Thus Spake Zarathustra Friedrich Nietzsche (best thriller novels of all time .txt) đ
- Author: Friedrich Nietzsche
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âThe wildest and most courageous animals hath he envied and robbed of all their virtues: thus only did he becomeâ âman.
âThis courage, at last become subtle, spiritual and intellectual, this human courage, with eagleâs pinions and serpentâs wisdom: this, it seemeth to me, is called at presentâ ââ
âZarathustra!â cried all of them there assembled, as if with one voice, and burst out at the same time into a great laughter; there arose, however, from them as it were a heavy cloud. Even the magician laughed, and said wisely: âWell! It is gone, mine evil spirit!
âAnd did I not myself warn you against it when I said that it was a deceiver, a lying and deceiving spirit?
âEspecially when it showeth itself naked. But what can I do with regard to its tricks! Have I created it and the world?
âWell! Let us be good again, and of good cheer! And although Zarathustra looketh with evil eyeâ âjust see him! he disliketh meâ â:
ââ âEre night cometh will he again learn to love and laud me; he cannot live long without committing such follies.
âHeâ âloveth his enemies: this art knoweth he better than anyone I have seen. But he taketh revenge for itâ âon his friends!â
Thus spake the old magician, and the higher men applauded him; so that Zarathustra went round, and mischievously and lovingly shook hands with his friendsâ âlike one who hath to make amends and apologise to everyone for something. When however he had thereby come to the door of his cave, lo, then had he again a longing for the good air outside, and for his animalsâ âand wished to steal out.
LXXVI Among Daughters of the Desert IâGo not away!â said then the wanderer who called himself Zarathustraâs shadow, âabide with usâ âotherwise the old gloomy affliction might again fall upon us.
âNow hath that old magician given us of his worst for our good, and lo! the good, pious pope there hath tears in his eyes, and hath quite embarked again upon the sea of melancholy.
âThose kings may well put on a good air before us still: for that have they learned best of us all at present! Had they however no one to see them, I wager that with them also the bad game would again commenceâ â
ââ âThe bad game of drifting clouds, of damp melancholy, of curtained heavens, of stolen suns, of howling autumn-winds,
ââ âThe bad game of our howling and crying for help! Abide with us, O Zarathustra! Here there is much concealed misery that wisheth to speak, much evening, much cloud, much damp air!
âThou hast nourished us with strong food for men, and powerful proverbs: do not let the weakly, womanly spirits attack us anew at dessert!
âThou alone makest the air around thee strong and clear! Did I ever find anywhere on earth such good air as with thee in thy cave?
âMany lands have I seen, my nose hath learned to test and estimate many kinds of air: but with thee do my nostrils taste their greatest delight!
âUnless it beâ âunless it beâ â, do forgive an old recollection! Forgive me an old after-dinner song, which I once composed amongst daughters of the desert:â â
âFor with them was there equally good, clear, Oriental air; there was I furthest from cloudy, damp, melancholy Old-Europe!
âThen did I love such Oriental maidens and other blue kingdoms of heaven, over which hang no clouds and no thoughts.
âYe would not believe how charmingly they sat there, when they did not dance, profound, but without thoughts, like little secrets, like beribboned riddles, like dessert-nutsâ â
âMany-hued and foreign, forsooth! but without clouds: riddles which can be guessed: to please such maidens I then composed an after-dinner psalm.â
Thus spake the wanderer who called himself Zarathustraâs shadow; and before anyone answered him, he had seized the harp of the old magician, crossed his legs, and looked calmly and sagely around him:â âwith his nostrils, however, he inhaled the air slowly and questioningly, like one who in new countries tasteth new foreign air. Afterward he began to sing with a kind of roaring.
IIThe deserts grow: woe him who doth them hide!
âHa!
Solemnly!
In effect solemnly!
A worthy beginning!
Afric manner, solemnly!
Of a lion worthy,
Or perhaps of a virtuous howl-monkeyâ â
âBut itâs naught to you,
Ye friendly damsels dearly loved,
At whose own feet to me,
The first occasion,
To a European under palm-trees,
A seat is now granted. Selah.
Wonderful, truly!
Here do I sit now,
The desert nigh, and yet I am
So far still from the desert,
Even in naught yet deserted:
That is, Iâm swallowed down
By this the smallest oasisâ â:
âIt opened up just yawning,
Its loveliest mouth agape,
Most sweet-odoured of all mouthlets:
Then fell I right in,
Right down, right throughâ âin âmong you,
Ye friendly damsels dearly loved! Selah.
Hail! hail! to that whale, fishlike,
If it thus for its guestâs convenience
Made things nice!â â(ye well know,
Surely, my learned allusion?)
Hail to its belly,
If it had eâer
A such loveliest oasis-belly
As this is: though however I doubt about it,
âWith this come I out of Old-Europe,
That doubtâth more eagerly than doth any
Elderly married woman.
May the Lord improve it!
Amen!
Here do I sit now,
In this the smallest oasis,
Like a date indeed,
Brown, quite sweet, gold-suppurating,
For rounded mouth of maiden longing,
But yet still more for youthful, maidlike,
Ice-cold and snow-white and incisory
Front teeth: and for such assuredly,
Pine the hearts all of ardent date-fruits. Selah.
To the there-named south-fruits now,
Similar, all-too-similar,
Do I lie here; by little
Flying insects
Round-sniffled and round-played,
And also by yet littler,
Foolisher, and peccabler
Wishes and fantasiesâ â
Environed by you,
Ye silent, presentientest
Maiden-kittens,
Dudu and Suleika
âRoundsphinxed, that into one word
I may crowd much feeling:
(Forgive me, O God,
All such speech-sinning!)
âSit I here the best of air sniffling,
Paradisal air, truly,
Bright and buoyant air, golden-mottled,
As goodly air as ever
From lunar orb downfellâ â
Be it by hazard,
Or supervened it by arrogancy?
As the ancient poets relate it.
But doubter, Iâm now calling it
In question: with this do I come indeed
Out of Europe,
That doubtâth more eagerly than doth any
Elderly married woman.
May the Lord improve it!
Amen.
This the finest air drinking,
With nostrils out-swelled like goblets,
Lacking future, lacking remembrances
Thus do
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