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August 28 - October 17, 2021
“The fleetest beast to bear you to perfection is suffering.”
I love him who maketh his virtue his inclination and destiny: thus, for the sake of his virtue, he is willing to live on, or live no more.
I tell you: one must still have chaos in one, to give birth to a dancing star. I tell you: ye have still chaos in you.
Behold the believers of all beliefs! Whom do they hate most? Him who breaketh up their tables of values, the breaker, the law-breaker—he, however, is the creator.
My brethren, wherefore is there need of the lion in the spirit? Why sufficeth not the beast of burden, which renounceth and is reverent? To create new values—that, even the lion cannot yet accomplish: but to create itself freedom for new creating—that can the might of the lion do. To create itself freedom, and give a holy Nay even unto duty: for that, my brethren, there is need of the lion.
Ten truths must thou find during the day; otherwise wilt thou seek truth during the night, and thy soul will have been hungry.
This world, the eternally imperfect, an eternal contradiction’s image and imperfect image—an intoxicating joy to its imperfect creator:
Ah, ye brethren, that God whom I created was human work and human madness, like all the Gods! A man was he, and only a poor fragment of a man and ego.
Believe me, my brethren! It was the body which despaired of the earth—it heard the bowels of existence speaking unto it.
Backward they always gaze toward dark ages: then, indeed, were delusion and faith something different.
Hearken rather, my brethren, to the voice of the healthy body; it is a more upright and pure voice. More uprightly and purely speaketh the healthy body, perfect and square-built; and it speaketh of the meaning of the earth.
“Not as the law of a God do I desire it, not as a human law or a human need do I desire it; it is not to be a guide-post for me to superearths and paradises.
And nothing evil groweth in thee any longer, unless it be the evil that groweth out of the conflict of thy virtues.
There is no salvation for him who thus suffereth from himself, unless it be speedy death.
But one thing is the thought, another thing is the deed, and another thing is the idea of the deed. The wheel of causality doth not roll between them. An idea made this pale man pale. Adequate was he for his deed when he did it, but the idea of it, he could not endure when it was done.
Him who now turneth sick, the evil overtaketh which is now the evil: he seeketh to cause pain with that which causeth him pain.
He who climbeth on the highest mountains, laugheth at all tragic plays and tragic realities.
Everywhere resoundeth the voices of those who preach death; and the earth is full of those to whom death hath to be preached.
One can only be silent and sit peacefully when one hath arrow and bow; otherwise one prateth and quarrelleth. Let your peace be a victory!
War and courage have done more great things than charity. Not your sympathy, but your bravery hath hitherto saved the victims.
Let your love to life be love to your highest hope; and let your highest hope be the highest thought of life! Your highest thought, however, ye shall have it commanded unto you by me—and it is this: man is something that is to be surpassed.
Towards the throne they all strive: it is their madness—as if happiness sat on the throne! Ofttimes sitteth filth on the throne,—and ofttimes also the throne on filth.
Do go out of the way of the bad odour! Withdraw from the steam of these human sacrifices!
he who possesseth little is so much the less possessed: blessed be moderate poverty!
Flee, my friend, into thy solitude: I see thee stung all over by the poisonous flies. Flee thither, where a rough, strong breeze bloweth!
Would that ye were perfect—at least as animals! But to animals belongeth innocence. Do I counsel you to slay your instincts? I counsel you to innocence in your instincts.
Do I counsel you to chastity? Chastity is a virtue with some, but with many almost a vice. These are continent, to be sure: but doggish lust looketh enviously out of all that they do. Even into the heights of their virtue and into their cold spirit doth this creature follow them, with its discord. And how nicely can doggish lust beg for a piece of spirit, when a piece of flesh is denied it! Ye love tragedies and all that breaketh the heart? But I am distrustful of your doggish lust. Ye have too cruel eyes, and ye look wantonly towards the sufferers. Hath not your lust just disguised itself and
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He who maketh no secret of himself shocketh: so much reason have ye to fear nakedness! Aye, if ye were Gods, ye could then be ashamed of clothing!
Art thou a slave? Then thou canst not be a friend. Art thou a tyrant? Then thou canst not have friends. Far too long hath there been a slave and a tyrant concealed in woman. On that account woman is not yet capable of friendship: she knoweth only love. In woman’s love there is injustice and blindness to all she doth not love.
“Association with men spoileth the character, especially when one hath none.”
The one goeth to his neighbour because he seeketh himself, and the other because he would fain lose himself. Your bad love to yourselves maketh solitude a prison to you.
Ready must thou be to burn thyself in thine own flame; how couldst thou become new if thou have not first become ashes! Thou lonesome one, thou goest the way of the creating one: a God wilt thou create for thyself out of thy seven devils! Thou lonesome one, thou goest the way of the loving one: thou lovest thyself, and on that account despisest thou thyself, as only the loving ones despise.
Better than man doth woman understand children, but man is more childish than woman. In the true man there is a child hidden: it wanteth to play. Up then, ye women, and discover the child in man!
When, however, ye have an enemy, then return him not good for evil: for that would abash him. But prove that he hath done something good to you. And rather be angry than abash any one! And when ye are cursed, it pleaseth me not that ye should then desire to bless. Rather curse a little also!
Many short follies—that is called love by you. And your marriage putteth an end to many short follies, with one long stupidity.
Beyond yourselves shall ye love some day! Then learn first of all to love. And on that account ye had to drink the bitter cup of your love. Bitterness is in the cup even of the best love: thus doth it cause longing for the Superman; thus doth it cause thirst in thee, the creating one! Thirst in the creating one, arrow and longing for the Superman: tell me, my brother, is this thy will to marriage?
My death, praise I unto you, the voluntary death, which cometh unto me because I want it. And when shall I want it?—He that hath a goal and an heir, wanteth death at the right time for the goal and the heir. And out of reverence for the goal and the heir, he will hang up no more withered wreaths in the sanctuary of life.
And how would ye endure life without that hope, ye discerning ones? Neither in the inconceivable could ye have been born, nor in the irrational.
And when we learn better to enjoy ourselves, then do we unlearn best to give pain unto others, and to contrive pain.
For this is your truth: ye are too pure for the filth of the words: vengeance, punishment, recompense, retribution. Ye love your virtue as a mother loveth her child; but when did one hear of a mother wanting to be paid for her love?
That ye might become weary of saying: “That an action is good is because it is unselfish.” Ah! my friends! That your very Self be in your action, as the mother is in the child: let that be your formula of virtue!
“Take care not to spit against the wind!”
Conscientious—so call I him who goeth into God-forsaken wildernesses, and hath broken his venerating heart. In the yellow sands and burnt by the sun, he doubtless peereth thirstily at the isles rich in fountains, where life reposeth under shady trees. But his thirst doth not persuade him to become like those comfortable ones: for where there are oases, there are also idols. Hungry, fierce, lonesome, God-forsaken: so doth the lion-will wish itself.
I see and have seen worse things, and divers things so hideous, that I should neither like to speak of all matters, nor even keep silent about some of them: namely, men who lack everything, except that they have too much of one thing—men who are nothing more than a big eye, or a big mouth, or a big belly, or something else big,—reversed cripples, I call such men.
