Thus Spake Zarathustra: A Book for All and None

By Friedrich Nietzsche

Page 64

deed." But here one should not wish to be sparing.

Like a boil is the evil deed: it itcheth and irritateth and breaketh
forth--it speaketh honourably.

"Behold, I am disease," saith the evil deed: that is its honourableness.

But like infection is the petty thought: it creepeth and hideth, and
wanteth to be nowhere--until the whole body is decayed and withered by
the petty infection.

To him however, who is possessed of a devil, I would whisper this word
in the ear: "Better for thee to rear up thy devil! Even for thee there
is still a path to greatness!"--

Ah, my brethren! One knoweth a little too much about every one! And many
a one becometh transparent to us, but still we can by no means penetrate
him.

It is difficult to live among men because silence is so difficult.

And not to him who is offensive to us are we most unfair, but to him who
doth not concern us at all.

If, however, thou hast a suffering friend, then be a resting-place for
his suffering; like a hard bed, however, a camp-bed: thus wilt thou
serve him best.

And if a friend doeth thee wrong, then say: "I forgive thee what thou
hast done unto me; that thou hast done it unto THYSELF, however--how
could I forgive that!"

Thus speaketh all great love: it surpasseth even forgiveness and pity.

One should hold fast one's heart; for when one letteth it go, how
quickly doth one's head run away!

Ah, where in the world have there been greater follies than with the
pitiful? And what in the world hath caused more suffering than the
follies of the pitiful?

Woe unto all loving ones who have not an elevation which is above their
pity!

Thus spake the devil unto me, once on a time: "Even God hath his hell:
it is his love for man."

And lately, did I hear him say these words: "God is dead: of his pity
for man hath God died."--

So be ye warned against pity: FROM THENCE there yet cometh unto men a
heavy cloud! Verily, I understand weather-signs!

But attend also to this word: All great love is above all its pity: for
it seeketh--to create what is loved!

"Myself do I offer unto my love, AND MY NEIGHBOUR AS MYSELF"--such is
the language of all creators.

All creators, however, are hard.--

Thus spake Zarathustra.




XXVI. THE PRIESTS.

And one day Zarathustra made a sign to his disciples, and spake these
words unto them:

"Here are priests: but although they are mine enemies, pass them quietly
and with sleeping swords!

Even among them there are heroes; many of them

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The.