Ecce Homo Complete Works, Volume Seventeen

By Friedrich Nietzsche

Page 3

the gentleness with which, in Chapter II., Wagner--the
supposed mortal enemy, the supposed envied rival to Nietzsche--is
treated. Are these the words and the thoughts of a man who Has lost, or
who is losing control?

And even if we confine ourselves simply to the substance of this work
and put the question--Is it a new Nietzsche or the old Nietzsche that
we find in these pages? Is it the old countenance with which we are
familiar, or are the features distorted, awry, disfigured? What will
the answer be? Obviously there is no new or even deformed Nietzsche
here, because he is still faithful to the position which he assumed
in _Thus spake Zarathustra,_ five years previously, and is perfectly
conscious of this fidelity (see p. 141); neither can he be even on the
verge of any marked change, because the whole of the third chapter,
in which he reviews his life-work, is simply a reiteration and a
confirmation of his old points of view, which are here made all the
more telling by additional arguments suggested, no doubt, by maturer
thought. In fact, if anything at all is new in this work, it is its
cool certainty, its severe deliberateness, and its extraordinarily
incisive vision, as shown, for instance, in the summing up of the
genuine import of the third and fourth essays in the _Thoughts out of
Season_ (pp. 75-76, 80, 81, 82), a summing up which a most critical
analysis of the essays in question can but verify. Romanticism,
idealism, Christianity, are still scorned and despised; another
outlook, a nobler, braver, and more earthly outlook, is still upheld
and revered; the great yea to life, including all that it contains
that is terrible and questionable, is still pronounced in the teeth of
pessimists, nihilists, anarchists, Christians, and other decadents; and
Germany, "Europe's flatland," is still subjected to the most relentless
criticism. If there are any signs of change, besides those of mere
growth, in this work, they certainly succeed in eluding the most
careful search, undertaken with a full knowledge of Nietzsche's former
opinions, and it would be interesting to know precisely where they are
found by those writers whom the titles of the chapters, alone, seem so
radically to have perturbed.

But the most striking thing of all, the miracle, so to speak, of this
autobiography, is the absence from it of that loathing, that suggestion
of surfeit, with which a life such as the one Nietzsche had led, would
have filled any other man even of power approximate to his own. This
anchorite, who, in the last years of his life as a

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Text Comparison with Beyond Good and Evil

Page 7
In rare and isolated cases, it may really have happened that such a Will to Truth--a certain extravagant and adventurous pluck, a metaphysician's ambition of the forlorn hope--has participated therein: that which in the end always prefers a handful of "certainty" to a whole cartload of beautiful possibilities; there may even be puritanical fanatics of conscience, who prefer to put their last trust in a sure nothing, rather than in an uncertain something.
Page 15
In this way the person exercising volition adds the feelings of delight of his successful executive instruments, the useful "underwills" or under-souls--indeed, our body is but a social structure composed of many souls--to his feelings of delight as commander.
Page 18
The power of moral prejudices has penetrated deeply into the most intellectual world, the world apparently most indifferent and unprejudiced, and has obviously operated in an injurious, obstructive, blinding, and distorting manner.
Page 19
Here and there we understand it, and laugh at the way in which precisely the best knowledge seeks most to retain us in this SIMPLIFIED, thoroughly artificial, suitably imagined, and suitably falsified world: at the way in which, whether it will or not, it loves error, because, as living itself, it loves life! 25.
Page 21
For as such, he would one day have to say to himself: "The devil take my good taste! but 'the rule' is more interesting than the exception--than myself, the exception!" And he would go DOWN, and above all, he would go "inside.
Page 31
It must be contrary to their pride, and also contrary to their taste, that their truth should still be.
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65.
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188.
Page 69
Let it but be acknowledged to what an extent our modern world diverges from the whole style of the world of Heraclitus, Plato, Empedocles, and whatever else all the royal and magnificent anchorites of the spirit were called, and with what justice an honest man of science MAY feel himself of a better family and origin, in view of such representatives of philosophy, who, owing to the fashion of the present day, are just as much aloft as they are down below--in Germany, for instance, the two lions of Berlin, the anarchist Eugen Duhring and the amalgamist Eduard von Hartmann.
Page 72
FLOW; and precisely before the man of the great current he stands all the colder and more reserved--his eye is then like a smooth and irresponsive lake, which is no longer moved by rapture or sympathy.
Page 77
Meanwhile, however, there grew up in his son that new kind of harder and more dangerous skepticism--who knows TO WHAT EXTENT it was encouraged just by his father's hatred and the icy melancholy of a will condemned to solitude?--the skepticism of daring manliness, which is closely related to the genius for war and conquest, and made its first entrance into Germany in the person of the great Frederick.
Page 81
They conceive of every necessity as troublesome, as a painful compulsory obedience and state of constraint; thinking itself is regarded by them as something slow and hesitating, almost as a trouble, and often enough as "worthy of the SWEAT of the noble"--but not at all as something easy and divine, closely related to dancing and exuberance! "To think" and to take a matter "seriously," "arduously"--that is one and.
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for the hereditarily vicious and defective who lie on the ground around us; still less is it sympathy for the grumbling, vexed, revolutionary slave-classes who strive after power--they call it "freedom.
Page 104
Kotzebue certainly knew his Germans well enough: "We are known," they cried jubilantly to him--but Sand also thought he knew them.
Page 107
--These were my thoughts when I noticed how clumsily and unintuitively two masters in the art of prose-writing have been confounded: one, whose words drop down hesitatingly and coldly, as from the roof of a damp cave--he counts on their dull sound and echo; and another who manipulates his language like a flexible sword, and from his arm down into his toes feels the dangerous bliss of the quivering, over-sharp blade, which wishes to bite, hiss, and cut.
Page 122
Supposing that the abused, the oppressed, the suffering, the unemancipated, the weary, and those uncertain of themselves should moralize, what will be the common element in their moral estimates? Probably a pessimistic suspicion with regard to the entire situation of man will find expression, perhaps a condemnation of man, together with his situation.
Page 131
Alas, he who knows the heart finds out how poor, helpless, pretentious, and blundering even the best and deepest love is--he finds that it rather DESTROYS than saves!--It is possible that under the holy fable and travesty of the life of Jesus there is hidden one of the most painful cases of the martyrdom of KNOWLEDGE ABOUT LOVE: the martyrdom of the most innocent and most craving heart, that never had enough of any human love, that DEMANDED love, that demanded inexorably and frantically to be loved and nothing else, with terrible outbursts against those who refused him their love; the story of a poor soul insatiated and insatiable in love, that had to invent hell to send thither those who WOULD NOT love him--and that at.
Page 141
you were so variegated, young and malicious, so full of thorns and secret spices, that you made me sneeze and laugh--and now? You have already doffed your novelty, and some of you, I fear, are ready to become truths, so immortal do they look, so pathetically honest, so tedious! And was it ever otherwise? What then do we write and paint, we mandarins with Chinese brush, we immortalisers of things which LEND themselves to writing, what are we alone capable of painting? Alas, only that which is just about to fade and begins to lose its odour! Alas, only exhausted and departing storms and belated yellow sentiments! Alas, only birds strayed and fatigued by flight, which now let themselves be captured with the hand--with OUR hand! We immortalize what cannot live and fly much longer, things only which are exhausted and mellow! And it is only for your AFTERNOON, you, my written and painted thoughts, for which alone I have colours, many colours, perhaps, many variegated softenings, and fifty yellows and browns and greens and reds;--but nobody will divine thereby how ye looked in your morning, you sudden sparks and marvels of my solitude, you, my old, beloved--EVIL thoughts! FROM THE HEIGHTS By F W Nietzsche Translated by L.
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pale, filled o'er With love and fear! Go! Yet not in wrath.