city of compressed souls and slender breasts, of pointed
eyes and sticky fingers--
--On the city of the obtrusive, the brazen-faced, the pen-demagogues and
tongue-demagogues, the overheated ambitious:--
Where everything maimed, ill-famed, lustful, untrustful, over-mellow,
sickly-yellow and seditious, festereth pernicious:--
--Spit on the great city and turn back!--
Here, however, did Zarathustra interrupt the foaming fool, and shut his
Stop this at once! called out Zarathustra, long have thy speech and thy
species disgusted me!
Why didst thou live so long by the swamp, that thou thyself hadst to
become a frog and a toad?
Floweth there not a tainted, frothy, swamp-blood in thine own veins,
when thou hast thus learned to croak and revile?
Why wentest thou not into the forest? Or why didst thou not till the
ground? Is the sea not full of green islands?
I despise thy contempt; and when thou warnedst me--why didst thou not
Out of love alone shall my contempt and my warning bird take wing; but
not out of the swamp!--
They call thee mine ape, thou foaming fool: but I call thee my
grunting-pig,--by thy grunting, thou spoilest even my praise of folly.
What was it that first made thee grunt? Because no one sufficiently
FLATTERED thee:--therefore didst thou seat thyself beside this filth,
that thou mightest have cause for much grunting,--
--That thou mightest have cause for much VENGEANCE! For vengeance, thou
vain fool, is all thy foaming; I have divined thee well!
But thy fools'-word injureth ME, even when thou art right! And even if
Zarathustra's word WERE a hundred times justified, thou wouldst ever--DO
wrong with my word!
Thus spake Zarathustra. Then did he look on the great city and sighed,
and was long silent. At last he spake thus:
I loathe also this great city, and not only this fool. Here and there--
there is nothing to better, nothing to worsen.
Woe to this great city!--And I would that I already saw the pillar of
fire in which it will be consumed!
For such pillars of fire must precede the great noontide. But this hath
its time and its own fate.--
This precept, however, give I unto thee, in parting, thou fool: Where
one can no longer love, there should one--PASS BY!--
Thus spake Zarathustra, and passed by the fool and the great city.
LII. THE APOSTATES.
Ah, lieth everything already withered and grey which but lately stood
green and many-hued on this meadow! And how much honey of hope did I
carry hence into my beehives!
Those young hearts have already all become old--and not old even! only
weary, ordinary, comfortable:--they declare it: "We have again become
Of late did I
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