Also sprach Zarathustra: Ein Buch für Alle und Keinen

By Friedrich Nietzsche

Page 161

er dabei
seinen Nachfolger und Schatten zu Boden: so dicht schon folgte ihm
derselbe auf den Fersen, und so schwach war er auch. Als er ihn
nämlich mit Augen prüfte, erschrak er wie vor einem plötzlichen
Gespenste: so dünn, schwärzlich, hohl und überlebt sah dieser
Nachfolger aus.

"Wer bist du? fragte Zarathustra heftig, was treibst du hier? Und
wesshalb heissest du dich meinen Schatten? Du gefällst mir nicht."

"Vergieb mir, antwortete der Schatten, dass ich's bin; und wenn ich
dir nicht gefalle, wohlan, oh Zarathustra! darin lobe ich dich und
deinen guten Geschmack.

Ein Wanderer bin ich, der viel schon hinter deinen Fersen her gieng:
immer unterwegs, aber ohne Ziel, auch ohne Heim: also dass mir
wahrlich wenig zum ewigen Juden fehlt, es sei denn, dass ich nicht
ewig, und auch nicht Jude bin.

Wie? Muss ich immerdar unterwegs sein? Von jedem Winde gewirbelt,
unstät, fortgetrieben? Oh Erde, du wardst mir zu rund!

Auf jeder Oberfläche sass ich schon, gleich müdem Staube schlief ich
ein auf Spiegeln und Fensterscheiben: Alles nimmt von mir, Nichts
giebt, ich werde dünn, - fast gleiche ich einem Schatten.

Dir aber, oh Zarathustra, flog und zog ich am längsten nach, und,
verbarg ich mich schon vor dir, so war ich doch dein bester Schatten:
wo du nur gesessen hast, sass ich auch.

Mit dir bin ich in fernsten, kältesten Welten umgegangen, einem
Gespenste gleich, das freiwillig über Winterdächer und Schnee läuft.

Mit dir strebte ich in jedes Verbotene, Schlimmste, Fernste: und wenn
irgend Etwas an mir Tugend ist, so ist es, dass ich vor keinem Verbote
Furcht hatte.

Mit dir zerbrach ich, was je mein Herz verehrte, alle Grenzsteine
und Bilder warf ich um, den gefährlichsten Wünschen lief ich nach, -
wahrlich, über jedwedes Verbrechen lief ich einmal hinweg.

Mit dir verlernte ich den Glauben an Worte und Werthe und grosse
Namen. Wenn der Teufel sich häutet, fällt da nicht auch sein Name ab?
der ist nämlich auch Haut. Der Teufel selber ist vielleicht - Haut.

`Nichts ist wahr, Alles ist erlaubt`: so sprach ich mir zu. In die
kältesten Wasser stürzte ich mich, mit Kopf und Herzen. Ach, wie oft
stand ich darob nackt als rother Krebs da!

Ach, wohin kam mir alles Gute und alle Scham und aller Glaube an die
Guten! Ach, wohin ist jene verlogne Unschuld, die ich einst besass,
die Unschuld der Guten und ihrer edlen Lügen!

Zu oft, wahrlich, folgte ich der Wahrheit dicht auf dem Fusse: da trat
sie mir vor den Kopf. Manchmal meinte ich zu lügen, und siehe! da erst
traf ich - die Wahrheit.

Zu Viel klärte sich mir auf: nun geht es mich Nichts mehr an. Nichts

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Text Comparison with The Genealogy of Morals The Complete Works, Volume Thirteen, edited by Dr. Oscar Levy.

Page 5
Rée, I did so because I had no doubt that from the very nature of his questions he would be compelled to have recourse to a truer method, in order to obtain his answers.
Page 6
An aphorism properly coined and cast into its final mould is far from being "deciphered" as soon as it has been read; on the contrary, it is then that it first requires _to be expounded_--of course for that purpose an art of exposition is necessary.
Page 13
In sacerdotal societies _every_ element is on a more dangerous scale, not merely cures and remedies, but also pride, revenge, cunning, exaltation, love, ambition, virtue, morbidity:--further, it can fairly be stated that it is on the soil of this _essentially dangerous_ form of human society, the sacerdotal form, that man really becomes for the first time an _interesting animal_, that it is in this form that the soul of man has in a higher sense attained _depths_ and become _evil_--and those are the two fundamental forms of the superiority which up to the present man has exhibited over every other animal.
Page 14
Their weakness causes their hate to expand into a monstrous and sinister shape, a shape which is most crafty and most poisonous.
Page 18
While the aristocratic man lived in confidence and openness with himself (gennaios, "noble-born," emphasises the nuance "sincere," and perhaps also "naïf"), the resentful man, on the other hand, is neither sincere nor naïf, nor honest and candid with himself.
Page 25
It is a cautious, spiteful, gentle whispering and muttering together in all the corners and crannies.
Page 38
These observations are purely conjectural; for, apart from the painful nature of the task, it is hard to plumb such profound depths: the clumsy introduction of the idea of "revenge" as a connecting-link simply hides and obscures the view instead of rendering it clearer (revenge itself simply leads back again to the identical problem--"How can the infliction of suffering be a satisfaction?").
Page 39
) The sight of suffering does one good, the infliction of suffering does one more good--this is a hard maxim, but none the less a fundamental maxim, old, powerful, and "human, all-too-human"; one, moreover, to which perhaps even the apes as well would subscribe: for it is said that in inventing bizarre cruelties they are giving abundant proof of their future humanity, to which, as it were, they are playing the prelude.
Page 43
His eye was now focussed to this perspective; and with that ponderous consistency characteristic of ancient thought, which, though set in motion with difficulty, yet proceeds inflexibly along the line on which it has started, man soon arrived at the great generalisation, "everything has its price, _all_ can be paid for," the oldest and most naive moral canon of _justice_, the beginning of all "kindness," of all "equity," of all "goodwill," of all "objectivity" in the world.
Page 53
, Propos.
Page 54
All instincts which do not find a vent without, _turn inwards_--this is what I mean by the growing "internalisation" of man: consequently we have the first growth in man, of what subsequently was called his soul.
Page 61
He apprehends in God the most extreme antitheses that he can find to his own characteristic and ineradicable animal instincts, he himself gives a new interpretation to these animal instincts as being against what he "owes" to God (as enmity, rebellion, and revolt against the "Lord," the "Father," the "Sire," the "Beginning of the world"), he places himself between the horns of the dilemma, "God" and "Devil.
Page 72
Schopenhauer is merely the most eloquent, and if one has the ear for it, also the most fascinating and enchanting outburst.
Page 76
This kind of man likes not to be disturbed by enmity, he likes not to be disturbed by friendship, it is a type which forgets or despises easily.
Page 87
The sick woman, moreover, spares nothing living, nothing dead; she grubs up again the most buried things (the Bogos say, "Woman is a hyena").
Page 89
He must be the natural adversary and _scorner_ of every rough, stormy, reinless, hard, violently-predatory health and power.
Page 91
Page 94
Wherever possible, no more wishes, no more wants; shun everything which produces emotion, which produces "blood" (eating no salt, the fakir hygiene); no love; no hate; equanimity; no revenge; no getting rich; no work; begging; as far as possible, no woman, or as little woman as possible; as far as the intellect is concerned, Pascal's principle, "_il faut s'abêtir.
Page 112
Since Copernicus man seems to have fallen on to a steep plane--he rolls faster and faster away from the centre--whither? into nothingness? into the "thrilling sensation of his own nothingness"--Well! this would be the straight way--to the old ideal?--All science (and by no means only astronomy, with regard to the humiliating and deteriorating effect of which Kant has made a remarkable confession, "it annihilates my own importance"), all science, natural as much as _unnatural_--by unnatural I mean the self-critique of reason--nowadays sets out to talk man out of his present opinion of himself, as though that opinion had been nothing but a bizarre piece of conceit; you might go so far as to say that science finds its peculiar pride, its peculiar bitter form of stoical ataraxia, in preserving man's _contempt of himself_, that state which it took so much trouble to bring about, as man's final and most serious claim to self-appreciation (rightly so, in point of fact, for he who despises is always "one who has not forgotten how to appreciate").
Page 113
It is certain that from the time of Kant every type of transcendentalist is playing a winning game––they are emancipated from the theologians; what luck!––he has revealed to them that secret art, by which they can now pursue their "heart's desire" on their own responsibility, and with all the respectability of science.