No More Learning

O my brethren, into the hearts of the good and
just looked some one once on a time, who said:
"They are the Pharisees. " But people did not
understand him.
The good and just themselves were not free to
understand him; their spirit was imprisoned in


## p. 260 (#376) ############################################

2f5o THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, III.
their good conscience. The stupidity of the good
is unfathomably wise.
It is the truth, however, that the good must be
Pharisees—they have no choice!
The good must crucify him who deviseth his own
virtue! That is the truth!
The second one, however, who discovered their
country—the country, heart and soil of the good
and just,—it was he who asked: "Whom do they
hate most? "
The creator, hate they most, him who breaketh
the tables and old values, the breaker,—him they
call the law-breaker.
For the good—they cannot create; they are
always the beginning of the end :—
—They crucify him who writeth new values on
new tables, they sacrifice unto themselves the future
—they crucify the whole human future!
The good—they have always been the beginning
of the end. —
27.
O my brethren, have ye also understood this
word? And what I once said of the "last
man "?
With whom lieth the greatest danger to the whole
human future? Is it not with the good and just?
Break up, break up, I pray you, the good andjust!
—O my brethren, have ye understood also this
word?
28.
Ye flee from me? Yc are frightened? Ye
tremble at this word?


## p. 261 (#377) ############################################

LVI. —OLD AND NEW TABLES. 261
O my brethren, when I enjoined on you to break
up the good, and the tables of the good, then only
did I embark man on his high seas.
And now only cometh unto him the great terror,
the great outlook, the great sickness, the great
nausea, the great sea-sickness.
False shores and false securities did the good
teach you; in the lies of the good were ye born
and bred. Everything hath been radically contorted
and distorted by the good.
But he who discovered the country of "man,"
discovered also the country of" man's future. " Now
shall ye be sailors for me, brave, patient!
Keep yourselves up betimes, my brethren, learn
to keep yourselves up! The sea stormeth: many
seek to raise themselves again by you.
The sea stormeth: all is in the sea. Well!
Cheer up! Ye old seaman-hearts!
What of fatherland! Thither striveth our helm
where our children's land is! Thitherwards, stormier
than the sea, stormeth our great longing! —
29.
"Why so hard ! "—said to the diamond one day
the charcoal; "are we then not near relatives ? "—
Why so soft? O my brethren; thus do / ask
you: are ye then not—my brethren?
Why so soft, so submissive and yielding? Why
is there so much negation and abnegation in your
hearts? Why is there so little fate in your looks?
And if ye will not be fates and inexorable ones,
how can ye one day—conquer with me?
And if your hardness will not glance and cut


## p. 262 (#378) ############################################

262
THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, III.
and chip to pieces, how can ye one day--create
with me?
For the creators are hard. And blessedness
must it seem to you to press your hand upon
millenniums as upon wax,-
-Blessedness to write upon the will of millen-
niums as upon brass,—harder than brass, nobler
than brass. Entirely hard is only the noblest.
This new table, O my brethren, put I up over
you : Become hard ! -
30.
O thou, my Will! Thou change of every need,
my needfulness ! Preserve me from all small
victories !
Thou fatedness of my soul, which I call fate!
Thou In-me! Over-me! Preserve and spare me
for one great fate!
And thy last greatness, my Will, spare it for thy
last-that thou mayest be inexorable in thy victory!
Ah, who hath not succumbed to his victory!
Ah, whose eye hath not bedimmed in this intoxi-
cated twilight! Ah, whose foot hath not faltered
and forgotten in victory—how to stand !
- That I may one day be ready and ripe in the
great noontide : ready and ripe like the glowing
ore, the lightning-bearing cloud, and the swelling
milk-udder :-
-Ready for myself and for my most hidden
Will: a bow eager for its arrow, an arrow eager for
its star :-
-A star, ready and ripe in its noontide, glowing,
pierced, blessed, by annihilating sun-arrows :-


## p. 263 (#379) ############################################

LVI. —OLD AND NEW TABLES. 263
—A sun itself, and an inexorable sun-will-, ready
for annihilation in victory!
O Will, thou change of every need, my needful-
ness! Spare me for one great victory!
Thus spake Zarathustra.
LVI I. —THE CONVALESCENT.
1.
One morning, not long after his return to his
cave, Zarathustra sprang up from his couch like a
madman, crying with a frightful voice, and acting
as if some one still lay on the couch who did not
wish to rise. Zarathustra's voice also resounded
in such a manner that his animals came to him
frightened, and out of all the neighbouring caves
and lurking-places all the creatures slipped away—
flying, fluttering, creeping or leaping, according to
their variety of foot or wing. Zarathustra, however,
spake these words:
Up, abysmal thought out of my depth! I am
thy cock and morning dawn, thou overslept reptile:
Up! Up! My voice shall soon crow thee awake!
Unbind the fetters of thine ears: listen! For I
wish to hear thee! Up! Up! There is thunder
enough to make the very graves listen!
And rub the sleep and all the dimness and blind-
ness out of thine eyes! Hear me also with thine
eyes: my voice is a medicine even for those born
blind.
And once thou art awake, then shalt thou ever


## p. 264 (#380) ############################################

264
THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, III.
remain awake. It is not my custom to awake great-
grandmothers out of their sleep that I may bid
them sleep on!
Thou stirrest, stretchest thyself, wheezest? Up!
Up! Not wheeze, shalt thou,—but speak unto me!
Zarathustra calleth thee, Zarathustra the godless !
I, Zarathustra, the advocate of living, the advocate
of suffering, the advocate of the circuit—thee do I
call, my most abysmal thought!
Joy to me! Thou comest,—I hear thee! Mine
abyss speaketh, my lowest depth have I turned over
into the light!
Joy to me! Come hither! Give me thy hand-
-ha! let be! aha ! - -Disgust, disgust, disgust-
-~alas to me!
Hardly, however, had Zarathustra spoken these
words, when he fell down as one dead, and re-
mained long as one dead. When however he again
came to himself, then was he pale and trembling,
and remained lying ; and for long he would neither
eat nor drink. This condition continued for seven
days; his animals, however, did not leave him day
nor night, except that the eagle flew forth to fetch
food. And what it fetched and foraged, it laid on
Zarathustra's couch : so that Zarathustra at last lay
among yellow and red berries, grapes, rosy apples,
sweet-smelling herbage, and pine-cones. At his
feet, however, two lambs were stretched, which the
eagle had with difficulty carried off from their
shepherds.
At last, after seven days, Zarathustra raised him-


## p. 265 (#381) ############################################

LVII. —THE CONVALESCENT. 265
self upon his couch, took a rosy apple in his hand,
smelt it and found its smell pleasant. Then did his
animals think the time had come to speak unto him.
"O Zarathustra," said they, " now hast thou lain
thus for seven days with heavy eyes: wilt thou not
set thyself again upon thy feet?
Step out of thy cave: the world waiteth for thee
as a garden. The wind playeth with heavy fragrance
which seeketh for thee; and all brooks would like
to run after thee.
All things long for thee, since thou hast remained
alone for seven days—step forth out of thy cave!
All things want to be thy physicians!
Did perhaps a new knowledge come to thee, a
bitter, grievous knowledge? Like leavened dough
layest thou, thy soul arose and swelled beyond all
its bounds. —"
—O mine animals, answered Zarathustra, talk on
thus and let me listen! It refresheth me so to hear
your talk: where there is talk, there is the world as
a garden unto me.
How charming it is that there are words and
tones; are not words and tones rainbows and
seeming bridges 'twixt the eternally separated?
To each soul belongeth another world; to each
soul is every other soul a back-world.
Among the most alike doth semblance deceive
most delightfully: for the smallest gap is most
difficult to bridge over.
For me—how could there be an outside-of-me?
There is no outside! But this we forget on hearing
tones; how delightful it is that we forget!


## p. 265 (#382) ############################################

264 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, III.
remain awake. It is not my custom to awake great-
grandmothers out of their sleep that I may bid
them—sleep on!
Thou stirrest, stretchest thyself, wheezest? Up!
Up! Not wheeze, shalt thou,—but speak unto me!
Zarathustra calleth thee, Zarathustra the godless!
I, Zarathustra, the advocate of living, the advocate
of suffering, the advocate of the circuit—thee do I
call, my most abysmal thought!
Joy to me! Thou comest,—I hear thee! Mine
abyss speaketh, my lowest depth have I turned over
into the light!
Joy to me! Come hither! Give me thy hand—
—ha! let be! aha! Disgust, disgust, disgust—
alas to me!
Hardly, however, had Zarathustra spoken these
words, when he fell down as one dead, and re-
mained long as one dead. When however he again
came to himself, then was he pale and trembling,
and remained lying; and for long he would neither
eat nor drink. This condition continued for seven
days; his animals, however, did not leave him day
nor night, except that the eagle flew forth to fetch
food. And what it fetched and foraged, it laid on
Zarathustra's couch: so that Zarathustra at last lay
among yellow and red berries, grapes, rosy apples,
sweet-smelling herbage, and pine-cones. At his
feet, however, two lambs were stretched, which the
eagle had with difficulty carried off from their
shepherds.
At last, after seven days, Zarathustra raised him-
^
n


## p. 265 (#383) ############################################

LVII— THE CONVALESCENT. 265
self upon his couch, took a rosy apple in his hand,
smelt it and found its smell pleasant. Then did his
animals think the time had come to speak unto him.
"O Zarathustra," said they, "now hast thou lain
thus for seven days with heavy eyes: wilt thou not
set thyself again upon thy feet?
Step out of thy cave: the world waiteth for thee
as a garden. The wind playeth with heavy fragrance
which seeketh for thee; and all brooks would like
to run after thee.
All things long for thee, since thou hast remained
alone for seven days—step forth out of thy cave!
All things want to be thy physicians!
Did perhaps a new knowledge come to thee, a
bitter, grievous knowledge? Like leavened dough
layest thou, thy soul arose and swelled beyond all
its bounds. —"
—O mine animals, answered Zarathustra, talk on
thus and let me listen! It refresheth me so to hear
your talk: where there is talk, there is the world as
a garden unto me.
How charming it is that there are words and
tones; are not words and tones rainbows and
seeming bridges 'twixt the eternally separated?
To each soul belongeth another world; to each
soul is every other soul a back-world.
Among the most alike doth semblance deceive
most delightfully: for the smallest gap is most
difficult to bridge over.
For me—how could there be an outside-of-me?
There is no outside! But this we forget on hearing
tones; how delightful it is that we forget!


## p. 265 (#384) ############################################

264 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, III.
remain awake. It is not my custom to awake great-
grandmothers out of their sleep that I may bid
them—sleep on!
Thou stirrest, stretchest thyself, wheezest? Up!
Up! Not wheeze, shalt thou,—but speak unto me!
Zarathustra calleth thee, Zarathustra the godless!
I, Zarathustra, the advocate of living, the advocate
of suffering, the advocate of the circuit—thee do I
call, my most abysmal thought!
Joy to me! Thou comest,—I hear thee! Mine
abyss speaketh, my lowest depth have I turned over
into the light!
Joy to me! Come hither! Give me thy hand—
—ha! let be! aha! Disgust, disgust, disgust—
alas to me!
2.
Hardly, however, had Zarathustra spoken these
words, when he fell down as one dead, and re-
mained long as one dead. When however he again
came to himself, then was he pale and trembling,
and remained lying; and for long he would neither
eat nor drink. This condition continued for seven
days; his animals, however, did not leave him day
nor night, except that the eagle flew forth to fetch
food. And what it fetched and foraged, it laid on
Zarathustra's couch: so that Zarathustra at last lay
among yellow and red berries, grapes, rosy apples,
sweet-smelling herbage, and pine-cones. At his
feet, however, two lambs were stretched, which the
eagle had with difficulty carried off from their
shepherds.
At last, after seven days, Zarathustra raised him-
^
^


## p. 265 (#385) ############################################

LVII. —THE CONVALESCENT. 265
self upon his couch, took a rosy apple in his hand,
smelt it and found its smell pleasant. Then did his
animals think the time had come to speak unto him.
"O Zarathustra," said they, " now hast thou lain
thus for seven days with heavy eyes: wilt thou not
set thyself again upon thy feet?
Step out of thy cave: the world waiteth for thee
as a garden. The wind playeth with heavy fragrance
which seeketh for thee; and all brooks would like
to run after thee.
All things long for thee, since thou hast remained
alone for seven days—step forth out of thy cave!
All things want to be thy physicians!
Did perhaps a new knowledge come to thee, a
bitter, grievous knowledge? Like leavened dough
layest thou, thy soul arose and swelled beyond all
its bounds. —"
—O mine animals, answered Zarathustra, talk on
thus and let me listen! It refresheth me so to hear
your talk: where there is talk, there is the world as
a garden unto me.
How charming it is that there are words and
tones; are not words and tones rainbows and
seeming bridges 'twixt the eternally separated?
To each soul belongeth another world; to each
soul is every other soul a back-world.
Among the most alike doth semblance deceive
most delightfully: for the smallest gap is most
difficult to bridge over.
For me—how could there be an outside-of-me?
There is no outside! But this we forget on hearing
tones; how delightful it is that we forget!


## p. 265 (#386) ############################################

264 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, III.
remain awake. It is not my custom to awake great-
grandmothers out of their sleep that I may bid
them—sleep on!
Thou stirrest, stretchest thyself, wheezest? Up!
Up! Not wheeze, shalt thou,—but speak unto me!
Zarathustra calleth thee, Zarathustra the godless!
I, Zarathustra, the advocate of living, the advocate
of suffering, the advocate of the circuit—thee do I
call, my most abysmal thought!
Joy to me! Thou comest,—I hear thee! Mine
abyss speaketh, my lowest depth have I turned over
into the light!
Joy to me! Come hither! Give me thy hand—
—ha! let be! aha! Disgust, disgust, disgust—
alas to me!
Hardly, however, had Zarathustra spoken these
words, when he fell down as one dead, and re-
mained long as one dead. When however he again
came to himself, then was he pale and trembling,
and remained lying; and for long he would neither
eat nor drink. This condition continued for seven
days; his animals, however, did not leave him day
nor night, except that the eagle flew forth to fetch
food. And what it fetched and foraged, it laid on
Zarathustra's couch: so that Zarathustra at last lay
among yellow and red berries, grapes, rosy apples,
sweet-smelling herbage, and pine-cones. At his
feet, however, two lambs were stretched, which the
eagle had with difficulty carried off from their
shepherds.
At last, after seven days, Zarathustra raised him-
^
^


## p. 265 (#387) ############################################

LVII. —THE CONVALESCENT.
265
self upon his couch, took a rosy apple in his hand,
smelt it and found its smell pleasant. Then did his
animals think the time had come to speak unto him.
"O Zarathustra," said they, “now hast thou lain
thus for seven days with heavy eyes : wilt thou not
set thyself again upon thy feet?
Step out of thy cave: the world waiteth for thee
as a garden. The wind playeth with heavy fragrance
which seeketh for thee; and all brooks would like
to run after thee.
All things long for thee, since thou hast remained
alone for seven days—step forth out of thy cave!
All things want to be thy physicians !
Did perhaps a new knowledge come to thee, a
bitter, grievous knowledge? Like leavened dough
layest thou, thy soul arose and swelled beyond all
its bounds. "
-O mine animals, answered Zarathustra, talk on
thus and let me listen! It refresheth me so to hear
your talk : where there is talk, there is the world as
a garden unto me.
How charming it is that there are words and
tones; are not words and tones rainbows and
seeming bridges 'twixt the eternally separated ?
To each soul belongeth another world ; to each
soul is every other soul a back-world.
Among the most alike doth semblance deceive
most delightfully: for the smallest gap is most
difficult to bridge over.
For me-how could there be an outside-of-me?
There is no outside! But this we forget on hearing
tones; how delightful it is that we forget!


## p. 266 (#388) ############################################

266
THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, III.
Have not names and tones been given unto
things that man may refresh himself with them?
It is a beautiful folly, speaking ; therewith danceth
man over everything.
How lovely is all speech and all falsehoods of
tones! With tones danceth our love on variegated
rainbows. -
—“O Zarathustra," said then his animals, “ to
those who think like us, things all dance them-
selves: they come and hold out the hand and
laugh and flee-and return.
Everything goeth, everything returneth ; eter-
nally rolleth the wheel of existence. Everything
dieth, everything blossometh forth again ; eternally
runneth on the year of existence.
Everything breaketh, everything is integrated
anew; eternally buildeth itself the same house of
existence. All things separate, all things again
greet one another ; eternally true to itself remaineth
the ring of existence.
Every moment beginneth existence, around every
Here' rolleth the ball “There'. The middle is
everywhere. Crooked is the path of eternity. "-
-0 ye wags and barrel-organs ! answered
Zarathustra, and smiled once more, how well do
ye know what had to be fulfilled in seven days :-
-And how that monster crept into my throat
and choked me! But I bit off its head and spat
it away from me.
And ye-ye have made a lyre-lay out of it?
Now, however, do I lie here, still exhausted with
that biting and spitting-away, still sick with minę
own salvation,


## p. 267 (#389) ############################################

LVII. —THE CONVALESCENT.
207
267
And ye looked on at it all ? O mine animals, are
ye also cruel ? Did ye like to look at my great
pain as men do? For man is the cruellest animal.
At tragedies, bull-fights, and crucifixions hath
he hitherto been happiest on earth; and when he
invented his hell, behold, that was his heaven on
earth.
When the great man crieth-: immediately
runneth the little man thither, and his tongue
hangeth out of his mouth for very lusting. He,
however, calleth it his “pity. ”
The little man, especially the poet-how passion-
ately doth he accuse life in words! Hearken to
him, but do not fail to hear the delight which is
in all accusation !
Such accusers of life-them life overcometh with
a glance of the eye. “Thou lovest me? " saith the
insolent one; "wait a little, as yet have I no time
for thee. ”
Towards himself man is the cruellest animal ;
and in all who call themselves “sinners” and
“bearers of the cross” and “penitents," do not
overlook the voluptuousness in their plaints and
accusations!
And I myself—do I thereby want to be man's
accuser? Ah, mine animals, this only have I
learned hitherto, that for man his baddest is
necessary for his best,-
-That all that is baddest is the best power, and
the hardest stone for the highest creator; and that
man must become better and badder :-
Not to this torture-stake was I tied, that I know
man is bad,but I cried, as no one hath yet cried ;


## p. 268 (#390) ############################################

268 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, III.
“Ah, that his baddest is so very small! Ah,
that his best is so very small ! ”
The great disgust at man-it strangled me and
had crept into my throat: and what the soothsayer
had presaged : “All is alike, nothing is worth while,
knowledge strangleth. ”
A long twilight limped on before me, a fatally
weary, fatally intoxicated sadness, which spake
with yawning mouth.
“Eternally he returneth, the man of whom thou
art weary, the small man”-s0 yawned my sad-
ness, and dragged its foot and could not go to sleep.
A cavern, became the human earth to me; its
breast caved in ; everything living became to me
human dust and bones and mouldering past.
My sighing sat on all human graves, and could
no longer arise: my sighing and questioning
croaked and choked, and gnawed and nagged
day and night:
—“Ah, man returneth eternally! The small man
returneth eternally! ”.
Naked had I once seen both of them, the greatest
man and the smallest man: all too like one another
--all too human, even the greatest man!
All too small, even the greatest man ! —that was
my disgust at man! And the eternal return also
of the smallest man ! —that was my disgust at all
existence!
Ah, Disgust! Disgust! Disgust! --Thus spake
Zarathustra, and sighed and shuddered ; for he
remembered his sickness. Then did his animals
prevent him from speaking further.


## p. 269 (#391) ############################################

LVII. —THE CONVALESCENT. 269
"Do not speak further, thou convalescent! "—so
answered his animals, " but go out where the world
waiteth for thee like a garden.
Go out unto the roses, the bees, and the flocks
of doves! Especially, however, unto the singing-
birds, to learn singing from them!
For singing is for the convalescent; the sound
ones may talk. And when the sound also want
songs, then want they other songs than the
convalescent. "
—" O ye wags and barrel-organs, do be silent! "
answered Zarathustra, and smiled at his animals.
"How well ye know what consolation I devised for
myself in seven days!
That I have to sing once more—that consolation
did I devise for myself, and this convalescence:
would ye also make another lyre-lay thereof? "
—" Do not talk further," answered his animals
once more; "rather, thou convalescent, prepare for
thyself first a lyre, a new lyre!
For behold, O Zarathustra! For thy new lays
there are needed new lyres.
Sing and bubble over, O Zarathustra, heal thy
soul with new lays: that thou mayest bear thy
great fate, which hath not yet been any one's fate!
For thine animals know it well, O Zarathustra,
who thou art and must become: behold, thou art
the teacher of the eternal return,—that is now thy
fate!
That thou must be the first to teach this teach-
ing—how could this great fate not be thy greatest
danger and infirmity!


## p. 270 (#392) ############################################

270 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, III.
Behold, we know what thou teachest: that all
things eternally return, and ourselves with them,
and that we have already existed times without
number, and all things with us.
Thou teachest that there is a great year of
Becoming, a prodigy of a great year; it must, like
a sand-glass, ever turn up anew, that it may anew
run down and run out:—
—So that all those years are like one another
in the greatest and also in the smallest, so that we
ourselves, in every great year, are like ourselves in
the greatest and also in the smallest.
And if thou wouldst now die, O Zarathustra,
behold, we know also how thou wouldst then speak
to thyself:—but thine animals beseech thee not to
die yet!
Thou wouldst speak, and without trembling,
buoyant rather with bliss, for a great weight and
worry would be taken from thee, thou patientest
one! —
'Now do I die and disappear,' wouldst thou say,
'and in a moment I am nothing. Souls are as
mortal as bodies.
But the plexus of causes returneth in which I
am intertwined,—it will again create me! I myself
pertain to the causes of the eternal return.
I come again with this sun, with this earth, with
this eagle, with this serpent—not to a new life, or
a better life, or a similar life:
—I come again eternally to this identical and
selfsame life, in its greatest and its smallest, to
teach again the eternal return of all things,—
—To speak again the word of the great noontide


## p. 271 (#393) ############################################

LVII. —THE CONVALESCENT. 271
of earth and man, to announce again to man the
Superman.
I have spoken my word. I break down by my
word: so willeth mine eternal fate—as announcer
do I succumb!
The hour hath now come for the down-goer to
bless himself. Thus—endeth Zarathustra's down-
going.
When the animals had spoken these words they
were silent and waited, so that Zarathustra might
say something to them: but Zarathustra did not
hear that they were silent. On the contrary, he
lay quietly with closed eyes like a person sleeping,
although he did not sleep; for he communed just
then with his soul. The serpent, however, and the
eagle, when they found him silent in such wise,
respected the great stillness around him, and
prudently retired.
LVIII. —THE GREAT LONGING.
O my soul, I have taught thee to say " to-day"
as "once on a time" and "formerly," and to
dance thy measure over every Here and There and
Yonder.
O my soul, I delivered thee from all by-places,
I brushed down from thee dust and spiders and
twilight.
O my soul, I washed the petty shame and the
by-place virtue from thee, and persuaded thee to
stand naked before the eyes of the sun.
With the storm that is called "spirit" did I


## p. 272 (#394) ############################################

272 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, III.
blow over thy surging sea; all clouds did I
blow away from it; I strangled even the strangler
called " sin. "
O my soul, I gave thee the right to say Nay like
the storm, and to say Yea as the open heaven saith
Yea: calm as the light remainest thou, and now
walkest through denying storms.
O my soul, I restored to thee liberty over the
created and the uncreated; and who knoweth, as
thou knowest, the voluptuousness of the future?
O my soul, I taught thee the contempt which
doth not come like worm-eating, the great, the
loving contempt, which loveth most where it con-
temneth most.
O my soul, I taught thee so to persuade that
thou persuadest even the grounds themselves to
thee: like the sun, which persuadeth even the sea
to its height.
O my soul, I have taken from thee all obeying
and knee-bending and homage-paying; I have
myself given thee the names, "Change of need"
and " Fate. "
O my soul, I have given thee new names and
gay-coloured playthings, I have called thee " Fate"
and "the Circuit of circuits " and "the Navel-string
of time" and "the Azure bell. "
O my soul, to thy domain give I all wisdom to
drink, all new wines, and also all immemorially old
strong wines of wisdom.
O my soul, every sun shed I upon thee, and
every night and every silence and every longing:—
then grewest thou up for me as a vine.
O my soul, exuberant and heavy dost thou now


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LVIII. —THE GREAT LONGING.
273
stand forth, a vine with swelling udders and full
clusters of brown golden grapes :-
-Filled and weighted by thy happiness, waiting
for superabundance, and yet ashamed of thy
waiting
O my soul, there is nowhere a soul which could
be more loving and more comprehensive and more
extensive! Where could future and past be closer
together than with thee?
O my soul, I have given thee everything, and all
my hands have become empty by thee:-and now!
Now sayest thou to me, smiling and full of melan-
choly: “Which of us oweth thanks ? -
--Doth the giver not owe thanks because the
receiver received ? Is bestowing not a necessity ?
Is receiving not-pitying? ”-
O my soul, I understand the smiling of thy
melancholy : thine over-abundance itself now
stretcheth out longing hands!
Thy fulness looketh forth over raging seas, and
seeketh and waiteth: the longing of over-fulness
looketh forth from the smiling heaven of thine
eyes!
And verily, O my soul! Who could see thy
smiling and not melt into tears? The angels them-
selves melt into tears through the over-graciousness
of thy smiling.
Thy graciousness and over-graciousness, is it,
which will not complain and weep: and yet, O
my soul, longeth thy smiling for tears, and thy
trembling mouth for sobs.
“Is not all weeping complaining? And all com-
plaining, accusing ? ” Thus speakest thou to thyself;


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274
THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, III.