No More Learning



## p. 209 (#297) ############################################

XLIX. -THE BEDWARFING VIRTUE.
209
Mine own forerunner am I among this people,
mine own cockcrow in dark lanes.
But their hour cometh! And there cometh also
mine! Hourly do they become smaller, poorer,
unfruitfuller,-poor herbs! poor earth !
And soon shall they stand before me like dry
grass and prairie, and verily, weary of themselves-
and panting for fire, more than for water !
O blessed hour of the lightning! O mystery
before noontide ! -Running fires will I one day
make of them, and heralds with flaming tongues :-
-Herald shall they one day with flaming tongues :
It cometh, it is nigh, the great noontide !
Thus spake Zarathustra.
L. -ON THE OLIVE-MOUNT.
Winter, a bad guest, sitteth with me at home;
blue are my hands with his friendly hand-shaking.
I honour him, that bad guest, but gladly leave
him alone. Gladly do I run away from him; and
when one runneth well, then one escapeth him !
With warm feet and warm thoughts do I run
where the wind is calm--to the sunny corner of
mine olive-mount.
There do I laugh at my stern guest, and am still
fond of him; because he cleareth my house of flies,
and quieteth many little noises.
For he suffereth it not if a gnat wanteth to buzz,
or even two of them; also the lanes maketh he
lonesome, so that the moonlight is afraid there at
night.


## p. 210 (#298) ############################################

210
THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, III.
A hard guest is he,—but I honour him, and do
not worship, like the tenderlings, the pot-bellied
fire-idol.
Better even a little teeth-chattering than idol-
adoration ! —so willeth my nature. And especi-
ally have I a grudge against all ardent, steaming,
steamy fire-idols.
Him whom I love, I love better in winter than in
summer; better do I now mock at mine enemies,
and more heartily, when winter sitteth in my
house.
Heartily, verily, even when I creep into bed—:
there, still laugheth and wantoneth my hidden hap-
piness; even my deceptive dream laugheth.
I, a-creeper? Never in my life did I creep before
the powerful; and if ever I lied, then did I lie out
of love. Therefore am I glad even in my winter-
bed.
A poor bed warmeth me more than a rich one,
for I am jealous of my poverty. And in winter she
is most faithful unto me.
With a wickedness do I begin every day: I mock
at the winter with a cold bath: on that account
grumbleth my stern house-mate.
Also do I like to tickle him with a wax-taper,
that he may finally let the heavens emerge from
ashy-grey twilight.
For especially wicked am I in the morning : at
the early hour when the pail rattleth at the well,
and horses neigh warmly in grey lanes :-
Impatiently do I then wait, that the clear sky
may finally dawn for me, the snow-bearded winter-
sky, the hoary one, the white-head,


## p. 211 (#299) ############################################

L. -ON THE OLIVE-MOUNT.
211
-The winter-sky, the silent winter-sky, which
often stifleth even its sun! .
Did I perhaps learn from it the long clear silence ?
Or did it learn it from me? Or hath each of us
devised it himself? .
Of all good things the origin is a thousandfold, -
all good roguish things spring into existence for
joy: how could they always do so—for once only!
A good roguish thing is also the long silence,
and to look, like the winter-sky, out of a clear,
round-eyed countenance :-
-Like it to stifle one's sun, and one's inflexible
solar will : verily, this art and this winter-roguish-
ness have I learnt well!
My best-loved wickedness and art is it, that my
silence hath learned not to betray itself by silence.
Clattering with diction and dice, I outwit the
solemn assistants : all those stern watchers, shall
my will and purpose elude.
That no one might see down into my depth and
into mine ultimate will—for that purpose did I
devise the long clear silence.
Many a shrewd one did I find : he veiled his
countenance and made his water muddy, that no one
might see therethrough and thereunder.
But precisely unto him came the shrewder dis-
trusters and nut-crackers : precisely from him did
they fish his best-concealed fish!
But the clear, the honest, the transparent—these
are for me the wisest silent ones: in them, so
profound is the depth that even the clearest water
doth not-betray it. -
Thou snow-bearded, silent, winter-sky, thou


## p. 212 (#300) ############################################

212 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, III.
round - eyed whitehead above me! Oh, thou
heavenly simile of my soul and its wantonness!
And must I not conceal myself like one who
hath swallowed gold—lest my soul should be
ripped up?
Must I not wear stilts, that they may overlook
my long legs—all those enviers and injurers
around me?
Those dingy, fire-warmed, used-up, green-tinted,
ill-natured souls—how could their envy endure my
happiness!
Thus do I show them only the ice and winter of
my peaks—and not that my mountain windeth all
the solar girdles around it!
They hear only the whistling of my winter-
storms: and know not that I also travel over warm
seas, like longing, heavy, hot south-winds.
They commiserate also my accidents and
chances:—but my word saith: "Suffer the chance
to come unto me: innocent is it as a little
child! "
How could they endure my happiness, if I did
not put around it accidents, and winter-privations,
and bear-skin caps, and enmantling snowflakes!
—If I did not myself commiserate their pity, the
pity of those enviers and injurers!
—If I did not myself sigh before them, and
chatter with cold, and patiently let myself be
swathed in their pity!
This is the wise waggish-will and good-will of my
soul, that it concealeth not its winters and glacial
storms; it concealeth not its chilblains either.
To one man, lonesomeness is the flight of the


## p. 213 (#301) ############################################

L. —ON THE OLIVE-MOUNT. 213
sick one; to another, it is the flight from the
sick ones.
Let them hear me chattering and sighing with
winter-cold, all those poor squinting knaves around
me! With such sighing and chattering do I flee
from their heated rooms.
Let them sympathise with me and sigh with me
on account of my chilblains: "At the ice of
knowledge will he yet freeze to death ! "—so they
mourn.
Meanwhile do I run with warm feet hither and
thither on mine olive-mount: in the sunny corner
of mine olive-mount do I sing, and mock at all
Pity-
Thus sang Zarathustra.
LI. —ON PASSING-BY.
Thus slowly wandering through many peoples
and divers cities, did Zarathustra return by round-
about roads to his mountains and his cave. And
behold, thereby came he unawares also to the gate
of the great city. Here, however, a foaming fool,
with extended hands, sprang forward to him and
stood in his way. It was the same fool whom the
people called "the ape of Zarathustra :" for he had
learned from him something of the expression and
modulation of language, and perhaps liked also to
borrow from the store of his wisdom. And the
fool talked thus to Zarathustra:
O Zarathustra, here is the great city: here hast
thota nothing to seek and everything to lose.


## p. 214 (#302) ############################################

214
THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, III.
Why wouldst thou wade through this mire ?
Have pity upon thy foot! Spit rather on the gate
of the city, and—turn back!
Here is the hell for anchorites' thoughts: here
are great thoughts seethed alive and boiled small.
Here do all great sentiments decay: here may
only rattle-boned sensations rattle!
Smellest thou not already the shambles and
cookshops of the spirit ? Steameth not this city
with the fumes of slaughtered spirit ?
Seest thou not the souls hanging like limp dirty
rags ? —And they make newspapers also out
these rags !
Hearest thou not how spirit hath here becom
a verbal game? Loathsome verbal swill doth
vomit forth ! —And they make newspapers also o
of this verbal swill.
They hound one another, and know not whithe
They inflame one another, and know not wh
They tinkle with their pinchbeck, they jingle wi
their gold.
They are cold, and seek warmth from distill
waters: they are inflamed, and seek coolness frc
frozen spirits; they are all sick and sore throu
public opinion.
All lusts and vices are here at home; but h
there are also the virtuous; there is much appoi
able appointed virtue:-
Much appointable virtue with scribe-fing
and hardy sitting-flesh and waiting-flesh, bles
with small breast-stars, and padded, haunch
daughters.
There is here also much piety, and much fait


## p. 215 (#303) ############################################

LI. —ON PASSING-BY. 215
spittle-licking and spittle-backing, before the God
of Hosts.
"From on high," drippeth the star, and the
gracious spittle; for the high, longeth every star-
less bosom.
The moon hath its court, and the court hath its
moon-calves: unto all, however, that cometh from
the court do the mendicant people pray, and all
appointable mendicant virtues.
"I serve, thou servest, we serve"—so prayeth
all appointable virtue to the prince: that the
merited star may at last stick on the slender
breast!
But the moon still revolveth around all that is
earthly: so revolveth also the prince around what
is earthliest of all—that, however, is the gold of
the shopman.
The God of the Hosts of war is not the God of
the gold bar; the prince proposeth, but the shop-
man—disposeth!
By all that is luminous and strong and good in
thee, O Zarathustra! Spit on this city of shopmen
and return back!
Here floweth all blood putridly and tepidly and
frothily through all veins: spit on the great city,
which is the great slum where all the scum frotheth
together!
Spit on the city of compressed souls and slender
breasts, of pointed eyes and sticky fingers—
—On the city of the obtrusive, the brazen-faced,
the pen-demagogues and tongue-demagogues, the
overheated ambitious:—
Where everything maimed, ill-famed, lustful,


## p. 216 (#304) ############################################

216 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, III.
untrustful, over-mellow, sickly-yellow and seditious,
festereth pernicious :-
-Spit on the great city and turn back !
Here, however, did Zarathustra interrupt the
foaming fool, and shut his mouth. -
Stop this at once! called out Zarathustra, long
have thy speech and thy species disgusted me!
Why didst thou live so long by the swamp,
that thou thyself hadst to become a frog and a
toad ?
Floweth there not a tainted, frothy, swamp-blood
in thine own veins, when thou hast thus learned to
croak and revile ?
Why wentest thou not into the forest? Or why
didst thou not till the ground? Is the sea not full
of green islands ?
I despise thy contempt; and when thou warnedst
me—why didst thou not warn thyself?
Out of love alone shall my contempt and
my warning bird take wing; but not out of the
swamp! -
They call thee mine ape, thou foaming fool: but
I call thee my grunting-pig,—by thy grunting, thou
spoilest even my praise of folly.
What was it that first made thee grunt? Because
no one sufficiently flattered thee :—therefore didst
thou seat thyself beside this filth, that thou mightest
have cause for much grunting,-
- That thou mightest have cause for much
vengeance! For vengeance, thou vain fool, is all
thy foaming ; I have divined thee well!
But thy fools-word injureth me, even when thou


## p. 217 (#305) ############################################

LI. -ON PASSING-BY.
217
art right! And even if Zarathustra's word were a
hundred times justified, thou wouldst ever--do
wrong with my word !
Thus spake Zarathustra. Then did he look on
the great city and sighed, and was long silent. At
last he spake thus :
I loathe also this great city, and not only this
fool. Here and there—there is nothing to better,
nothing to worsen.
Woe to this great city ! -And I would that I
already saw the pillar of fire in which it will be
consumed !
For such pillars of fire must precede the great
noontide. But this hath its time and its own
fate. -
This precept, however, give I unto thee, in part-
ing, thou fool : Where one can no longer love,
there should one-pass by ! -
Thus spake Zarathustra, and passed by the fool
and the great city.
LII. —THE APOSTATES.
Ah, lieth everything already withered and grey
which but lately stood green and many-hued on this
meadow! And how much honey of hope did I
carry hence into my beehives !
Those young hearts have already all become old
-and not old even! only weary, ordinary, com-


## p. 218 (#306) ############################################

218 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, III.
Portable:—they declare it: "We have again become
pious. "
Of late did I see them run forth at early morn
with valorous steps: but the feet of their knowledge
became weary, and now do they malign even their
morning valour!
Verily, many of them once lifted their legs like
the dancer; to them winked the laughter of my
wisdom :—then did they bethink themselves. Just
now have I seen them bent down—to creep to the
cross.
Around light and liberty did they once flutter
like gnats and young poets. A little older, a little
colder: and already are they mystifiers, and
mumblers and mollycoddles.
Did perhaps their hearts despond, because lone-
someness had swallowed me like a whale? Did
their ear perhaps hearken yearningly-long for me
in vain, and for my trumpet-notes and herald-
calls?
—Ah! Ever are there but few of those whose
hearts have persistent courage and exuberance; and
in such remaineth also the spirit patient. The rest,
however, are cowardly.
The rest: these are always the great majority,
the common-place, the superfluous, the far-too
many—those all are cowardly ! —
Him who is of my type, will also the experiences
of my type meet on the way: so that his first
companions must be corpses and buffoons.
His second companions, however—they will call
themselves his believers,—will be a living host, with
much love, much folly, much unbearded veneration.


## p. 219 (#307) ############################################

LII. —THE APOSTATES.
219
To those believers shall he who is of my type
among men not bind his heart; in those spring-
times and many-hued meadows shall he not be-
lieve, who knoweth the fickly faint-hearted human
species !
Could they do otherwise, then would they also
will otherwise. The half-and-half spoil every whole.
That leaves become withered,—what is there to
lament about that!
Let them go and fall away, O Zarathustra, and
do not lament! Better even to blow amongst them
with rustling winds -
-Blow amongst those leaves, O Zarathustra, that
everything withered may run away from thee the
faster!
“We have again become pious"-so do those
apostates confess; and some of them are still too
pusillanimous thus to confess.
Unto them I look into the eye,-before them
I say it unto their face and unto the blush on their
cheeks: Ye are those who again pray !
It is however a shame to pray! Not for all, but
for thee, and me, and whoever hath his conscience
in his head. For thee it is a shame to pray!
Thou knowest it well: the faint-hearted devil
in thee, which would fain fold its arms, and place
its hands in its bosom, and take it easier :—this
faint-hearted devil persuadeth thee that “there is
a God! ”
Thereby, however, dost thou belong to the light-


## p. 220 (#308) ############################################

220 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, III.
dreading type, to whom light never permitteth
repose: now must thou daily thrust thy head
deeper into obscurity and vapour! #
And verily, thou choosest the hour well: for just
now do the nocturnal birds again fly abroad. The
hour hath come for all light-dreading people, the
vesper hour and leisure hour, when they do not—
"take leisure. "
I hear it and smell it: it hath come—their hour
for hunt and procession, not indeed for a wild hunt,
but for a tame, lame, snuffling, soft-treaders', soft-
prayers' hunt,—
—For a hunt after susceptible simpletons: all
mouse-traps for the heart have again been set!
And whenever I lift a curtain, a night-moth rusheth
out of it.
Did it perhaps squat there along with another
night-moth? For everywhere do I smell small
concealed communities; and wherever there are
closets there are new devotees therein, and the
atmosphere of devotees.
They sit for long evenings beside one another,
and say: "Let us again become like little children
and say, 'good God ! '"—ruined in mouths and
stomachs by the pious confectioners.
Or they look for long evenings at a crafty, lurk-
ing cross-spider, that preacheth prudence to the
spiders themselves, and teacheth that " under crosses
it is good for cobweb-spinning! "
Or they sit all day at swamps with angle-rods,
and on that account think themselves profound;
but whoever fisheth where there are no fish, I do
not even call him superficial!


## p. 221 (#309) ############################################

UL—THE APOSTATES. 221
Or they learn in godly-gay style to play the harp
with a hymn-poet, who would fain harp himself
into the heart of young girls :—for he hath tired of
old girls and their praises.
Or they learn to shudder with a learned semi-
madcap, who waiteth in darkened rooms for spirits
to come to him—and the spirit runneth away
entirely!
Or they listen to an old roving howl- and growl-
piper, who hath learnt from the sad winds the sad-
ness of sounds; now pipeth he as the wind, and
preacheth sadness in sad strains.
And some of them have even become night-
watchmen: they know now how to blow horns,
and go about at night and awaken old things
which have long fallen asleep.
Five words about old things did I hear yester-
night at the garden-wall: they came from such old,
sorrowful, arid night-watchmen.
"For a father he careth not sufficiently for his
children: human fathers do this better! "—
"He is too old! He now careth no more for his
children,"—answered the other night-watchman.
"Hath he then children? No one can prove it
unless he himself prove it! I have long wished
that he would for once prove it thoroughly. "
"Prove? As if he had ever proved anything!
Proving is difficult to him; he layeth great stress
on one's believing him. "
"Ay! Ay! Belief saveth him; belief in him.
That is the way with old people! So it is with
us also! "—
—Thus spake to each other the two old night-
J /


## p. 222 (#310) ############################################

222
THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, III.
watchmen and light-scarers, and tooted thereupon
sorrowfully on their horns : so did it happen yester-
night at the garden-wall.
To me, however, did the heart writhe with
laughter, and was like to break; it knew not where
to go, and sunk into the midriff.
Verily, it will be my death yet—to choke with
laughter when I see asses drunken, and hear night-
watchmen thus doubt about God.
Hath the time not long since passed for all such
doubts? Who may nowadays awaken such old
slumbering, light-shunning things!
With the old Deities hath it long since come to
an end :-and verily, a good joyful Deity-end
had they !
They did not “ begloom” themselves to death-
that do people fabricate! On the contrary, they-
laughed themselves to death once on a time!
That took place when the ungodliest utterance
came from a God himself—the utterance: “There
is but one God! Thou shalt have no other Gods
before me! "-
-An old grim-beard of a God, a jealous one,
forgot himself in such wise :-
And all the Gods then laughed, and shook upon
their thrones, and exclaimed: “Is it not just
divinity that there are Gods, but no God? "
He that hath an ear let him hear. -
Thus talked Zarathustra in the city he loved,
which is surnamed “The Pied Cow. " For from
here he had but two days to travel to reach once
more his cave and his animals; his soul, however,


## p. 223 (#311) ############################################

LIII. —THE RETURN HOME.
223
rejoiced unceasingly on account of the nighness of
his return home.
LIII. —THE RETURN HOME.
away
have Who
O lonesomeness! my home, lonesomeness! Too
long have I lived wildly in wild remoteness, to
return to thee without tears!
Now threaten me with the finger as mothers
threaten; now smile upon me as mothers smile ;
now say just: “Who was it that like a whirlwind
once rushed away from me —
-Who when departing called out : ‘Too long
have I sat with lonesomeness; there have I
unlearned silence! ' That hast thou learned now-
surely?
O Zarathustra, everything do I know; and that
thou wert more forsaken amongst the many, thou
unique one, than thou ever wert with me!
One thing is forsakenness, another matter is
lonesomeness : that hast thou now learned! And
that amongst men thou wilt ever be wild and
strange:
-Wild and strange even when they love thee:
for above all they want to be treated indulgently !
Here, however, art thou at home and house
with thyself; here canst thou utter everything, and
unbosom all motives ; nothing is here ashamed of
concealed, congealed feelings.
Here do all things come caressingly to thy talk
and flatter thee: for they want to ride upon thy
back. On every simile dost thou here ride to
every truth.


## p. 224 (#312) ############################################

224
THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, III.
Uprightly and openly mayest thou here talk to
all things: and verily, it soundeth as praise in their
ears, for one to talk to all things—directly!
Another matter, however, is forsakenness. For,
dost thou remember, O Zarathustra ? When thy
bird screamed overhead, when thou stoodest in the
forest, irresolute, ignorant where to go, beside a
corpse :-
-When thou spakest: 'Let mine animals lead
me! More dangerous have I found it among men
than among animals :'-That was forsakenness!
And dost thou remember, O Zarathustra ? When
thou sattest in thine isle, a well of wine giving and
granting amongst empty buckets, bestowing and
distributing amongst the thirsty :
-Until at last thou alone sattest thirsty amongst
the drunken ones, and wailedst nightly: 'Is taking
not more blessed than giving? And stealing yet
more blessed than taking? '-—That was forsaken-
ness !
And dost thou remember, O Zarathustra ? When
thy stillest hour came and drove thee forth from
thyself, when with wicked whispering it said:
'Speak and succumb! '-
-When it disgusted thee with all thy waiting
and silence, and discouraged thy humble courage :
That was forsakenness! "-
O lonesomeness! My home, lonesomeness !
How blessedly and tenderly speaketh thy voice
unto me!
We do not question each other, we do not
complain to each other; we go together openly
through open doors.


## p. 225 (#313) ############################################

LIII. —THE RETURN HOME. 225
For all is open with thee and clear; and even
the hours run here on lighter feet. For in the dark,
time weigheth heavier upon one than in the light.
Here fly open unto me all being's words and
word-cabinets: here all being wanteth to become
words, here all becoming wanteth to learn of me
how to talk.
Down there, however—all talking is in vain!
There, forgetting and passing-by are the best
wisdom: that have I learned now!
He who would understand everything in man
must handle everything. But for that I have too
clean hands.
I do not like even to inhale their breath; alas!
that I have lived so long among their noise and
bad breaths!
O blessed stillness around me! O pure odours
around me! How from a deep breast this stillness
fetcheth pure breath! How it hearkeneth, this
blessed stillness!
But down there—there speaketh everything,
there is everything misheard. If one announce
one's wisdom with bells, the shopmen in the market-
place will out-jingle it with pennies!
Everything among them talketh ; no one knoweth
any longer how to understand. Everything falleth
into the water; nothing falleth any longer into
deep wells.
Everything among them talketh, nothing suc-
ceedeth any longer and accomplisheth itself.
Everything cackleth, but who will still sit quietly
on the nest and hatch eggs?
Everything among them talketh, everything is
P
S


## p. 225 (#314) ############################################

224 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, III.
Uprightly and openly mayest thou here talk to
all things: and verily, it soundeth as praise in their
ears, for one to talk to all things—directly!
Another matter, however, is forsakenness. For,
dost thou remember, O Zarathustra? When thy
bird screamed overhead, when thou stoodest in the
forest, irresolute, ignorant where to go, beside a
corpse:—
—When thou spakest: 'Let mine animals lead
me! More dangerous have I found it among men
than among animals :'—That was forsakenness!
And dost thou remember, 0 Zarathustra? When
thou sattest in thine isle, a well of wine giving and
granting amongst empty buckets, bestowing and
distributing amongst the thirsty:
—Until at last thou alone sattest thirsty amongst
the drunken ones, and wailedst nightly: 'Is taking
not more blessed than giving? And stealing yet
more blessed than taking? '—That was forsaken-
ness
And dost thou remember, O Zarathustra? When
thy stillest hour came and drove thee forth from
thyself, when with wicked whispering it said:
'Speak and succumb ! '—
—When it disgusted thee with all thy waiting
and silence, and discouraged thy humble courage:
That was forsakenness! "—
O lonesomeness! My home, lonesomeness!
How blessedly and tenderly speaketh thy voice
unto me!
We do not question each other, we do not
complain to each other; we go together openly
through open doors.


## p. 225 (#315) ############################################

LIII. —THE RETURN HOME. 225
For all is open with thee and clear; and even
the hours run here on lighter feet. For in the dark,
time weigheth heavier upon one than in the light.
Here fly open unto me all being's words and
word-cabinets: here all being wanteth to become
words, here all becoming wanteth to learn of me
how to talk.
Down there, however—all talking is in vain!
There, forgetting and passing-by are the best
wisdom: that have I learned now!
He who would understand everything in man
must handle everything. But for that I have too
clean hands.
I do not like even to inhale their breath; alas!
that I have lived so long among their noise and
bad breaths!
O blessed stillness around me! O pure odours
around me! How from a deep breast this stillness
fetcheth pure breath! How it hearkeneth, this
blessed stillness!
But down there—there speaketh everything,
there is everything misheard. If one announce
one's wisdom with bells, the shopmen in the market-
place will out-jingle it with pennies!
Everything among them talketh ; no one knoweth
any longer how to understand. Everything falleth
into the water; nothing falleth any longer into
deep wells.
Everything among them talketh, nothing suc-
ceedeth any longer and accomplisheth itself.
Everything cackleth, but who will still sit quietly
on the nest and hatch eggs?
Everything among them talketh, everything is
P


## p. 225 (#316) ############################################

224 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, III.
Uprightly and openly mayest thou here talk to
all things: and verily, it soundeth as praise in their
ears, for one to talk to all things—directly!
Another matter, however, is forsakenness. For,
dost thou remember, O Zarathustra? When thy
bird screamed overhead, when thou stoodest in the
forest, irresolute, ignorant where to go, beside a
corpse:—
—When thou spakest: 'Let mine animals lead
me! More dangerous have I found it among men
than among animals :'—That was forsakenness!
And dost thou remember, O Zarathustra? When
thou sattest in thine isle, a well of wine giving and
granting amongst empty buckets, bestowing and
distributing amongst the thirsty:
—Until at last thou alone sattest thirsty amongst
the drunken ones, and wailedst nightly: 'Is taking
not more blessed than giving? And stealing yet
more blessed than taking? '—That was forsaken-
ness!
And dost thou remember, O Zarathustra? When
thy stillest hour came and drove thee forth from
thyself, when with wicked whispering it said:
'Speak and succumb! '—
—When it disgusted thee with all thy waiting
and silence, and discouraged thy humble courage:
That was forsakenness! "—
O lonesomeness! My home, lonesomeness!
How blessedly and tenderly speaketh thy voice
unto me!
We do not question each other, we do not
complain to each other; we go together openly
through open doors.


## p. 225 (#317) ############################################

LIII. —THE RETURN HOME. 225
For all is open with thee and clear; and even
the hours run here on lighter feet. For in the dark,
time weigheth heavier upon one than in the light.
Here fly open unto me all being's words and
word-cabinets: here all being wanteth to become
words, here all becoming wanteth to learn of me
how to talk.
Down there, however—all talking is in vain!
There, forgetting and passing-by are the best
wisdom: that have I learned now!
He who would understand everything in man
must handle everything. But for that I have too
clean hands.
I do not like even to inhale their breath; alas!
that I have lived so long among their noise and
bad breaths!
O blessed stillness around me! O pure odours
around me! How from a deep breast this stillness
fetcheth pure breath! How it hearkeneth, this
blessed stillness!
But down there—there speaketh everything,
there is everything misheard. If one announce
one's wisdom with bells, the shopmen in the market-
place will out-jingle it with pennies!
Everything among them talketh ; no one knoweth
any longer how to understand. Everything falleth
into the water; nothing falleth any longer into
deep wells.
Everything among them talketh, nothing suc-
ceedeth any longer and accomplisheth itself.
Everything cackleth, but who will still sit quietly
on the nest and hatch eggs?
Everything among them talketh, everything is
P


## p. 225 (#318) ############################################

224 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, III.
Uprightly and openly mayest thou here talk to
all things: and verily, it soundeth as praise in their
ears, for one to talk to all things—directly!
Another matter, however, is forsakenness. For,
dost thou remember, O Zarathustra? When thy
bird screamed overhead, when thou stoodest in the
forest, irresolute, ignorant where to go, beside a
corpse:—
—When thou spakest: 'Let mine animals lead
me! More dangerous have I found it among men
than among animals :'—That was forsakenness!
And dost thou remember, O Zarathustra? When
thou sattest in thine isle, a well of wine giving and
granting amongst empty buckets, bestowing and
distributing amongst the thirsty:
—Until at last thou alone sattest thirsty amongst
the drunken ones, and wailedst nightly: 'Is taking
not more blessed than giving? And stealing yet
more blessed than taking? '—That was forsaken-
ness!
And dost thou remember, O Zarathustra? When
thy stillest hour came and drove thee forth from
thyself, when with wicked whispering it said:
'Speak and succumb! '—
—When it disgusted thee with all thy waiting
and silence, and discouraged thy humble courage:
That was forsakenness! "—
O lonesomeness! My home, lonesomeness!
How blessedly and tenderly speaketh thy voice
unto me!
We do not question each other, we do not
complain to each other; we go together openly
through open doors.


## p. 225 (#319) ############################################

LIII. —THE RETURN HOME. 225
For all is open with thee and clear; and even
the hours run here on lighter feet. For in the dark,
time weigheth heavier upon one than in the light.
Here fly open unto me all being's words and
word-cabinets: here all being wanteth to become
words, here all becoming wanteth to learn of me
how to talk.
Down there, however—all talking is in vain!
There, forgetting and passing-by are the best
wisdom: that have I learned now!
He who would understand everything in man
must handle everything. But for that I have too
clean hands.
I do not like even to inhale their breath; alas!
that I have lived so long among their noise and
bad breaths!
O blessed stillness around me! O pure odours
around me! How from a deep breast this stillness
fetcheth pure breath! How it hearkeneth, this
blessed stillness!
But down there—there speaketh everything,
there is everything misheard. If one announce
one's wisdom with bells, the shopmen in the market-
place will out-jingle it with pennies!