Thus Spake Zarathustra: A Book for All and None

By Friedrich Nietzsche

Page 164

refined features. But he restrained
himself. "Well!" said he, "thither leadeth the way, there lieth the
cave of Zarathustra; and this day is to have a long evening! At present,
however, a cry of distress calleth me hastily away from you.

It will honour my cave if kings want to sit and wait in it: but, to be
sure, ye will have to wait long!

Well! What of that! Where doth one at present learn better to wait
than at courts? And the whole virtue of kings that hath remained unto
them--is it not called to-day: ABILITY to wait?"

Thus spake Zarathustra.




LXIV. THE LEECH.

And Zarathustra went thoughtfully on, further and lower down, through
forests and past moory bottoms; as it happeneth, however, to every one
who meditateth upon hard matters, he trod thereby unawares upon a man.
And lo, there spurted into his face all at once a cry of pain, and two
curses and twenty bad invectives, so that in his fright he raised his
stick and also struck the trodden one. Immediately afterwards, however,
he regained his composure, and his heart laughed at the folly he had
just committed.

"Pardon me," said he to the trodden one, who had got up enraged, and had
seated himself, "pardon me, and hear first of all a parable.

As a wanderer who dreameth of remote things on a lonesome highway,
runneth unawares against a sleeping dog, a dog which lieth in the sun:

--As both of them then start up and snap at each other, like deadly
enemies, those two beings mortally frightened--so did it happen unto us.

And yet! And yet--how little was lacking for them to caress each other,
that dog and that lonesome one! Are they not both--lonesome ones!"

--"Whoever thou art," said the trodden one, still enraged, "thou
treadest also too nigh me with thy parable, and not only with thy foot!

Lo! am I then a dog?"--And thereupon the sitting one got up, and pulled
his naked arm out of the swamp. For at first he had lain outstretched
on the ground, hidden and indiscernible, like those who lie in wait for
swamp-game.

"But whatever art thou about!" called out Zarathustra in alarm, for he
saw a deal of blood streaming over the naked arm,--"what hath hurt thee?
Hath an evil beast bit thee, thou unfortunate one?"

The bleeding one laughed, still angry, "What matter is it to thee!" said
he, and was about to go on. "Here am I at home and in my province.
Let him question me whoever will: to a dolt, however, I shall hardly
answer."

"Thou art mistaken," said

Last Page Next Page

Text Comparison with Thoughts Out of Season, Part II

Page 2
" These words of Goethe, like a sincere _ceterum censeo_, may well stand at the head of my thoughts on the worth and the worthlessness of history.
Page 14
" Each of the three kinds of history will only flourish in one ground and climate: otherwise it grows to a noxious weed.
Page 18
This is the natural relation of an age, a culture and a people to history; hunger is its source, necessity its norm, the inner plastic power assigns its limits.
Page 22
One may think the German people to be very far from this danger: yet the foreigner will have some warrant for his reproach that our inward life is too weak and ill-organised to provide a form and external expression for itself.
Page 37
.
Page 40
They only require to take themselves less seriously to be able to open their little kingdom successfully to popular curiosity.
Page 44
He ought to have said that everything after him was merely to be regarded as the musical coda of the great historical.
Page 55
"last scene of all That ends this strange eventful history, Is second childishness and mere oblivion, Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
Page 58
It is the same mad method that carries our young artists off to picture-galleries, instead of the studio of a master, and above all the one studio of the only master, Nature.
Page 62
and that all ideas and impulses and passions are massed together in these truisms that cannot lie covered for long.
Page 72
He finds his way, without our noticing that he has been seeking it: so surely and cleverly and inevitably does he run his course, as if by some law of gravitation.
Page 81
And this is the title of the modern philosophers to sit among the great aiders of Life (or rather of the will to live), and the reason why they can look from their own out-wearied time and aspire to a truer culture, and a clearer explanation.
Page 89
But "gift" and "compulsion" are contemptible words, mere means of escape from an inner voice, a slander on him who has listened to the voice--the great man; he least of all will allow himself to be given or compelled to anything: for he knows as well as any smaller man how easily life can be taken and how soft the bed whereon he might lie if he went the pleasant and conventional way with himself and his fellow-creatures: all the regulations of mankind are turned to the end that the intense feeling of life may be lost in continual distractions.
Page 93
But we should consider where the beast ends and the man begins--the man, the one concern of Nature.
Page 97
This way of thinking should be implanted and fostered in every young man's mind: he should regard himself both as a.
Page 99
Any one who can reach the second step, will see how extremely rare and imperceptible the knowledge of that end is, though all men busy themselves with culture and expend vast labour in her service.
Page 105
Fifthly, diffidence, or a low estimate of himself.
Page 111
Nature is a bad manager; her expenses are far greater than her profits: for all her riches she must one day go bankrupt.
Page 120
The mass of a system attracts the young and impresses the unwary; but cultivated people are very dubious about it.
Page 123
Classical antiquity is the favourite playground nowadays, and its effect is no longer classical and formative; as is shown by the students, who are certainly no models for imitation.