Thus Spake Zarathustra: A Book for All and None

By Friedrich Nietzsche

Page 61

learn to roar softly! And much have we already
learned with one another!

My wild wisdom became pregnant on the lonesome mountains; on the rough
stones did she bear the youngest of her young.

Now runneth she foolishly in the arid wilderness, and seeketh and
seeketh the soft sward--mine old, wild wisdom!

On the soft sward of your hearts, my friends!--on your love, would she
fain couch her dearest one!--

Thus spake Zarathustra.


The figs fall from the trees, they are good and sweet; and in falling
the red skins of them break. A north wind am I to ripe figs.

Thus, like figs, do these doctrines fall for you, my friends: imbibe
now their juice and their sweet substance! It is autumn all around, and
clear sky, and afternoon.

Lo, what fullness is around us! And out of the midst of superabundance,
it is delightful to look out upon distant seas.

Once did people say God, when they looked out upon distant seas; now,
however, have I taught you to say, Superman.

God is a conjecture: but I do not wish your conjecturing to reach beyond
your creating will.

Could ye CREATE a God?--Then, I pray you, be silent about all Gods! But
ye could well create the Superman.

Not perhaps ye yourselves, my brethren! But into fathers and forefathers
of the Superman could ye transform yourselves: and let that be your best

God is a conjecture: but I should like your conjecturing restricted to
the conceivable.

Could ye CONCEIVE a God?--But let this mean Will to Truth unto you,
that everything be transformed into the humanly conceivable, the humanly
visible, the humanly sensible! Your own discernment shall ye follow out
to the end!

And what ye have called the world shall but be created by you: your
reason, your likeness, your will, your love, shall it itself become! And
verily, for your bliss, ye discerning ones!

And how would ye endure life without that hope, ye discerning ones?
Neither in the inconceivable could ye have been born, nor in the

But that I may reveal my heart entirely unto you, my friends: IF there
were gods, how could I endure it to be no God! THEREFORE there are no

Yea, I have drawn the conclusion; now, however, doth it draw me.--

God is a conjecture: but who could drink all the bitterness of this
conjecture without dying? Shall his faith be taken from the creating
one, and from the eagle his flights into eagle-heights?

God is a thought--it maketh all the straight crooked, and all that
standeth reel. What? Time would be gone, and all the

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Text Comparison with Human, All-Too-Human: A Book for Free Spirits, Part 1 Complete Works, Volume Six

Page 7
If for a long time he scarcely dared to ask himself, "Why so apart? So alone? denying everything that I revered? denying reverence itself? Why this hatred, this suspicion, this severity towards my own virtues?"--he now dares and asks the questions aloud, and already hears something like an answer to them-- "Thou shouldst become master over thyself and master also of thine own virtues.
Page 15
Therefore, in sleep and in dreams we once more carry out the task of early humanity.
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To this extent the recommendation is justifiable.
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--An important species of pleasure, and therewith the source of morality, arises out of habit.
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The delusion of the acting agent about himself, the supposition of a free will, belongs to this mechanism which still remains to be calculated.
Page 81
The saint's eye, fixed upon the terrible meaning of this short earthly life, upon the nearness of the last decision concerning endless new spans of existence, this burning eye in a half-wasted body made men of the old world tremble to their very depths; to gaze, to turn shudderingly away, to feel anew the attraction of the spectacle and to give way to it, to drink deep of it till the soul quivered with fire and ague,--that was the last _pleasure that antiquity invented_ after it had grown blunted even at the sight of beast-baitings and human combats.
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But sometimes, when intellect and character are lacking for the formation of such an artistic career, fate and necessity take the place of these qualities and lead the future master step by step through all the phases of his craft.
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We could renounce art, but we should not therewith forfeit the ability it has taught us,--just as we have given up religion, but not the exalting and intensifying of temperament acquired through religion.
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It is on the more unrestricted, more uncertain and morally weaker individuals that depends the _intellectual progress_ of such communities, it is they who attempt all that is new and manifold.
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Sometimes it is also said that the cause of such and such free principles may be traced to mental perversity and extravagance; but only malice speaks thus, nor does it believe what it says, but wishes thereby to do an injury, for the free-thinker; usually bears the proof of his greater goodness and keenness of intellect written in his face so plainly that the fettered spirits understand it well enough.
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--After a conversation with a person one is best pleased with him I when one has had an opportunity of exhibiting one's intelligence and amiability in all its glory.
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In _freer_ circumstances people subordinate themselves only on conditions, in compliance with a mutual contract, consequently with all the provisos of self-interest.
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heart to a prince, a party, a woman, a priestly order, an artist, or a thinker, in a state of infatuated delusion that threw a charm over us and made those beings appear worthy of all veneration, and every sacrifice--are we, therefore, firmly and inevitably bound? Or did we not, after all, deceive ourselves then? Was there not a hypothetical promise, under the tacit presupposition that those beings to whom we consecrated ourselves were really the beings they seemed to be in our imagination? Are we under obligation to be faithful to our errors, even with the knowledge that by this fidelity we shall cause injury to our higher selves? No, there is no law, no obligation of that sort; we _must_ become traitors, we must act unfaithfully and abandon our ideals again and again.
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We reverence her as the veiled Isis of our life; with shame we offer her our pain as penance and sacrifice when the fire threatens to burn and consume us.