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

By Friedrich Nietzsche

Page 114

the praise given to contemplation; oh,
what a thirst do these sweet intellectuals excite even for ascetics
and winter landscapes! Nay! The devil take these "contemplative" folk!
How much liefer would I wander with those historical Nihilists through
the gloomiest, grey, cold mist!––nay, I shall not mind listening
(supposing I have to choose) to one who is completely unhistorical
and anti-historical (a man, like Dühring for instance, over whose
periods a hitherto shy and unavowed species of "beautiful souls" has
grown intoxicated in contemporary Germany, _the species anarchistica_
within the educated proletariate). The "contemplative" are a hundred
times worse––I never knew anything which produced such intense
nausea as one of those "objective" _chairs_,[6] one of those scented
mannikins-about-town of history, a thing half-priest, half-satyr (Renan
_parfum_), which betrays by the high, shrill falsetto of his applause
what he lacks and where he lacks it, who betrays where in this case
the Fates have plied their ghastly shears, alas! in too surgeon-like
a fashion! This is distasteful to me, and irritates my patience; let
him keep patient at such sights who has nothing to lose thereby,––such
a sight enrages me, such spectators embitter me against the "play,"
even more than does the play itself (history itself, you understand);
Anacreontic moods imperceptibly come over me. This Nature, who gave
to the steer its horn, to the lion its χάσμ ὀδοντων, for what purpose
did Nature give me my foot?––To kick, by St. 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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" To the aspiring student of Nietzsche, however, it ought not to be necessary to become an immediate convert in order to be interested in the treasure of thought which Nietzsche here lavishes upon us.
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_ Even this treatise--as its title shows--is above all a recreation, a ray of sunshine, a leap sideways of a psychologist in his leisure moments.
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Being is thought into and insinuated into everything as cause; from the concept "ego," alone, can the concept "Being" proceed.
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The will no longer actuates, consequently it no longer explains anything--all it does is to accompany processes; it may even be absent.
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These sensations are the outcome of ill-considered actions, having evil consequences, (--the passions, the senses, postulated as causes, as guilty.
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This is not the result of an individual intention, of a will, of an aim, there is no attempt at attaining to any "ideal man," or "ideal happiness" or "ideal morality" with him,--it is absurd to wish him to be careering towards some sort of purpose.
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In many cases such necessary action is already a sign of morbidity, of decline, and a symptom of exhaustion.
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At least one realises that philosophy was pursued differently in Athens; above all, publicly.
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) 27 "This picture is perfectly beautiful!"[4] The dissatisfied and exasperated literary woman with a desert in her heart and in her belly, listening with agonised curiosity every instant to the imperative which whispers to her from the very depths of her being: _aut liberi, aut libri:_ the literary woman, sufficiently educated to understand the voice of nature, even when nature speaks Latin, and moreover enough of a peacock and a goose to speak even French with herself in secret "_Je me verrai, je me lirai, je m'extasierai et je dirai: Possible, que j'aie eu tant d'esprit?_" .
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The editor of the Swiss paper the _Bund_ went so far as not only to express his admiration for the courage displayed by my enterprise, but also to pretend to "understand" that the intended purpose of my work was to abolish all decent feeling.
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When, the tension in the bulk has become sufficiently excessive, the most fortuitous stimulus suffices in order to call "genius," "great deeds," and momentous fate-into the world.
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But almost all those creatures whom, nowadays, we honour and respect, formerly lived in this semi-sepulchral atmosphere: the man of science, the artist, the genius, the free spirit, the actor, the business man, and the great explorer.
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Greek philosophy is the decadence of the Greek instinct: Thucydides is the great summing up, the final manifestation of that strong, severe positivism which lay in the instincts of the ancient Hellene.
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672), "when they had nothing better to do, laughed, sprang and romped about, or, inasmuch as men also like a change at times, they would sit down, weep and bewail their lot Others then came up who tried to discover some reason for this strange behaviour; and thus, as an explanation of these habits, there arose an incalculable number of festivals, legends, and myths.
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Only in a maiden is the whole body pure.
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Let us not underestimate the privileges of the _mediocre.
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Should the production of qualities not be subject to any strict laws? Can it be possible that different things have been derived from "energy"? Arbitrarily? Is the conformity to law which we observe perhaps only a deception? Is it possible that it is not a primeval law? Is it possible that the multifariousness of qualities even in our part of the world is the result of the absolute occurrence of arbitrary characteristics? But that these characteristics no longer appear in our corner of the globe? Or that our corner of existence has adopted a rule which we call cause and effect when all the while it is no such thing (an arbitrary.