Ainsi Parlait Zarathoustra

By Friedrich Nietzsche

Page 187

encore une fois en levant
sa canne sur le tendre mendiant: mais celui-ci se sauva en toute hâte.


Mais à peine le mendiant volontaire s'était-il sauvé, que Zarathoustra,
étant de nouveau seul avec lui-même, entendit derrière lui une voix
nouvelle qui criait: "Arrête-toi, Zarathoustra! Attends-moi donc!
C'est moi, ô Zarathoustra, moi ton ombre!" Mais Zarathoustra
n'attendit pas, car un soudain dépit s'empara de lui, à cause de la
grande foule qui se pressait dans ses montagnes. "Où s'en est allée ma
solitude? dit-il.

C'en est vraiment de trop; ces montagnes fourmillent de gens, mon
royaume n'est plus de ce monde, j'ai besoin de montagnes nouvelles.

Mon ombre m'appelle! Qu'importe mon ombre! Qu'elle me coure après!
Moi - je me sauve d'elle."

Ainsi parlait Zarathoustra à son coeur en se sauvant. Mais celui qui
était derrière lui le suivait: en sorte qu'ils étaient trois à courir
l'un derrière l'autre, d'abord le mendiant volontaire, puis
Zarathoustra et en troisième et dernier lieu son ombre. Mais ils ne
couraient pas encore longtemps de la sorte que déjà Zarathoustra
prenait conscience de sa folie, et d'un seul coup secouait loin de lui
tout son dépit et tous son dégoût.

"Eh quoi! s'écria-t-il, les choses les plus étranges n'arrivèrent-elles
pas de tout temps chez nous autres vieux saints et solitaires?

En vérité, ma folie a grandi dans les montagnes! Voici que j'entends
sonner, les unes derrière les autres, six vieilles jambes de fous!

Mais Zarathoustra a-t-il le droit d'avoir peur d'une ombre? Aussi
bien, je finis par croire qu'elle a de plus longues jambes que moi."

Ainsi parlait Zarathoustra , riant des yeux et des entrailles. Il
s'arrêta et se retourna brusquement - et voici, il faillit ainsi jeter
à terre son ombre qui le poursuivait: tant elle le serrait de près et
tant elle était faible. Car lorsqu'il l'examina des yeux, il s'effraya
comme devant l'apparition soudaine d'un fantôme: tant celle qui était à
ses trousses était maigre, noirâtre et usée, tant elle avait l'air
d'avoir fait son temps.

"Qui es-tu? Demanda impétueusement Zarathoustra. Que fais-tu ici? Et
pourquoi t'appelles-tu mon ombre? Tu ne me plais pas."

"Pardonne-moi, répondit l'ombre, que ce soit moi; et si je ne te plais
pas, eh bien, ô Zarathoustra! je t'en félicite et je loue ton bon goût.

Je suis un voyageur, depuis longtemps déjà attaché à tes talons:
toujours en route, mais sans but, et aussi sans demeure: en sorte qu'il
ne me manque que peu de chose pour être l'éternel juif errant, si ce
n'est que je ne suis ni

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Text Comparison with Thoughts out of Season, Part I David Strauss, the Confessor and the Writer - Richard Wagner in Bayreuth.

Page 2
The arrow that is to fly far must be discharged from a well distended bow: if, therefore, anything is necessary for greatness, it is a fierce and tenacious opposition, an opposition either of open contempt, or of malicious irony, or of sly silence, or of gross stupidity, an opposition regardless of the wounds it inflicts and of the precious lives it sacrifices, an opposition that nobody would dare to attack who was not prepared, like the Spartan of old, to return either with his shield or on it.
Page 18
And just as Wagner is merely a misunderstanding among Germans, so am I and ever will be.
Page 19
It did not even help towards the success of our arms.
Page 22
newness, as of a country fair, which his scholars then proceed to contemplate and to define as "Modernism per se"; and there he remains, squatting peacefully, in the midst of this conflict of styles.
Page 25
Even the raising of monuments to their memory, and the christening of feasts and societies with their names--all these things are but so many ringing cash payments by means of which the Culture-Philistine discharges his indebtedness to them, so that in all other respects he may be rid of them, and, above all, not bound to follow in their wake and prosecute his search further.
Page 34
" "Here is our man!" cries the Philistine exultingly, who reads this: "for this is exactly how we live; it is indeed our daily life.
Page 48
Says Strauss: "I should say that all moral action arises from the individual's acting in consonance with the idea of kind" (p.
Page 70
It will be remembered that he was so shamefully insulted there, owing to his quaint figure and lack of dorsal convexity, that a priest at last had to harangue the people on his behalf as follows: "My brethren, rather pity this poor stranger, and present thank-offerings unto the gods, that ye are blessed with such attractive gibbosities.
Page 71
Page 72
By means of these examples I may succeed in showing what it is that inspires, in the.
Page 74
Indeed, we allow him too much when we grant him one eye; but we do this willingly, because Strauss does not write so badly as the most infamous of all corrupters of German--the Hegelians and their crippled offspring.
Page 81
The inadequacy of means for obtaining success may, in certain circumstances, be the result of an inexorable fate, and not necessarily of a lack of strength; but he who under such circumstances cannot abandon his aspirations, despite the inadequacy of his means, will only become embittered, and consequently irritable and intolerant.
Page 85
Albeit, these were little more than palpable dramatic makeshifts and expedients, which deceived, and were invented, only for the moment.
Page 90
And what we here assert, with perhaps seeming exaggeration, of Wagner's activity would hold equally good of any other genuine reform.
Page 91
Here you will find the most noble self-abnegation on the part of the artist, and the finest of all spectacles--that of a triumphant.
Page 92
"Where are they who are suffering under the yoke of modern institutions?" he will inquire.
Page 100
Or, worse still, art is taken more or less seriously, and then it is itself expected to provoke a kind of hunger and craving, and to fulfil its mission.
Page 102
But that this age is vulgar, even we can see now, and it is so because it reveres precisely what nobler ages contemned.
Page 119
Had not even Goethe, in his time, once grown tired of attending the rehearsals of his Iphigenia? "I suffer unspeakably," he explained, "when I have to tumble about with these spectres, which never seem to act as they should.
Page 134
But the strength of that almost maternal instinct of prudence in him, which is ready to make any sacrifice, rather tends to reinstall him among the scholars and men of learning, to whom as a creator he always longed to bid farewell.