Thou hast had a bad day: see that a
still worse evening doth not overtake thee!
still worse evening doth not overtake thee!
Nietzsche - v11 - Thus Spake Zarathustra
Thy stomach wanteth softer things :
thou art not a butcher.
Rather seemest thou to me a plant-eater and a
root-man. Perhaps thou grindest corn. Certainly,
## p. 331 (#495) ############################################
LXVIII. —THE VOLUNTARY BEGGAR. 33 T
however, thou art averse to fleshly joys, and thou
lovest honey. "
"Thou hast divined me well," answered the
voluntary beggar, with lightened heart. "I love
honey, I also grind corn; for I have sought out
what tasteth sweetly and maketh pure breath:
—Also what requireth a long time, a day's-work
and a mouth's-work for gentle idlers and sluggards.
Furthest, to be sure, have those kine carried it:
they have devised ruminating and lying in the sun.
They also abstain from all heavy thoughts which
inflate the heart. "
—" Well! " said Zarathustra, " thou shouldst also
see mine animals, mine eagle and my serpent,—
their like do not at present exist on earth.
Behold, thither leadeth the way to my cave: be
to-night its guest. And talk to mine animals of the
happiness of animals,—
—Until I myself come home. For now a cry of
distress calleth me hastily away from thee. Also,
shouldst thou find new honey with me, ice-cold,
golden-comb-honey, eat it!
Now, however, take leave at once of thy kine, thou
strange one! thou amiable one! though it be hard
for thee. For they are thy warmest friends and
preceptors! "—
—" One excepted, whom I hold still dearer,"
answered the voluntary beggar. "Thou thyself art
good, O Zarathustra, and better even than a cow! "
"Away, away with thee! thou evil flatterer! "
cried Zarathustra mischievously, "why dost thou
spoil me with such praise and flattery-honey? "
"Away, away from me! " cried he once more,
## p. 332 (#496) ############################################
332
THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, IV.
and heaved his stick at the fond beggar, who, how-
ever, ran nimbly away.
LXIX. —THE SHADOW.
Scarcely however was the voluntary beggar gone
in haste, and Zarathustra again alone, when he
heard behind him a new voice which called out:
“Stay! Zarathustra! Do wait! It is myself, for-
sooth, O Zarathustra, myself, thy shadow ! ” But
Zarathustra did not wait; for a sudden irritation
came over him on account of the crowd and the
crowding in his mountains. “Whither hath my
lonesomeness gone? " spake he.
" It is verily becoming too much for me; these
mountains swarm; my kingdom is no longer of
this world; I require new mountains.
My shadow calleth me? What matter about
my shadow! Let it run after me! 1-run away
from it. "
Thus spake Zarathustra to his heart and ran
away. But the one behind followed after him, so
that immediately there were three runners, one
after the other—namely, foremost the voluntary
beggar, then Zarathustra, and thirdly, and hind-
most, his shadow. But not long had they run thus
when Zarathustra became conscious of his folly,
and shook off with one jerk all his irritation and
detestation.
“What! ” said he, “have not the most ludicrous
things always happened to us old anchorites and
saints ?
Verily, my folly hath grown big in the moun-
## p. 333 (#497) ############################################
LXIX. —THE SHADOW. 333
tains! Now do I hear six old fools' legs rattling
behind one another!
But doth Zarathustra need to be frightened by
his shadow? Also, methinketh that after all it
hath longer legs than mine. "
Thus spake Zarathustra, and, laughing with eyes
and entrails, he stood still and turned round
quickly—and behold, he almost thereby threw his
shadow and follower to the ground, so closely had
the latter followed at his heels, and so weak was
he. For when Zarathustra scrutinised him with
his glance he was frightened as by a sudden
apparition, so slender, swarthy, hollow and worn-
out did this follower appear.
"Who art thou ? " asked Zarathustra vehemently,
"what doest thou here? And why callest thou
thyself my shadow? Thou art not pleasing unto
me.
"Forgive me," answered the shadow, " that it is
I ; and if I please thee not—well, O Zarathustra!
therein do I admire thee and thy good taste.
A wanderer am I, who have walked long at thy
heels; always on the way, but without a goal, also
without a home : so that verily, I lack little of being
the eternally Wandering Jew, except that I am not
eternal and not a Jew.
What? Must I ever be on the way? Whirled
by every wind, unsettled, driven about? O earth,
thou hast become too round for me!
On every surface have I already sat, like tired
dust have I fallen asleep on mirrors and window-
panes: everything taketh from me, nothing giveth;
I become thin—I am almost equal to a shadow.
## p. 334 (#498) ############################################
334 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, IV.
After thee, however, O Zarathustra, did I fly and
hie longest; and though I hid myself from thee,
I was nevertheless thy best shadow: wherever thou
hast sat, there sat I also.
With thee have I wandered about in the re-
motest, coldest worlds, like a phantom that
voluntarily haunteth winter roofs and snows.
With thee have I pushed into all the forbidden,
all the worst and the furthest: and if there be any-
thing of virtue in me, it is that I have had no fear
of any prohibition.
With thee have I broken up whatever my heart
revered; all boundary-stones and statues have I
o'erthrown; the most dangerous wishes did I
pursue,—verily, beyond every crime did I once go.
With thee did I unlearn the belief in words and
worths and in great names. When the devil
casteth his skin, doth not his name also fall away?
It is also skin. The devil himself is perhaps—skin.
'Nothing is true, all is permitted': so said I to
myself. Into the coldest water did I plunge with
head and heart. Ah, how oft did I stand there
naked on that account, like a red crab!
Ah, where have gone all my goodness and all my
shame and all my belief in the good! Ah, where
is the lying innocence which I once possessed, the
innocence of the good and of their noble lies!
Too oft, verily, did I follow close to the heels of
truth: then did it kick me on the face. Some-
times I meant to lie, and behold! then only did
I hit—the truth.
Too much hath become clear unto me: now it
doth not concern me any more. Nothing liveth
## p. 335 (#499) ############################################
LXIX. —THE SHADOW. 335
any longer that I love,—how should I still love
myself?
'To live as I incline, or not to live at all': so do
I wish; so wisheth also the holiest. But alas!
how have / still—inclination?
Have /—still a goal? A haven towards which my
sail is set?
A good wind? Ah, he only who knoweth
whither he saileth, knoweth what wind is good, and
a fair wind for him.
What still remaineth to me? A heart weary and
flippant; an unstable will; fluttering wings; a
broken backbone.
This seeking for my home: O Zarathustra, dost
thou know that this seeking hath been my home-
sickening; it eateth me up.
'Where is—my home? ' For it do I ask and
seek, and have sought, but have not found it. O
eternal everywhere, O eternal nowhere, O eternal
—in-vain! "
Thus spake the shadow, and Zarathustra's coun-
tenance lengthened at his words. "Thou art my
shadow ! " said he at last sadly.
"Thy danger is not small, thou free spirit and
wanderer! Thou hast had a bad day: see that a
still worse evening doth not overtake thee!
To such unsettled ones as thou, seemeth at last
even a prisoner blessed. Didst thou ever see how
captured criminals sleep? They sleep quietly, they
enjoy their new security.
Beware lest in the end a narrow faith capture
thee, a hard, rigorous delusion! For now every-
## p. 335 (#500) ############################################
334 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, IV.
After thee, however, O Zarathustra, did I fly and
hie longest; and though I hid myself from thee,
I was nevertheless thy best shadow: wherever thou
hast sat, there sat I also.
With thee have I wandered about in the re-
motest, coldest worlds, like a phantom that
voluntarily haunteth winter roofs and snows.
With thee have I pushed into all the forbidden,
all the worst and the furthest: and if there be any-
thing of virtue in me, it is that I have had no fear
of any prohibition.
With thee have I broken up whatever my heart
revered; all boundary-stones and statues have I
o'erthrown; the most dangerous wishes did I
pursue,—verily, beyond every crime did I once go.
With thee did I unlearn the belief in words and
worths and in great names. When the devil
casteth his skin, doth not his name also fall away?
It is also skin. The devil himself is perhaps—skin.
'Nothing is true, all is permitted': so said I to
myself. Into the coldest water did I plunge with
head and heart. Ah, how oft did I stand there
naked on that account, like a red crab!
Ah, where have gone all my goodness and all my
shame and all my belief in the good! Ah, where
is the lying innocence which I once possessed, the
innocence of the good and of their noble lies!
Too oft, verily, did I follow close to the heels of
truth: then did it kick me on the face. Some-
times I meant to lie, and behold! then only did
I hit—the truth.
Too much hath become clear unto me: now it
doth not concern me any more. Nothing liveth
## p. 335 (#501) ############################################
LXIX. —THE SHADOW. 335
any longer that I love,—how should I still love
myself?
'To live as I incline, or not to live at all': so do
I wish; so wisheth also the holiest. But alas!
how have / still—inclination?
Have /—still a goal? A haven towards which my
sail is set?
A good wind? Ah, he only who knoweth
whither he saileth, knoweth what wind is good, and
a fair wind for him.
What still remaineth to me? A heart weary and
flippant; an unstable will; fluttering wings; a
broken backbone.
This seeking for my home: O Zarathustra, dost
thou know that this seeking hath been my home-
sickening; it eateth me up.
'Where is—my home? ' For it do I ask and
seek, and have sought, but have not found it. O
eternal everywhere, O eternal nowhere, O eternal
—in-vain! "
Thus spake the shadow, and Zarathustra's coun-
tenance lengthened at his words. "Thou art my
shadow ! " said he at last sadly.
"Thy danger is not small, thou free spirit and
wanderer! Thou hast had a bad day: see that a
still worse evening doth not overtake thee!
To such unsettled ones as thou, seemeth at last
even a prisoner blessed. Didst thou ever see how
captured criminals sleep? They sleep quietly, they
enjoy their new security.
Beware lest in the end a narrow faith capture
thee, a hard, rigorous delusion! For now every-
## p. 335 (#502) ############################################
334 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, IV.
After thee, however, O Zarathustra, did I fly and
hie longest; and though I hid myself from thee,
I was nevertheless thy best shadow: wherever thou
hast sat, there sat I also.
With thee have I wandered about in the re-
motest, coldest worlds, like a phantom that
voluntarily haunteth winter roofs and snows.
With thee have I pushed into all the forbidden,
all the worst and the furthest: and if there be any-
thing of virtue in me, it is that I have had no fear
of any prohibition.
With thee have I broken up whatever my heart
revered; all boundary-stones and statues have I
o'erthrown; the most dangerous wishes did I
pursue,—verily, beyond every crime did I once go.
With thee did I unlearn the belief in words and
worths and in great names. When the devil
casteth his skin, doth not his name also fall away?
It is also skin. The devil himself is perhaps—skin.
'Nothing is true, all is permitted': so said I to
myself. Into the coldest water did I plunge with
head and heart. Ah, how oft did I stand there
naked on that account, like a red crab!
Ah, where have gone all my goodness and all my
shame and all my belief in the good! Ah, where
is the lying innocence which I once possessed, the
innocence of the good and of their noble lies!
Too oft, verily, did I follow close to the heels of
truth: then did it kick me on the face. Some-
times I meant to lie, and behold! then only did
I hit—the truth.
Too much hath become clear unto me: now it
doth not concern me any more. Nothing liveth
## p. 335 (#503) ############################################
LXIX. —THE SHADOW. 335
any longer that I love,—how should I still love
myself?
'To live as I incline, or not to live at all': so do
I wish; so wisheth also the holiest. But alas!
how have / still—inclination?
Have /—still a goal? A haven towards which my
sail is set?
A good wind? Ah, he only who knoweth
whither he saileth, knoweth what wind is good, and
a fair wind for him.
What still remaineth to me? A heart weary and
flippant; an unstable will; fluttering wings; a
broken backbone.
This seeking for my home: O Zarathustra, dost
thou know that this seeking hath been my home-
sickening; it eateth me up.
'Where is—my home? ' For it do I ask and
seek, and have sought, but have not found it. O
eternal everywhere, O eternal nowhere, O eternal
—in-vain! "
Thus spake the shadow, and Zarathustra's coun-
tenance lengthened at his words. "Thou art my
shadow ! " said he at last sadly.
"Thy danger is not small, thou free spirit and
wanderer!
Thou hast had a bad day: see that a
still worse evening doth not overtake thee!
To such unsettled ones as thou, seemeth at last
even a prisoner blessed. Didst thou ever see how
captured criminals sleep? They sleep quietly, they
enjoy their new security.
Beware lest in the end a narrow faith capture
thee, a hard, rigorous delusion! For now every-
## p. 335 (#504) ############################################
334 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, IV.
After thee, however, O Zarathustra, did I fly and
hie longest; and though I hid myself from thee,
I was nevertheless thy best shadow: wherever thou
hast sat, there sat I also.
With thee have I wandered about in the re-
motest, coldest worlds, like a phantom that
voluntarily haunteth winter roofs and snows.
With thee have I pushed into all the forbidden,
all the worst and the furthest: and if there be any-
thing of virtue in me, it is that I have had no fear
of any prohibition.
With thee have I broken up whatever my heart
revered; all boundary-stones and statues have I
o'erthrown; the most dangerous wishes did I
pursue,—verily, beyond every crime did I once go.
With thee did I unlearn the belief in words and
worths and in great names. When the devil
casteth his skin, doth not his name also fall away?
It is also skin. The devil himself is perhaps—skin.
'Nothing is true, all is permitted': so said I to
myself. Into the coldest water did I plunge with
head and heart. Ah, how oft did I stand there
naked on that account, like a red crab!
Ah, where have gone all my goodness and all my
shame and all my belief in the good! Ah, where
is the lying innocence which I once possessed, the
innocence of the good and of their noble lies!
Too oft, verily, did I follow close to the heels of
truth: then did it kick me on the face. Some-
times I meant to lie, and behold! then only did
I hit—the truth.
Too much hath become clear unto me: now it
doth not concern me any more. Nothing liveth
## p. 335 (#505) ############################################
LXIX. —THE SHADOW. 335
any longer that I love,—how should I still love
myself?
'To live as I incline, or not to live at all': so do
I wish; so wisheth also the holiest. But alas!
how have / still—inclination?
Have /—still a goal? A haven towards which my
sail is set?
A good wind? Ah, he only who knoweth
whither he saileth, knoweth what wind is good, and
a fair wind for him.
What still remaineth to me? A heart weary and
flippant; an unstable will; fluttering wings; a
broken backbone.
This seeking for my home: O Zarathustra, dost
thou know that this seeking hath been my home-
sickening; it eateth me up.
'Where is—my home? ' For it do I ask and
seek, and have sought, but have not found it. O
eternal everywhere, O eternal nowhere, O eternal
—in-vain! "
Thus spake the shadow, and Zarathustra's coun-
tenance lengthened at his words. "Thou art my
shadow ! " said he at last sadly.
"Thy danger is not small, thou free spirit and
wanderer! Thou hast had a bad day: see that a
still worse evening doth not overtake thee!
To such unsettled ones as thou, seemeth at last
even a prisoner blessed. Didst thou ever see how
captured criminals sleep? They sleep quietly, they
enjoy their new security.
Beware lest in the end a narrow faith capture
thee, a hard, rigorous delusion! For now every-
## p. 335 (#506) ############################################
334 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, IV.
After thee, however, O Zarathustra, did I fly and
hie longest; and though I hid myself from thee,
I was nevertheless thy best shadow: wherever thou
hast sat, there sat I also.
With thee have I wandered about in the re-
motest, coldest worlds, like a phantom that
voluntarily haunteth winter roofs and snows.
With thee have I pushed into all the forbidden,
all the worst and the furthest: and if there be any-
thing of virtue in me, it is that I have had no fear
of any prohibition.
With thee have I broken up whatever my heart
revered; all boundary-stones and statues have I
o'erthrown; the most dangerous wishes did I
pursue,—verily, beyond every crime did I once go.
With thee did I unlearn the belief in words and
worths and in great names. When the devil
casteth his skin, doth not his name also fall away?
It is also skin. The devil himself is perhaps—skin.
'Nothing is true, all is permitted': so said I to
myself. Into the coldest water did I plunge with
head and heart. Ah, how oft did I stand there
naked on that account, like a red crab!
Ah, where have gone all my goodness and all my
shame and all my belief in the good! Ah, where
is the lying innocence which I once possessed, the
innocence of the good and of their noble lies!
Too oft, verily, did I follow close to the heels of
truth: then did it kick me on the face. Some-
times I meant to lie, and behold! then only did
I hit—the truth.
Too much hath become clear unto me: now it
doth not concern me any more. Nothing liveth
## p. 335 (#507) ############################################
LXIX. —THE SHADOW. 335
any longer that I love,—how should I still love
myself?
'To live as I incline, or not to live at all': so do
I wish; so wisheth also the holiest. But alas!
how have / still—inclination?
Have /—still a goal? A haven towards which my
sail is set?
A good wind? Ah, he only who knoweth
whither he saileth, knoweth what wind is good, and
a fair wind for him.
What still remaineth to me? A heart weary and
flippant; an unstable will; fluttering wings; a
broken backbone.
This seeking for my home: O Zarathustra, dost
thou know that this seeking hath been my home-
sickening; it eateth me up.
'Where is—my home? ' For it do I ask and
seek, and have sought, but have not found it. O
eternal everywhere, O eternal nowhere, O eternal
—in-vain! "
Thus spake the shadow, and Zarathustra's coun-
tenance lengthened at his words. "Thou art my
shadow ! " said he at last sadly.
"Thy danger is not small, thou free spirit and
wanderer! Thou hast had a bad day: see that a
still worse evening doth not overtake thee!
To such unsettled ones as thou, seemeth at last
even a prisoner blessed. Didst thou ever see how
captured criminals sleep? They sleep quietly, they
enjoy their new security.
Beware lest in the end a narrow faith capture
thee, a hard, rigorous delusion! For now every-
## p. 335 (#508) ############################################
334 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, IV.
After thee, however, O Zarathustra, did I fly and
hie longest; and though I hid myself from thee,
I was nevertheless thy best shadow: wherever thou
hast sat, there sat I also.
With thee have I wandered about in the re-
motest, coldest worlds, like a phantom that
voluntarily haunteth winter roofs and snows.
With thee have I pushed into all the forbidden,
all the worst and the furthest: and if there be any-
thing of virtue in me, it is that I have had no fear
of any prohibition.
With thee have I broken up whatever my heart
revered; all boundary-stones and statues have I
o'erthrown; the most dangerous wishes did I
pursue,—verily, beyond every crime did I once go.
With thee did I unlearn the belief in words and
worths and in great names. When the devil
casteth his skin, doth not his name also fall away?
It is also skin. The devil himself is perhaps—skin.
'Nothing is true, all is permitted': so said I to
myself. Into the coldest water did I plunge with
head and heart. Ah, how oft did I stand there
naked on that account, like a red crab!
Ah, where have gone all my goodness and all my
shame and all my belief in the good! Ah, where
is the lying innocence which I once possessed, the
innocence of the good and of their noble lies!
Too oft, verily, did I follow close to the heels of
truth: then did it kick me on the face. Some-
times I meant to lie, and behold! then only did
I hit—the truth.
Too much hath become clear unto me: now it
doth not concern me any more. Nothing liveth
## p. 335 (#509) ############################################
LXIX. —THE SHADOW. 335
any longer that I love,—how should I still love
myself?
'To live as I incline, or not to live at all': so do
I wish; so wisheth also the holiest. But alas!
how have / still—inclination?
Have /—still a goal? A haven towards which my
sail is set?
A good wind? Ah, he only who knoweth
whither he saileth, knoweth what wind is good, and
a fair wind for him.
What still remaineth to me? A heart weary and
flippant; an unstable will; fluttering wings; a
broken backbone.
This seeking for my home: O Zarathustra, dost
thou know that this seeking hath been my home-
sickening; it eateth me up.
'Where is—my home? ' For it do I ask and
seek, and have sought, but have not found it. O
eternal everywhere, O eternal nowhere, O eternal
—in-vain! "
Thus spake the shadow, and Zarathustra's coun-
tenance lengthened at his words. "Thou art my
shadow ! " said he at last sadly.
"Thy danger is not small, thou free spirit and
wanderer! Thou hast had a bad day: see that a
still worse evening doth not overtake thee!
To such unsettled ones as thou, seemeth at last
even a prisoner blessed. Didst thou ever see how
captured criminals sleep? They sleep quietly, they
enjoy their new security.
Beware lest in the end a narrow faith capture
thee, a hard, rigorous delusion! For now every-
## p. 335 (#510) ############################################
334 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, IV.
After thee, however, O Zarathustra, did I fly and
hie longest; and though I hid myself from thee,
I was nevertheless thy best shadow: wherever thou
hast sat, there sat I also.
With thee have I wandered about in the re-
motest, coldest worlds, like a phantom that
voluntarily haunteth winter roofs and snows.
With thee have I pushed into all the forbidden,
all the worst and the furthest: and if there be any-
thing of virtue in me, it is that I have had no fear
of any prohibition.
With thee have I broken up whatever my heart
revered; all boundary-stones and statues have I
o'erthrown; the most dangerous wishes did I
pursue,—verily, beyond every crime did I once go.
With thee did I unlearn the belief in words and
worths and in great names. When the devil
casteth his skin, doth not his name also fall away?
It is also skin. The devil himself is perhaps—skin.
'Nothing is true, all is permitted': so said I to
myself. Into the coldest water did I plunge with
head and heart. Ah, how oft did I stand there
naked on that account, like a red crab!
Ah, where have gone all my goodness and all my
shame and all my belief in the good! Ah, where
is the lying innocence which I once possessed, the
innocence of the good and of their noble lies!
Too oft, verily, did I follow close to the heels of
truth: then did it kick me on the face. Some-
times I meant to lie, and behold! then only did
I hit—the truth.
Too much hath become clear unto me: now it
doth not concern me any more. Nothing liveth
## p. 335 (#511) ############################################
LXIX. —THE SHADOW. 335
any longer that I love,—how should I still love
myself?
'To live as I incline, or not to live at all': so do
I wish; so wisheth also the holiest. But alas!
how have / still—inclination?
Have /—still a goal? A haven towards which my
sail is set?
A good wind? Ah, he only who knoweth
whither he saileth, knoweth what wind is good, and
a fair wind for him.
What still remaineth to me? A heart weary and
flippant; an unstable will; fluttering wings; a
broken backbone.
This seeking for my home: O Zarathustra, dost
thou know that this seeking hath been my home-
sickening; it eateth me up.
'Where is—my home? ' For it do I ask and
seek, and have sought, but have not found it. O
eternal everywhere, O eternal nowhere, O eternal
—in-vain! "
Thus spake the shadow, and Zarathustra's coun-
tenance lengthened at his words. "Thou art my
shadow ! " said he at last sadly.
"Thy danger is not small, thou free spirit and
wanderer! Thou hast had a bad day: see that a
still worse evening doth not overtake thee!
To such unsettled ones as thou, seemeth at last
even a prisoner blessed. Didst thou ever see how
captured criminals sleep? They sleep quietly, they
enjoy their new security.
Beware lest in the end a narrow faith capture
thee, a hard, rigorous delusion! For now every-
## p. 335 (#512) ############################################
334 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, IV.
After thee, however, O Zarathustra, did I fly and
hie longest; and though I hid myself from thee,
I was nevertheless thy best shadow: wherever thou
hast sat, there sat I also.
With thee have I wandered about in the re-
motest, coldest worlds, like a phantom that
voluntarily haunteth winter roofs and snows.
With thee have I pushed into all the forbidden,
all the worst and the furthest: and if there be any-
thing of virtue in me, it is that I have had no fear
of any prohibition.
With thee have I broken up whatever my heart
revered; all boundary-stones and statues have I
o'erthrown; the most dangerous wishes did I
pursue,—verily, beyond every crime did I once go.
With thee did I unlearn the belief in words and
worths and in great names. When the devil
casteth his skin, doth not his name also fall away?
It is also skin. The devil himself is perhaps—skin.
'Nothing is true, all is permitted': so said I to
myself. Into the coldest water did I plunge with
head and heart. Ah, how oft did I stand there
naked on that account, like a red crab!
Ah, where have gone all my goodness and all my
shame and all my belief in the good! Ah, where
is the lying innocence which I once possessed, the
innocence of the good and of their noble lies!
Too oft, verily, did I follow close to the heels of
truth: then did it kick me on the face.
thou art not a butcher.
Rather seemest thou to me a plant-eater and a
root-man. Perhaps thou grindest corn. Certainly,
## p. 331 (#495) ############################################
LXVIII. —THE VOLUNTARY BEGGAR. 33 T
however, thou art averse to fleshly joys, and thou
lovest honey. "
"Thou hast divined me well," answered the
voluntary beggar, with lightened heart. "I love
honey, I also grind corn; for I have sought out
what tasteth sweetly and maketh pure breath:
—Also what requireth a long time, a day's-work
and a mouth's-work for gentle idlers and sluggards.
Furthest, to be sure, have those kine carried it:
they have devised ruminating and lying in the sun.
They also abstain from all heavy thoughts which
inflate the heart. "
—" Well! " said Zarathustra, " thou shouldst also
see mine animals, mine eagle and my serpent,—
their like do not at present exist on earth.
Behold, thither leadeth the way to my cave: be
to-night its guest. And talk to mine animals of the
happiness of animals,—
—Until I myself come home. For now a cry of
distress calleth me hastily away from thee. Also,
shouldst thou find new honey with me, ice-cold,
golden-comb-honey, eat it!
Now, however, take leave at once of thy kine, thou
strange one! thou amiable one! though it be hard
for thee. For they are thy warmest friends and
preceptors! "—
—" One excepted, whom I hold still dearer,"
answered the voluntary beggar. "Thou thyself art
good, O Zarathustra, and better even than a cow! "
"Away, away with thee! thou evil flatterer! "
cried Zarathustra mischievously, "why dost thou
spoil me with such praise and flattery-honey? "
"Away, away from me! " cried he once more,
## p. 332 (#496) ############################################
332
THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, IV.
and heaved his stick at the fond beggar, who, how-
ever, ran nimbly away.
LXIX. —THE SHADOW.
Scarcely however was the voluntary beggar gone
in haste, and Zarathustra again alone, when he
heard behind him a new voice which called out:
“Stay! Zarathustra! Do wait! It is myself, for-
sooth, O Zarathustra, myself, thy shadow ! ” But
Zarathustra did not wait; for a sudden irritation
came over him on account of the crowd and the
crowding in his mountains. “Whither hath my
lonesomeness gone? " spake he.
" It is verily becoming too much for me; these
mountains swarm; my kingdom is no longer of
this world; I require new mountains.
My shadow calleth me? What matter about
my shadow! Let it run after me! 1-run away
from it. "
Thus spake Zarathustra to his heart and ran
away. But the one behind followed after him, so
that immediately there were three runners, one
after the other—namely, foremost the voluntary
beggar, then Zarathustra, and thirdly, and hind-
most, his shadow. But not long had they run thus
when Zarathustra became conscious of his folly,
and shook off with one jerk all his irritation and
detestation.
“What! ” said he, “have not the most ludicrous
things always happened to us old anchorites and
saints ?
Verily, my folly hath grown big in the moun-
## p. 333 (#497) ############################################
LXIX. —THE SHADOW. 333
tains! Now do I hear six old fools' legs rattling
behind one another!
But doth Zarathustra need to be frightened by
his shadow? Also, methinketh that after all it
hath longer legs than mine. "
Thus spake Zarathustra, and, laughing with eyes
and entrails, he stood still and turned round
quickly—and behold, he almost thereby threw his
shadow and follower to the ground, so closely had
the latter followed at his heels, and so weak was
he. For when Zarathustra scrutinised him with
his glance he was frightened as by a sudden
apparition, so slender, swarthy, hollow and worn-
out did this follower appear.
"Who art thou ? " asked Zarathustra vehemently,
"what doest thou here? And why callest thou
thyself my shadow? Thou art not pleasing unto
me.
"Forgive me," answered the shadow, " that it is
I ; and if I please thee not—well, O Zarathustra!
therein do I admire thee and thy good taste.
A wanderer am I, who have walked long at thy
heels; always on the way, but without a goal, also
without a home : so that verily, I lack little of being
the eternally Wandering Jew, except that I am not
eternal and not a Jew.
What? Must I ever be on the way? Whirled
by every wind, unsettled, driven about? O earth,
thou hast become too round for me!
On every surface have I already sat, like tired
dust have I fallen asleep on mirrors and window-
panes: everything taketh from me, nothing giveth;
I become thin—I am almost equal to a shadow.
## p. 334 (#498) ############################################
334 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, IV.
After thee, however, O Zarathustra, did I fly and
hie longest; and though I hid myself from thee,
I was nevertheless thy best shadow: wherever thou
hast sat, there sat I also.
With thee have I wandered about in the re-
motest, coldest worlds, like a phantom that
voluntarily haunteth winter roofs and snows.
With thee have I pushed into all the forbidden,
all the worst and the furthest: and if there be any-
thing of virtue in me, it is that I have had no fear
of any prohibition.
With thee have I broken up whatever my heart
revered; all boundary-stones and statues have I
o'erthrown; the most dangerous wishes did I
pursue,—verily, beyond every crime did I once go.
With thee did I unlearn the belief in words and
worths and in great names. When the devil
casteth his skin, doth not his name also fall away?
It is also skin. The devil himself is perhaps—skin.
'Nothing is true, all is permitted': so said I to
myself. Into the coldest water did I plunge with
head and heart. Ah, how oft did I stand there
naked on that account, like a red crab!
Ah, where have gone all my goodness and all my
shame and all my belief in the good! Ah, where
is the lying innocence which I once possessed, the
innocence of the good and of their noble lies!
Too oft, verily, did I follow close to the heels of
truth: then did it kick me on the face. Some-
times I meant to lie, and behold! then only did
I hit—the truth.
Too much hath become clear unto me: now it
doth not concern me any more. Nothing liveth
## p. 335 (#499) ############################################
LXIX. —THE SHADOW. 335
any longer that I love,—how should I still love
myself?
'To live as I incline, or not to live at all': so do
I wish; so wisheth also the holiest. But alas!
how have / still—inclination?
Have /—still a goal? A haven towards which my
sail is set?
A good wind? Ah, he only who knoweth
whither he saileth, knoweth what wind is good, and
a fair wind for him.
What still remaineth to me? A heart weary and
flippant; an unstable will; fluttering wings; a
broken backbone.
This seeking for my home: O Zarathustra, dost
thou know that this seeking hath been my home-
sickening; it eateth me up.
'Where is—my home? ' For it do I ask and
seek, and have sought, but have not found it. O
eternal everywhere, O eternal nowhere, O eternal
—in-vain! "
Thus spake the shadow, and Zarathustra's coun-
tenance lengthened at his words. "Thou art my
shadow ! " said he at last sadly.
"Thy danger is not small, thou free spirit and
wanderer! Thou hast had a bad day: see that a
still worse evening doth not overtake thee!
To such unsettled ones as thou, seemeth at last
even a prisoner blessed. Didst thou ever see how
captured criminals sleep? They sleep quietly, they
enjoy their new security.
Beware lest in the end a narrow faith capture
thee, a hard, rigorous delusion! For now every-
## p. 335 (#500) ############################################
334 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, IV.
After thee, however, O Zarathustra, did I fly and
hie longest; and though I hid myself from thee,
I was nevertheless thy best shadow: wherever thou
hast sat, there sat I also.
With thee have I wandered about in the re-
motest, coldest worlds, like a phantom that
voluntarily haunteth winter roofs and snows.
With thee have I pushed into all the forbidden,
all the worst and the furthest: and if there be any-
thing of virtue in me, it is that I have had no fear
of any prohibition.
With thee have I broken up whatever my heart
revered; all boundary-stones and statues have I
o'erthrown; the most dangerous wishes did I
pursue,—verily, beyond every crime did I once go.
With thee did I unlearn the belief in words and
worths and in great names. When the devil
casteth his skin, doth not his name also fall away?
It is also skin. The devil himself is perhaps—skin.
'Nothing is true, all is permitted': so said I to
myself. Into the coldest water did I plunge with
head and heart. Ah, how oft did I stand there
naked on that account, like a red crab!
Ah, where have gone all my goodness and all my
shame and all my belief in the good! Ah, where
is the lying innocence which I once possessed, the
innocence of the good and of their noble lies!
Too oft, verily, did I follow close to the heels of
truth: then did it kick me on the face. Some-
times I meant to lie, and behold! then only did
I hit—the truth.
Too much hath become clear unto me: now it
doth not concern me any more. Nothing liveth
## p. 335 (#501) ############################################
LXIX. —THE SHADOW. 335
any longer that I love,—how should I still love
myself?
'To live as I incline, or not to live at all': so do
I wish; so wisheth also the holiest. But alas!
how have / still—inclination?
Have /—still a goal? A haven towards which my
sail is set?
A good wind? Ah, he only who knoweth
whither he saileth, knoweth what wind is good, and
a fair wind for him.
What still remaineth to me? A heart weary and
flippant; an unstable will; fluttering wings; a
broken backbone.
This seeking for my home: O Zarathustra, dost
thou know that this seeking hath been my home-
sickening; it eateth me up.
'Where is—my home? ' For it do I ask and
seek, and have sought, but have not found it. O
eternal everywhere, O eternal nowhere, O eternal
—in-vain! "
Thus spake the shadow, and Zarathustra's coun-
tenance lengthened at his words. "Thou art my
shadow ! " said he at last sadly.
"Thy danger is not small, thou free spirit and
wanderer! Thou hast had a bad day: see that a
still worse evening doth not overtake thee!
To such unsettled ones as thou, seemeth at last
even a prisoner blessed. Didst thou ever see how
captured criminals sleep? They sleep quietly, they
enjoy their new security.
Beware lest in the end a narrow faith capture
thee, a hard, rigorous delusion! For now every-
## p. 335 (#502) ############################################
334 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, IV.
After thee, however, O Zarathustra, did I fly and
hie longest; and though I hid myself from thee,
I was nevertheless thy best shadow: wherever thou
hast sat, there sat I also.
With thee have I wandered about in the re-
motest, coldest worlds, like a phantom that
voluntarily haunteth winter roofs and snows.
With thee have I pushed into all the forbidden,
all the worst and the furthest: and if there be any-
thing of virtue in me, it is that I have had no fear
of any prohibition.
With thee have I broken up whatever my heart
revered; all boundary-stones and statues have I
o'erthrown; the most dangerous wishes did I
pursue,—verily, beyond every crime did I once go.
With thee did I unlearn the belief in words and
worths and in great names. When the devil
casteth his skin, doth not his name also fall away?
It is also skin. The devil himself is perhaps—skin.
'Nothing is true, all is permitted': so said I to
myself. Into the coldest water did I plunge with
head and heart. Ah, how oft did I stand there
naked on that account, like a red crab!
Ah, where have gone all my goodness and all my
shame and all my belief in the good! Ah, where
is the lying innocence which I once possessed, the
innocence of the good and of their noble lies!
Too oft, verily, did I follow close to the heels of
truth: then did it kick me on the face. Some-
times I meant to lie, and behold! then only did
I hit—the truth.
Too much hath become clear unto me: now it
doth not concern me any more. Nothing liveth
## p. 335 (#503) ############################################
LXIX. —THE SHADOW. 335
any longer that I love,—how should I still love
myself?
'To live as I incline, or not to live at all': so do
I wish; so wisheth also the holiest. But alas!
how have / still—inclination?
Have /—still a goal? A haven towards which my
sail is set?
A good wind? Ah, he only who knoweth
whither he saileth, knoweth what wind is good, and
a fair wind for him.
What still remaineth to me? A heart weary and
flippant; an unstable will; fluttering wings; a
broken backbone.
This seeking for my home: O Zarathustra, dost
thou know that this seeking hath been my home-
sickening; it eateth me up.
'Where is—my home? ' For it do I ask and
seek, and have sought, but have not found it. O
eternal everywhere, O eternal nowhere, O eternal
—in-vain! "
Thus spake the shadow, and Zarathustra's coun-
tenance lengthened at his words. "Thou art my
shadow ! " said he at last sadly.
"Thy danger is not small, thou free spirit and
wanderer!
Thou hast had a bad day: see that a
still worse evening doth not overtake thee!
To such unsettled ones as thou, seemeth at last
even a prisoner blessed. Didst thou ever see how
captured criminals sleep? They sleep quietly, they
enjoy their new security.
Beware lest in the end a narrow faith capture
thee, a hard, rigorous delusion! For now every-
## p. 335 (#504) ############################################
334 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, IV.
After thee, however, O Zarathustra, did I fly and
hie longest; and though I hid myself from thee,
I was nevertheless thy best shadow: wherever thou
hast sat, there sat I also.
With thee have I wandered about in the re-
motest, coldest worlds, like a phantom that
voluntarily haunteth winter roofs and snows.
With thee have I pushed into all the forbidden,
all the worst and the furthest: and if there be any-
thing of virtue in me, it is that I have had no fear
of any prohibition.
With thee have I broken up whatever my heart
revered; all boundary-stones and statues have I
o'erthrown; the most dangerous wishes did I
pursue,—verily, beyond every crime did I once go.
With thee did I unlearn the belief in words and
worths and in great names. When the devil
casteth his skin, doth not his name also fall away?
It is also skin. The devil himself is perhaps—skin.
'Nothing is true, all is permitted': so said I to
myself. Into the coldest water did I plunge with
head and heart. Ah, how oft did I stand there
naked on that account, like a red crab!
Ah, where have gone all my goodness and all my
shame and all my belief in the good! Ah, where
is the lying innocence which I once possessed, the
innocence of the good and of their noble lies!
Too oft, verily, did I follow close to the heels of
truth: then did it kick me on the face. Some-
times I meant to lie, and behold! then only did
I hit—the truth.
Too much hath become clear unto me: now it
doth not concern me any more. Nothing liveth
## p. 335 (#505) ############################################
LXIX. —THE SHADOW. 335
any longer that I love,—how should I still love
myself?
'To live as I incline, or not to live at all': so do
I wish; so wisheth also the holiest. But alas!
how have / still—inclination?
Have /—still a goal? A haven towards which my
sail is set?
A good wind? Ah, he only who knoweth
whither he saileth, knoweth what wind is good, and
a fair wind for him.
What still remaineth to me? A heart weary and
flippant; an unstable will; fluttering wings; a
broken backbone.
This seeking for my home: O Zarathustra, dost
thou know that this seeking hath been my home-
sickening; it eateth me up.
'Where is—my home? ' For it do I ask and
seek, and have sought, but have not found it. O
eternal everywhere, O eternal nowhere, O eternal
—in-vain! "
Thus spake the shadow, and Zarathustra's coun-
tenance lengthened at his words. "Thou art my
shadow ! " said he at last sadly.
"Thy danger is not small, thou free spirit and
wanderer! Thou hast had a bad day: see that a
still worse evening doth not overtake thee!
To such unsettled ones as thou, seemeth at last
even a prisoner blessed. Didst thou ever see how
captured criminals sleep? They sleep quietly, they
enjoy their new security.
Beware lest in the end a narrow faith capture
thee, a hard, rigorous delusion! For now every-
## p. 335 (#506) ############################################
334 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, IV.
After thee, however, O Zarathustra, did I fly and
hie longest; and though I hid myself from thee,
I was nevertheless thy best shadow: wherever thou
hast sat, there sat I also.
With thee have I wandered about in the re-
motest, coldest worlds, like a phantom that
voluntarily haunteth winter roofs and snows.
With thee have I pushed into all the forbidden,
all the worst and the furthest: and if there be any-
thing of virtue in me, it is that I have had no fear
of any prohibition.
With thee have I broken up whatever my heart
revered; all boundary-stones and statues have I
o'erthrown; the most dangerous wishes did I
pursue,—verily, beyond every crime did I once go.
With thee did I unlearn the belief in words and
worths and in great names. When the devil
casteth his skin, doth not his name also fall away?
It is also skin. The devil himself is perhaps—skin.
'Nothing is true, all is permitted': so said I to
myself. Into the coldest water did I plunge with
head and heart. Ah, how oft did I stand there
naked on that account, like a red crab!
Ah, where have gone all my goodness and all my
shame and all my belief in the good! Ah, where
is the lying innocence which I once possessed, the
innocence of the good and of their noble lies!
Too oft, verily, did I follow close to the heels of
truth: then did it kick me on the face. Some-
times I meant to lie, and behold! then only did
I hit—the truth.
Too much hath become clear unto me: now it
doth not concern me any more. Nothing liveth
## p. 335 (#507) ############################################
LXIX. —THE SHADOW. 335
any longer that I love,—how should I still love
myself?
'To live as I incline, or not to live at all': so do
I wish; so wisheth also the holiest. But alas!
how have / still—inclination?
Have /—still a goal? A haven towards which my
sail is set?
A good wind? Ah, he only who knoweth
whither he saileth, knoweth what wind is good, and
a fair wind for him.
What still remaineth to me? A heart weary and
flippant; an unstable will; fluttering wings; a
broken backbone.
This seeking for my home: O Zarathustra, dost
thou know that this seeking hath been my home-
sickening; it eateth me up.
'Where is—my home? ' For it do I ask and
seek, and have sought, but have not found it. O
eternal everywhere, O eternal nowhere, O eternal
—in-vain! "
Thus spake the shadow, and Zarathustra's coun-
tenance lengthened at his words. "Thou art my
shadow ! " said he at last sadly.
"Thy danger is not small, thou free spirit and
wanderer! Thou hast had a bad day: see that a
still worse evening doth not overtake thee!
To such unsettled ones as thou, seemeth at last
even a prisoner blessed. Didst thou ever see how
captured criminals sleep? They sleep quietly, they
enjoy their new security.
Beware lest in the end a narrow faith capture
thee, a hard, rigorous delusion! For now every-
## p. 335 (#508) ############################################
334 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, IV.
After thee, however, O Zarathustra, did I fly and
hie longest; and though I hid myself from thee,
I was nevertheless thy best shadow: wherever thou
hast sat, there sat I also.
With thee have I wandered about in the re-
motest, coldest worlds, like a phantom that
voluntarily haunteth winter roofs and snows.
With thee have I pushed into all the forbidden,
all the worst and the furthest: and if there be any-
thing of virtue in me, it is that I have had no fear
of any prohibition.
With thee have I broken up whatever my heart
revered; all boundary-stones and statues have I
o'erthrown; the most dangerous wishes did I
pursue,—verily, beyond every crime did I once go.
With thee did I unlearn the belief in words and
worths and in great names. When the devil
casteth his skin, doth not his name also fall away?
It is also skin. The devil himself is perhaps—skin.
'Nothing is true, all is permitted': so said I to
myself. Into the coldest water did I plunge with
head and heart. Ah, how oft did I stand there
naked on that account, like a red crab!
Ah, where have gone all my goodness and all my
shame and all my belief in the good! Ah, where
is the lying innocence which I once possessed, the
innocence of the good and of their noble lies!
Too oft, verily, did I follow close to the heels of
truth: then did it kick me on the face. Some-
times I meant to lie, and behold! then only did
I hit—the truth.
Too much hath become clear unto me: now it
doth not concern me any more. Nothing liveth
## p. 335 (#509) ############################################
LXIX. —THE SHADOW. 335
any longer that I love,—how should I still love
myself?
'To live as I incline, or not to live at all': so do
I wish; so wisheth also the holiest. But alas!
how have / still—inclination?
Have /—still a goal? A haven towards which my
sail is set?
A good wind? Ah, he only who knoweth
whither he saileth, knoweth what wind is good, and
a fair wind for him.
What still remaineth to me? A heart weary and
flippant; an unstable will; fluttering wings; a
broken backbone.
This seeking for my home: O Zarathustra, dost
thou know that this seeking hath been my home-
sickening; it eateth me up.
'Where is—my home? ' For it do I ask and
seek, and have sought, but have not found it. O
eternal everywhere, O eternal nowhere, O eternal
—in-vain! "
Thus spake the shadow, and Zarathustra's coun-
tenance lengthened at his words. "Thou art my
shadow ! " said he at last sadly.
"Thy danger is not small, thou free spirit and
wanderer! Thou hast had a bad day: see that a
still worse evening doth not overtake thee!
To such unsettled ones as thou, seemeth at last
even a prisoner blessed. Didst thou ever see how
captured criminals sleep? They sleep quietly, they
enjoy their new security.
Beware lest in the end a narrow faith capture
thee, a hard, rigorous delusion! For now every-
## p. 335 (#510) ############################################
334 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, IV.
After thee, however, O Zarathustra, did I fly and
hie longest; and though I hid myself from thee,
I was nevertheless thy best shadow: wherever thou
hast sat, there sat I also.
With thee have I wandered about in the re-
motest, coldest worlds, like a phantom that
voluntarily haunteth winter roofs and snows.
With thee have I pushed into all the forbidden,
all the worst and the furthest: and if there be any-
thing of virtue in me, it is that I have had no fear
of any prohibition.
With thee have I broken up whatever my heart
revered; all boundary-stones and statues have I
o'erthrown; the most dangerous wishes did I
pursue,—verily, beyond every crime did I once go.
With thee did I unlearn the belief in words and
worths and in great names. When the devil
casteth his skin, doth not his name also fall away?
It is also skin. The devil himself is perhaps—skin.
'Nothing is true, all is permitted': so said I to
myself. Into the coldest water did I plunge with
head and heart. Ah, how oft did I stand there
naked on that account, like a red crab!
Ah, where have gone all my goodness and all my
shame and all my belief in the good! Ah, where
is the lying innocence which I once possessed, the
innocence of the good and of their noble lies!
Too oft, verily, did I follow close to the heels of
truth: then did it kick me on the face. Some-
times I meant to lie, and behold! then only did
I hit—the truth.
Too much hath become clear unto me: now it
doth not concern me any more. Nothing liveth
## p. 335 (#511) ############################################
LXIX. —THE SHADOW. 335
any longer that I love,—how should I still love
myself?
'To live as I incline, or not to live at all': so do
I wish; so wisheth also the holiest. But alas!
how have / still—inclination?
Have /—still a goal? A haven towards which my
sail is set?
A good wind? Ah, he only who knoweth
whither he saileth, knoweth what wind is good, and
a fair wind for him.
What still remaineth to me? A heart weary and
flippant; an unstable will; fluttering wings; a
broken backbone.
This seeking for my home: O Zarathustra, dost
thou know that this seeking hath been my home-
sickening; it eateth me up.
'Where is—my home? ' For it do I ask and
seek, and have sought, but have not found it. O
eternal everywhere, O eternal nowhere, O eternal
—in-vain! "
Thus spake the shadow, and Zarathustra's coun-
tenance lengthened at his words. "Thou art my
shadow ! " said he at last sadly.
"Thy danger is not small, thou free spirit and
wanderer! Thou hast had a bad day: see that a
still worse evening doth not overtake thee!
To such unsettled ones as thou, seemeth at last
even a prisoner blessed. Didst thou ever see how
captured criminals sleep? They sleep quietly, they
enjoy their new security.
Beware lest in the end a narrow faith capture
thee, a hard, rigorous delusion! For now every-
## p. 335 (#512) ############################################
334 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, IV.
After thee, however, O Zarathustra, did I fly and
hie longest; and though I hid myself from thee,
I was nevertheless thy best shadow: wherever thou
hast sat, there sat I also.
With thee have I wandered about in the re-
motest, coldest worlds, like a phantom that
voluntarily haunteth winter roofs and snows.
With thee have I pushed into all the forbidden,
all the worst and the furthest: and if there be any-
thing of virtue in me, it is that I have had no fear
of any prohibition.
With thee have I broken up whatever my heart
revered; all boundary-stones and statues have I
o'erthrown; the most dangerous wishes did I
pursue,—verily, beyond every crime did I once go.
With thee did I unlearn the belief in words and
worths and in great names. When the devil
casteth his skin, doth not his name also fall away?
It is also skin. The devil himself is perhaps—skin.
'Nothing is true, all is permitted': so said I to
myself. Into the coldest water did I plunge with
head and heart. Ah, how oft did I stand there
naked on that account, like a red crab!
Ah, where have gone all my goodness and all my
shame and all my belief in the good! Ah, where
is the lying innocence which I once possessed, the
innocence of the good and of their noble lies!
Too oft, verily, did I follow close to the heels of
truth: then did it kick me on the face.
