
âThou wilt have to sing with passionate song, until all seas turn calm to hearken unto thy longingâ â
âUntil over calm longing seas the bark glideth, the golden marvel, around the gold of which all good, bad, and marvellous things frisk:â â
âAlso many large and small animals, and everything that hath light marvellous feet, so that it can run on violet-blue pathsâ â
âTowards the golden marvel, the spontaneous bark, and its master: he, however, is the vintager who waiteth with the diamond vintage-knifeâ â
âThy great deliverer, O my soul, the nameless oneâ âžșfor whom future songs only will find names! And verily, already hath thy breath the fragrance of future songsâ â
âAlready glowest thou and dreamest, already drinkest thou thirstily at all deep echoing wells of consolation, already reposeth thy melancholy in the bliss of future songs!â âžș
O my soul, now have I given thee all, and even my last possession, and all my hands have become empty by thee:â âthat I bade thee sing, behold, that was my last thing to give!
That I bade thee singâ âsay now, say: which of us nowâ âoweth thanks?â âBetter still, however: sing unto me, sing, O my soul! And let me thank thee!â â
Thus spake Zarathustra.
LIX The Second Dance-Song IâInto thine eyes gazed I lately, O Life: gold saw I gleam in thy night-eyesâ âmy heart stood still with delight:
ââ âA golden bark saw I gleam on darkened waters, a sinking, drinking, reblinking, golden swing-bark!
âAt my dance-frantic foot, dost thou cast a glance, a laughing, questioning, melting, thrown glance:
âTwice only movedst thou thy rattle with thy little handsâ âthen did my feet swing with dance-fury.â â
âMy heels reared aloft, my toes they hearkenedâ âthee they would know: hath not the dancer his earâ âin his toe!
âUnto thee did I spring: then fledst thou back from my bound; and towards me waved thy fleeing, flying tresses round!
âAway from thee did I spring, and from thy snaky tresses: then stoodst thou there half-turned, and in thine eye caresses.
âWith crooked glancesâ âdost thou teach me crooked courses; on crooked courses learn my feetâ âcrafty fancies!
âI fear thee near, I love thee far; thy flight allureth me, thy seeking secureth me:â âI suffer, but for thee, what would I not gladly bear!
âFor thee, whose coldness inflameth, whose hatred misleadeth, whose flight enchaineth, whose mockeryâ âpleadeth:
ââ âWho would not hate thee, thou great bindress, inwindress, temptress, seekress, findress! Who would not love thee, thou innocent, impatient, wind-swift, child-eyed sinner!
âWhither pullest thou me now, thou paragon and tomboy? And now foolest thou me fleeing; thou sweet romp dost annoy!
âI dance after thee, I follow even faint traces lonely. Where art thou? Give me thy hand! Or thy finger only!
âHere are caves and thickets: we shall go astray!â âHalt! Stand still! Seest thou not owls and bats in fluttering fray?
âThou bat! Thou owl! Thou wouldst play me foul? Where are we? From the dogs hast thou learned thus to bark and howl.
âThou gnashest on me sweetly with little white teeth; thine evil eyes shoot out upon me, thy curly little mane from underneath!
âThis is a dance over stock and stone: I am the hunterâ âwilt thou be my hound, or my chamois anon?
âNow beside me! And quickly, wickedly springing! Now up! And over!â âAlas! I have fallen myself overswinging!
âOh, see me lying, thou arrogant one, and imploring grace! Gladly would I walk with theeâ âin some lovelier place!
ââ âIn the paths of love, through bushes variegated, quiet, trim! Or there along the lake, where goldfishes dance and swim!
âThou art now aweary? There above are sheep and sunset stripes: is it not sweet to sleepâ âthe shepherd pipes?
âThou art so very weary? I carry thee thither; let just thine arm sink! And art thou thirstyâ âI should have something; but thy mouth would not like it to drink!â â
ââ âOh, that cursed, nimble, supple serpent and lurking-witch! Where art thou gone? But in my face do I feel through thy hand, two spots and red blotches itch!
âI am verily weary of it, ever thy sheepish shepherd to be. Thou witch, if I have hitherto sung unto thee, now shalt thouâ âcry unto me!
âTo the rhythm of my whip shalt thou dance and cry! I forget not my whip?â âNot I!ââ â
IIThen did Life answer me thus, and kept thereby her fine ears closed:
âO Zarathustra! Crack not so terribly with thy whip! Thou knowest surely that noise killeth thoughtâ âand just now there came to me such delicate thoughts.
âWe are both of us genuine neâer-do-wells and neâer-do-ills. Beyond good and evil found we our island
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