Thoughts Out of Season, Part II

By Friedrich Nietzsche

Page 105

a literary work, for example, by certain paragraphs or
sentences or errors, as he can do nothing more; he will be driven to
see in an oil painting nothing but a mass of daubs.

Thirdly, a sober conventionality in his likes and dislikes. Thus he
especially delights in history because he can put his own motives
into the actions of the past. A mole is most comfortable in a
mole-hill. He is on his guard against all ingenious and extravagant
hypotheses; but digs up industriously all the commonplace motives of
the past, because he feels in sympathy with them. He is generally
quite incapable of understanding and valuing the rare or the
uncommon, the great or the real.

Fourthly, a lack of feeling, which makes him capable of vivisection.
He knows nothing of the suffering that brings knowledge, and does not
fear to tread where other men shudder. He is cold and may easily
appear cruel. He is thought courageous, but he is not,--any more than
the mule who does not feel giddiness.

Fifthly, diffidence, or a low estimate of himself. Though he live in
a miserable alley of the world, he has no sense of sacrifice or
surrender; he appears often to know in his inmost heart that he is
not a flying but a crawling creature. And this makes him seem even
pathetic.

Sixthly, loyalty to his teachers and leaders. From his heart he
wishes to help them, and knows he can do it best with the truth. He
has a grateful disposition, for he has only gained admittance through
them to the high hall of science; he would never have entered by his
own road. Any man to-day who can throw open a new province where his
lesser disciples can work to some purpose, is famous at once; so
great is the crowd that presses after him. These grateful pupils are
certainly a misfortune to their teacher, as they all imitate him; his
faults are exaggerated in their small persons, his virtues
correspondingly diminished.

Seventhly, he will follow the usual road of all the professors, where
a feeling for truth springs from a lack of ideas, and the wheel once
started goes on. Such natures become compilers, commentators, makers
of indices and herbaria; they rummage about one special department
because they have never thought there are others. Their industry has
something of the monstrous stupidity of gravitation; and so they can
often bring their labours to an end.

Eighthly, a dread of ennui. While the true thinker desires nothing
more than leisure, the professor fears it, not knowing how it is to
be used. Books are his

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Text Comparison with Dionysos: Valikoima runoja

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Mistralille.
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" Ylt' ympäri kaikki kuuntelee, ei henkäystäkään käy: ei lintu laula.
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Laulu kaukaa soi: kumpusi kultana pois yli värjyväin vetten vyön.
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Jos jäisin luoksesi, mun piirittäisit hennoin pilvilinnoin.
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-- -- Jotta muisto onnen parhaan säilyis aina, tähtitarhaan kanna _seppel_ myötäsi! Viskaa kauas, korkealle, ylimmälle taivahalle -- ripusta se merkiksi! DIONYSOS-DITYRAMBEJA VAIN NARRI! VAIN RUNONIEKKA! Ilmassa seljenneessä, kun kasteen lohdutus jo alas maahan kumpuaa, näkymättä ja kuulumatta -- näet pehmeä-anturainen on lohduntuoja kaste kuin lohdutuslempeät kaikki --: sydän kuuma, sa muistatko silloin, miten janosit kerran, pisarkylpyä kyynelten taivahisten, palaneena ja pakahtuneena, kulonurmi-poluilla kun pahat iltaiset auringon-katseet sua kiersivät lomitse mustien puitten, tulihehkuvat, ilkkuvat häikäisy-katseet.
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Sen jumala paratkohon! Aamen.
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Eloni päivä! jo iltasi joutuu! Jo hehkuu silmäsi sammuen verkkaan, jo vyöryy kasteesi kyynelhelmet, jo lipuu valkeita meriä hiljaa sun lempesi purppurahehku, sun autuutes viipyvä, viimeinen.
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Mitä tahdot? Puhu! Mua ahdistat, painat -- Haa! lähell' olet jo liian! Mun kuulet hengittävän, mun sydäntäni kuuntelet, sa kade, lemmenkade! -- mille sitten? .
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Nyt aika on lymytä sen, ken vielä katoksen löytää! Nyt vuoteelle käykää, ihmiset veltot! Nyt ukkoset holvien yllä vyöryy, nyt vapisee hirret ja muurit, rikinkarvaiset totuudet salamoina sinkoo -- nyt Zarathustra _kiroo_.
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