time: it hath forgotten me perhaps? Or doth it sit
behind a big stone and catch flies?
And verily, I am well-disposed to mine eternal fate, because it doth not
hound and hurry me, but leaveth me time for merriment and mischief; so
that I have to-day ascended this high mountain to catch fish.
Did ever any one catch fish upon high mountains? And though it be a
folly what I here seek and do, it is better so than that down below I
should become solemn with waiting, and green and yellow--
--A posturing wrath-snorter with waiting, a holy howl-storm from
the mountains, an impatient one that shouteth down into the valleys:
"Hearken, else I will scourge you with the scourge of God!"
Not that I would have a grudge against such wrathful ones on that
account: they are well enough for laughter to me! Impatient must they
now be, those big alarm-drums, which find a voice now or never!
Myself, however, and my fate--we do not talk to the Present, neither
do we talk to the Never: for talking we have patience and time and more
than time. For one day must it yet come, and may not pass by.
What must one day come and may not pass by? Our great Hazar, that is
to say, our great, remote human-kingdom, the Zarathustra-kingdom of a
How remote may such "remoteness" be? What doth it concern me? But on
that account it is none the less sure unto me--, with both feet stand I
secure on this ground;
--On an eternal ground, on hard primary rock, on this highest, hardest,
primary mountain-ridge, unto which all winds come, as unto the
storm-parting, asking Where? and Whence? and Whither?
Here laugh, laugh, my hearty, healthy wickedness! From high mountains
cast down thy glittering scorn-laughter! Allure for me with thy
glittering the finest human fish!
And whatever belongeth unto ME in all seas, my in-and-for-me in all
things--fish THAT out for me, bring THAT up to me: for that do I wait,
the wickedest of all fish-catchers.
Out! out! my fishing-hook! In and down, thou bait of my happiness! Drip
thy sweetest dew, thou honey of my heart! Bite, my fishing-hook, into
the belly of all black affliction!
Look out, look out, mine eye! Oh, how many seas round about me, what
dawning human futures! And above me--what rosy red stillness! What
LXII. THE CRY OF DISTRESS.
The next day sat Zarathustra again on the stone in front of his cave,
whilst his animals roved about in the world outside to bring home new
food,--also new honey: for Zarathustra
Nor is this to be wondered at, for all men must sweep away the rubbish before they.Page 2
But first I always needed time, convalescence, distance, separation, before I felt the stirrings of a desire to flay, despoil, lay bare, "represent" (or whatever one likes to call it) for the additional knowledge of the world, something that I had lived through and outlived, something done or suffered.Page 7
PART I.Page 13
THE OBSCURANTISTS.Page 30
--That speech is not given to us to communicate our emotions may be seen from the fact that all simple men are ashamed to seek for words to express their deeper feelings.Page 39
Such luxuries hang long on the tree like forbidden fruit.Page 41
Hence nothing remains but some day to fly from the grotto of the nymph, and through perils and billowy seas to forge one's way to the smoke of Ithaca and the embraces of a simpler and more human spouse.Page 51
PHILOSOPHERS AND ARTISTS OF THE AGE.Page 70
EVERY PHILOSOPHY IS THE PHILOSOPHY OF A PERIOD OF LIFE.Page 82
--When life has treated us in true robber fashion, and has taken away all that it could of honour, joys, connections, health, and property of every kind, we perhaps discover in the end, after the first shock, that we are richer than before.Page 87
That shadow which all things cast when the sunshine of knowledge falls upon them--that shadow too am I.Page 92
"IN THE BEGINNING WAS.Page 130
--At times, indeed, he had some inkling of this, and yet would fain not have believed it--he, the ambitious priest, who would have so gladly been the intellectual pope of his epoch! This is his despair.Page 144
I threw him a look of recognition--in reality it hurt me cruelly.Page 158
Nor is it really an excessive ambition, so long as these fluctuations still exist, for Paris, for example, to claim to be the sole inventor and innovator in this sphere.Page 169
in a small degree, we do on every New Year's Eve with the whole past year.Page 179
Practical people, accordingly, do not like the prudent man, thinking he is to them a danger.Page 184
Such, in fact, was to some extent the case, but, as he once said, "Yet a bitterness of the deepest dye is mingled with my feeling, such as I did not know in earlier life; for since I learnt to value men and myself more correctly, my intellect seems to me of less use.