Early Greek Philosophy & Other Essays Collected Works, Volume Two

By Friedrich Nietzsche

Page 106

of waking man
as motley, irregular, inconsequentially incoherent, attractive, and
eternally new as the world of dreams is. For indeed, waking man _per
se_ is only clear about his being awake through the rigid and orderly
woof of ideas, and it is for this very reason that he sometimes comes
to believe that he was dreaming when that woof of ideas has for a
moment been torn by Art. Pascal is quite right, when he asserts, that
if the same dream came to us every night we should be just as much
occupied by it as by the things which we see every day; to quote his
words, "If an artisan were certain that he would dream every night
for fully twelve hours that he was a king, I believe that he would
be just as happy as a king who dreams every night for twelve hours
that he is an artisan." The wide-awake day of a people mystically
excitable, let us say of the earlier Greeks, is in fact through the
continually-working wonder, which the mythos presupposes, more akin to
the dream than to the day of the thinker sobered by science. If every
tree may at some time talk as a nymph, or a god under the disguise of
a bull, carry away virgins, if the goddess Athene herself be suddenly
seen as, with a beautiful team, she drives, accompanied by Pisistratus,
through the markets of Athens--and every honest Athenian did believe
this--at any moment, as in a dream, everything is possible; and all
nature swarms around man as if she were nothing but the masquerade
of the gods, who found it a huge joke to deceive man by assuming all
possible forms.

Man himself, however, has an invincible tendency to let himself
be deceived, and he is like one enchanted with happiness when the
rhapsodist narrates to him epic romances in such a way that they appear
real or when the actor on the stage makes the king appear more kingly
than reality shows him. Intellect, that master of dissimulation, is
free and dismissed from his service as slave, so long as It is able
to deceive without _injuring,_ and then It celebrates Its Saturnalia.
Never is It richer, prouder, more luxuriant, more skilful and daring;
with a creator's delight It throws metaphors into confusion, shifts the
boundary-stones of the abstractions, so that for instance It designates
the stream as the mobile way which carries man to that place whither
he would otherwise go. Now It has thrown off Its shoulders the emblem
of servitude. Usually with gloomy officiousness It endeavours to point

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Text Comparison with Thus Spake Zarathustra: A Book for All and None

Page 7
How he longed, in those days, for the ideal friend who would thoroughly understand him, to whom he would be able to say all, and whom he imagined he had found at various periods in his life from his earliest youth onwards.
Page 24
Page 47
Ye call in a witness when ye want to speak well of yourselves; and when ye have misled him to think well of you, ye also think well of yourselves.
Page 62
All FEELING suffereth in me, and is in prison: but my WILLING ever cometh to me as mine emancipator and comforter.
Page 75
Oh, ye only is it, ye dark, nightly ones, that extract warmth from.
Page 80
With a hundred-faced mirror did I catch its glance when its mouth was shut, so that its eye might speak unto me.
Page 113
Art thou not the light of my fire? Hast thou not the sister-soul of mine insight? Together did we learn everything; together did we learn to ascend beyond ourselves to ourselves, and to smile uncloudedly:-- --Uncloudedly to smile down out of luminous eyes and out of miles of distance, when under us constraint and purpose and guilt steam like rain.
Page 123
The rest: these are always the great majority, the common-place, the superfluous, the far-too many--those all are cowardly!-- Him who is of my type, will also the experiences of my type meet on the way: so that his first companions must be corpses and buffoons.
Page 151
of us oweth thanks?-- --Doth the giver not owe thanks because the receiver received? Is bestowing not a necessity? Is receiving not--pitying?"-- O my soul, I understand the smiling of thy melancholy: thine over-abundance itself now stretcheth out longing hands! Thy fulness looketh forth over raging seas, and seeketh and waiteth: the longing of over-fulness 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.
Page 168
Page 178
For I tell thee that I have already talked half a morning unto them, and just.
Page 184
No eye doth it close to me, it leaveth my soul awake.
Page 185
) "O heaven above me," said he sighing, and sat upright, "thou gazest at me? Thou hearkenest unto my strange soul? When wilt thou drink this drop of dew that fell down upon all earthly things,--when wilt thou drink this strange soul-- --When, thou well of eternity! thou joyous, awful, noontide abyss! when wilt thou drink my soul back into thee?" Thus spake Zarathustra, and rose from his couch beside the tree, as if awakening from a strange drunkenness: and behold! there stood the sun still exactly above his head.
Page 205
Flying insects Round-sniffled and round-played, And also by yet littler, Foolisher, and peccabler Wishes and phantasies,-- Environed by you, Ye silent, presentientest Maiden-kittens, Dudu and Suleika, --ROUNDSPHINXED, that into one word I may crowd much feeling: (Forgive me, O God, All such speech-sinning!) --Sit I here the best of air sniffling, Paradisal air, truly, Bright and buoyant air, golden-mottled, As goodly air as ever From lunar orb downfell-- Be it by hazard, Or supervened it by arrogancy? As the ancient poets relate it.
Page 214
Sweet lyre! Sweet lyre! I love thy tone, thy drunken, ranunculine tone!--how long, how far hath come unto me thy tone, from the distance, from the ponds of love! Thou old clock-bell, thou sweet lyre! Every pain hath torn thy heart, father-pain, fathers'-pain, forefathers'-pain; thy speech hath become ripe,-- --Ripe like the golden autumn and the afternoon, like mine anchorite heart--now sayest thou: The world itself hath become ripe, the grape turneth brown, --Now doth it wish to die, to die of happiness.
Page 219
I have had some opportunities of studying the conditions under which Nietzsche is read in Germany, France, and England, and I have found that, in each of these countries, students of his philosophy, as if actuated by precisely similar motives and desires, and misled by the same mistaken tactics on the part of most publishers, all proceed in the same happy-go-lucky style when "taking him up.
Page 225
In this discourse Zarathustra opens his exposition of the doctrine of relativity in morality, and declares all morality to be a mere means to power.
Page 233
The Bedwarfing Virtue.
Page 235
In verse 30 we are told that pity was his greatest danger.
Page 251
10, 11.