Ecce Homo Complete Works, Volume Seventeen

By Friedrich Nietzsche

Page 56

or following on my part, and any further misunderstanding
of myself. Every kind of life, the most unfavourable circumstances,
illness, poverty--anything seemed to me preferable to that undignified
"selfishness" into which I had fallen; in the first place, thanks to my
ignorance and youth, and in which I had afterwards remained owing to
laziness--the so-called "sense of duty." At this juncture there came to
my help, in a way that I cannot sufficiently admire, and precisely at
the right time, that evil heritage which I derive from my father's side
of the family, and which, at bottom, is no more than a predisposition
to die young. Illness slowly liberated me from the toils, it spared me
any sort of sudden breach, any sort of violent and offensive step. At
that time I lost not a particle of the good will of others, but rather
added to my store. Illness likewise gave me the right completely to
reverse my mode of life; it not only allowed, it actually commanded,
me to forget; it bestowed upon me the necessity of lying still, of
having leisure, of waiting, and of exercising patience.... But all
this means thinking!... The state of my eyes alone put an end to all
book-wormishness, or, in plain English--philology: I was thus delivered
from books; for years I ceased from reading, and this was the greatest
boon I ever conferred upon myself! That nethermost self, which was,
as it were, entombed, and which had grown dumb because it had been
forced to listen perpetually to other selves (for that is what reading
means!), slowly awakened; at first it was shy and doubtful, but at
last it _spoke again_ Never have I rejoiced more over my condition
than during the sickest and most painful moments of my life. You have
only to examine _The Dawn of Day,_ or, perhaps, _The Wanderer and
his Shadow,_[3] in order to understand what this "return to myself"
actually meant: in itself it was the highest kind of recovery!... My
cure was simply the result of it.


_Human, all-too-Human,_ this monument of a course of vigorous
self-discipline, by means of which I put an abrupt end to all the
"Superior Bunkum," "Idealism," "Beautiful Feelings," and other
effeminacies that had percolated into my being, was written principally
in Sorrento; it was finished and given definite shape during a winter
at Bâle, under conditions far less favourable than those in Sorrento.
Truth to tell, it was Peter Gast, at that time a student at the
University of Bâle, and a devoted friend of mine, who was responsible
for the book. With my head wrapped

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

Page 17
Page 25
"I see nothing, I hear the more.
Page 26
' But enough! Enough! I can endure it no longer.
Page 32
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The more profound observer has perhaps already had sufficient opportunity for noticing this most ancient and radical joy and delight of mankind; in _Beyond Good and Evil_, Aph.
Page 49
I emphasise all the more this cardinal characteristic of the historic method, for the reason that in its essence it runs counter to predominant instincts and prevailing taste, which much prefer to put up with absolute casualness, even with the mechanical senselessness of all phenomena, than with the theory of a power-will, in exhaustive play throughout all phenomena.
Page 60
The reader will already have conjectured what took place on the stage and behind the scenes of this drama.
Page 62
"Wonderful," says he on one occasion--it has to do with the case of Ægistheus, a _very_ bad case indeed-- "Wonderful how they grumble, the mortals against the immortals, _Only from us_, they presume, _comes evil_, but in their folly, Fashion they, spite of fate, the doom of their own disaster.
Page 65
And certainly it would also have dealt with the praise of sensuality, and even so, it would seem quite in order, and even so, it would have been equally Wagnerian.
Page 66
Oh what a tragic grunting and eagerness! You can just think of it--they worship that painful and superfluous contrast, which Richard Wagner in his latter days undoubtedly wished to set to music, and to place on the stage! "_For what purpose, forsooth?_" as we may reasonably ask.
Page 86
is to be feared, what does work with a fatality found in no other fate, is not the great fear of, but the great _nausea_ with, man; and equally so the great pity for man.
Page 95
Neither in the Indian nor in the Christian doctrine is this "Redemption" regarded as attainable by means of virtue and moral improvement, however high they may place the value of the hypnotic efficiency of virtue: keep clear on this point--indeed it simply corresponds with the facts.
Page 105
Lack of measure, opposition to measure, it is itself a "_non plus ultra_.
Page 113
Petersburg and the "pity" of Tolstoi.
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Anacreon, and not merely to run away! To trample on all the worm-eaten "chairs," the cowardly contemplators, the lascivious eunuchs of history, the flirters with ascetic ideals, the righteous hypocrites of impotence! All reverence on my part to the ascetic ideal, _in so far as it is honourable_! So long as it believes in itself and plays no pranks on us! But I like not all these coquettish bugs who have an insatiate ambition to smell of the infinite, until eventually the infinite smells of bugs; I like not the whited sepulchres with their stagey reproduction of life; I like not the tired and the used up who wrap themselves in wisdom and look "objective"; I like not the agitators dressed up as heroes, who hide their dummy-heads behind the stalking-horse of an ideal; I like not the ambitious artists who would fain play the ascetic and the priest, and are at bottom nothing but tragic clowns; I like not, again, these newest speculators in idealism, the Anti-Semites, who nowadays roll their eyes in the patent Christian-Aryan-man-of-honour fashion, and by an abuse of moralist attitudes and agitation dodges, so cheap as to exhaust any patience, strive to excite all.
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Page 118
The Europeans now imagine themselves as representing, in the main, the highest types of men on earth.
Page 119
The real German Mephistopheles crosses the Alps, and.
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The Germans may well be the most composite people on earth.
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Goethe and Greece.