last his death?"--
The old pope however did not answer, but looked aside timidly, with a
painful and gloomy expression.
"Let him go," said Zarathustra, after prolonged meditation, still
looking the old man straight in the eye.
"Let him go, he is gone. And though it honoureth thee that thou speakest
only in praise of this dead one, yet thou knowest as well as I WHO he
was, and that he went curious ways."
"To speak before three eyes," said the old pope cheerfully (he was blind
of one eye), "in divine matters I am more enlightened than Zarathustra
himself--and may well be so.
My love served him long years, my will followed all his will. A good
servant, however, knoweth everything, and many a thing even which a
master hideth from himself.
He was a hidden God, full of secrecy. Verily, he did not come by his
son otherwise than by secret ways. At the door of his faith standeth
Whoever extolleth him as a God of love, doth not think highly enough of
love itself. Did not that God want also to be judge? But the loving one
loveth irrespective of reward and requital.
When he was young, that God out of the Orient, then was he harsh and
revengeful, and built himself a hell for the delight of his favourites.
At last, however, he became old and soft and mellow and pitiful,
more like a grandfather than a father, but most like a tottering old
There did he sit shrivelled in his chimney-corner, fretting on account
of his weak legs, world-weary, will-weary, and one day he suffocated of
his all-too-great pity."--
"Thou old pope," said here Zarathustra interposing, "hast thou seen THAT
with thine eyes? It could well have happened in that way: in that way,
AND also otherwise. When Gods die they always die many kinds of death.
Well! At all events, one way or other--he is gone! He was counter to the
taste of mine ears and eyes; worse than that I should not like to say
I love everything that looketh bright and speaketh honestly. But
he--thou knowest it, forsooth, thou old priest, there was something of
thy type in him, the priest-type--he was equivocal.
He was also indistinct. How he raged at us, this wrath-snorter, because
we understood him badly! But why did he not speak more clearly?
And if the fault lay in our ears, why did he give us ears that heard him
badly? If there was dirt in our ears, well! who put it in them?
Too much miscarried with him, this potter who had not learned
" Rather with the necessity with which a tree bears its fruit, so do our thoughts, our values, our Yes's and No's and If's and Whether's, grow connected and interrelated, mutual witnesses of _one_ will, _one_ health, _one_ kingdom, _one_ sun--as to whether they are to _your_ taste, these fruits of ours?--But what matters that to the trees? What matters that to us, us the philosophers? 3.Page 15
This Jesus of Nazareth, the incarnate gospel of love, this "Redeemer" bringing salvation and victory to the poor, the sick, the sinful--was he not really temptation in its most sinister and irresistible form, temptation to take the tortuous path to those very _Jewish_ values and those very Jewish ideals? Has not Israel really obtained the final goal of its sublime revenge, by the tortuous paths of this "Redeemer," for all that he might pose as Israel's adversary and Israel's destroyer? Is it not due to the black magic of a really _great_ policy of revenge, of a far-seeing, burrowing revenge, both acting and calculating.Page 34
"How is a memory to be made for the man-animal? How is an impression to be so deeply fixed upon this ephemeral understanding, half dense, and half silly, upon this incarnate forgetfulness, that it will be permanently present?" As one may imagine, this primeval problem was not solved by exactly gentle answers and gentle means; perhaps there is nothing more awful and more sinister in the early history of man than his _system of mnemonics_.Page 55
In sooth, only divine spectators could have appreciated the drama that then began, and whose end baffles conjecture as yet--a drama too subtle, too wonderful, too paradoxical to warrant its undergoing a non-sensical and unheeded performance on some random grotesque planet! Henceforth man is to be counted as one of the most unexpected and sensational lucky shots in the game of the "big baby" of Heracleitus, whether he be called Zeus or Chance--he awakens on his behalf the interest, excitement, hope, almost the confidence, of his being the harbinger and forerunner of something, of man being no end, but only a stage, an interlude, a bridge, a great promise.Page 56
Their work is an instinctive creating and impressing of forms, they are the most involuntary, unconscious artists that there are:--their appearance produces instantaneously a scheme of sovereignty which is live, in which the functions are partitioned and apportioned, in which above all no part is received or finds a place, until pregnant with a "meaning" in regard to the whole.Page 60
must he in sooth come to us, even the _redeemer_ of great love and scorn, the creative spirit, rebounding by the impetus of his own force back again away from every transcendental plane and dimension, he whose solitude is misunderstanded (sic) of the people, as though it were a flight _from_ reality;--while actually it is only his diving, burrowing, and penetrating _into_ reality, so that when he comes again to the light he can at once bring about by these means the _redemption_ of this reality; its redemption from the curse which the old ideal has laid upon it.Page 76
Every artist knows the harm done by sexual intercourse on.Page 77
Just enumerate in order the particular tendencies and virtues of the philosopher--his tendency to doubt, his tendency to deny, his tendency.Page 79
Every tiny step forward in the world was formerly made at the cost of mental and physical torture.Page 82
For an ascetic life is a self-contradiction: here rules resentment without parallel, the resentment of an insatiate instinct and ambition, that would be master, not over some element in life, but over life itself, over life's deepest, strongest, innermost conditions; here is an attempt made to utilise power to dam the sources of power; here does the green eye of jealousy turn even against physiological well-being, especially against the expression of such well-being, beauty, joy; while a sense of pleasure is experienced and _sought_ in abortion, in decay, in pain, in misfortune, in ugliness, in voluntary punishment, in the exercising, flagellation, and sacrifice of the self.Page 87
Oh, how they themselves are ready in their hearts to exact penance, how they thirst after being _hangmen_! Among them is an abundance of revengeful ones disguised as judges, who ever mouth the word righteousness like a venomous spittle--with mouth, I say, always pursed, always ready to spit at everything, which does not wear a discontented look, but is of good cheer as it goes on its way.Page 98
_, was the Greek; Plato shows it in a hundred places, Plato, who knew his contemporaries--and _himself_.Page 99
--If I am in any way a reader of riddles, then I will be one with this sentence: for some time past there have been no free spirits; _for they still believe in truth_.Page 112
Does any one seriously suggest that the downfall of the theological astronomy signified the downfall of that ideal?--Has, perchance, man grown _less in need_ of a transcendental solution of his riddle of existence, because since that time this existence has become more random, casual, and superfluous in the _visible_ order of the universe? Has there not been since the time of Copernicus an unbroken progress in the self-belittling of man and his _will_ for belittling himself? Alas, his belief in his dignity, his uniquenesses irreplaceableness in the scheme of existence, is gone--he has become animal, literal, unqualified, and unmitigated animal, he who in his earlier belief was almost God ("child of God," "demi-God").Page 119
What I observe with pleasure in the German is his Mephistophelian nature; but, to tell the truth, one must have a higher conception of Mephistopheles than Goethe had, who found it necessary to _diminish_ his Mephistopheles in order to magnify his "inner Faust.Page 121
The disposition of Beethoven is that of a proud peasant; of Haydn, that of a proud servant.Page 122
England's small-mindedness is the great danger now on earth.Page 123
A man must to-day be a soldier first and foremost that he may not afterwards lose his credit as a merchant.