No thinker's thoughts give me so much
pleasure as my own: this, of course, proves nothing
in favour of their value; but I should be foolish to
neglect fruits which are tasteful to me only because
they happen to grow on my own tree !
pleasure as my own: this, of course, proves nothing
in favour of their value; but I should be foolish to
neglect fruits which are tasteful to me only because
they happen to grow on my own tree !
Nietzsche - v09 - The Dawn of Day
—and all their ceremonies—cere-
monies for something non-existent also?
475-
Becoming Heavy. —You know him not: what-
ever weights he may attach to himself he will
nevertheless be able to raise them all with him.
But you, judging from the weak flapping of your
own wings, come to the conclusion that he wishes
to remain below, merely because he does burden
himself with those weights.
476.
At the Harvest Thanksgiving of the
INTELLECT. —There is a daily increase and ac-
cumulation of experiences, events, opinions upon
these experiences and events, and dreams upon
these opinions—a boundless and delightful display
of wealth! its aspect dazzles the eyes: I can no
longer understand how the poor in spirit can be
called blessed! Occasionally, however, I envy
them when I am tired: for the superintendence of
such vast wealth is no easy task, and its weight
frequently crushes all happiness. —Alas, if only the
## p. 337 (#481) ############################################
THE DAWN OF DAY:
337
mere sight of it were sufficient! If only we could
be misers of our knowledge !
477.
FREED FROM SCEPTICISM. —
A. Some men emerge from a general moral
scepticism bad-tempered and feeble, corroded,
worm-eaten, and even partly consumed—but I on
the other hand, more courageous and healthier than
ever, and with my instincts conquered once more.
Where a strong wind blows, where the waves are
rolling angrily, and where more than usual danger
is to be faced, there I feel happy. I did not
become a worm, although I often had to work and
dig like a worm.
B. You have just ceased to be a sceptic; for
you deny !
A. And in doing so I have learnt to say yea
again.
478.
LET US PASS BY. -Spare him! Leave him in
his solitude ! Do you wish to crush him down
entirely? He became cracked like a glass into
which some hot liquid was poured suddenly—and
he was such a precious glass !
479.
LOVE AND TRUTHFULNESS. Through our love
we have become dire offenders against truth, and
even habitual dissimulators and thieves, who give
## p. 338 (#482) ############################################
333 THE DAWN OF DAY.
out more things as true than seem to us to be
true. On this account the thinker must from time
to time drive away those whom he loves (not
necessarily those who love him), so that they may
show their sting and wickedness, and cease to
tempt him. Consequently the kindness of the
thinker will have its waning and waxing moon.
480.
Inevitable. —No matter what your experience
may be, any one who does not feel well disposed
towards you will find in this experience some pre-
text for disparaging you! You may undergo the
greatest possible revolutions of mind and know-
ledge, and at length, with the melancholy smile of
the convalescent, you may be able to step out into
freedom and bright stillness, and yet some one will
say: "This fellow looks upon his illness as an
argument, and takes his impotence to be a proof
of the impotence of all others—he is vain enough
to fall ill that he may feel the superiority of the
sufferer. " And again, if somebody were to break
the chains that bound him down, and wounded
himself severely in doing so, some one else would
point at him mockingly and cry: "How awkward
he is! there is a man who had got accustomed to
his chains, and yet he is fool enough to burst them
asunder! "
481.
Two GERMANS—If we compare Kant and
Schopenhauer with Plato, Spinoza, Pascal, Rous-
seau, and Goethe, with reference to their souls
## p. 339 (#483) ############################################
THE DAWN OF DAY. 339
and not their intellects, we shall see that the two
first-named thinkers are at a disadvantage: their
thoughts do not constitute a passionate history of
their souls—we are not led to expect in them
romance, crises, catastrophies, or death struggles.
Their thinking is not at the same time the in-
voluntary biography of a soul, but in the case of
Kant merely of a head; and in the case of
Schopenhauer again merely the description and
reflection of a character (" the invariable ") and the
pleasure which this reflection causes, that is to say,
the pleasure of meeting with an intellect of the
first order.
Kant, when he shimmers through his thoughts,
appears to us as an honest and honourable man
in the best sense of the words, but likewise as an
insignificant one: he is wanting in breadth and
power; he had not come through many experi-
ences, and his method of working did not allow
him sufficient time to undergo experiences. Of
course, in speaking of experiences, I do not refer
to the ordinary external events of life, but to those
fatalities and convulsions which occur in the course
of the most solitary and quiet life which has some
leisure and glows with the passion for thinking.
Schopenhauer has at all events one advantage over
him; for he at least was distinguished by a certain
fierce ugliness of disposition, which showed itself in
hatred, desire, vanity, and suspicion: he was of a
rather more ferocious disposition, and had both
time and leisure to indulge this ferocity. But he
lacked "development," which was also wanting in
his range of thought: he had no "history. "
## p. 340 (#484) ############################################
34°
THE DAWN OF DAY.
482.
Seeking one's Company. —Are we then look-
ing for too much when we seek the company of
men who have grown mild, agreeable to the taste,
and nutritive, like chestnuts which have been put
into the fire and taken out just at the right
moment? Of men who expect little from life, and
prefer to accept this little as a present rather than
as a merit of their own, as if it were carried to them
by birds and bees? Of men who are too proud
ever to feel themselves rewarded, and too serious
in their passion for knowledge and honesty to have
time for or pleasure in fame? Such men we
should call philosophers; but they themselves will
always find some more modest designation.
483-
Satiated with Mankind. —
A. Seek for knowledge! Yes ■ but always as a
man! What? must I always be a spectator of the
same comedy, and always play a part in the same
comedy, without ever being able to observe things
with other eyes than those? and yet there may be
countless types of beings whose organs are better
adapted for knowledge than ours! At the end of
all their searching for knowledge what will men
at length come to know? Their organs! which
perhaps is as much as to say: the impossibility of
knowledge' misery and disgust!
B. This is a bad attack you have—reason is
attacking you! to-morrow, however, you will again
## p. 341 (#485) ############################################
THE DAWN OF DAY. 341
be in the midst of knowledge, and hence of irra-
tionality—that is to say, delighted about all that
is human. Let us go to the sea!
484.
Going our own Way. —When we take the
decisive step, and make up our minds to follow
our own path, a secret is suddenly revealed to us:
it is clear that all those who had hitherto been
friendly to us and on intimate terms with us judged
themselves to be superior to us, and are offended
now. The best among them are indulgent, and
are content to wait patiently until we once more
find the "right path "—they know it, apparently.
Others make fun of us, and pretend that we have
been seized with a temporary attack of mild in-
sanity, or spitefully point out some seducer. The
more malicious say we are vain fools, and do their
best to blacken our motives; while the worst of all
see in us their greatest enemy, some one who is
thirsting for revenge after many years of depend-
ence,—and are afraid of us. What, then, are we
to do? My own opinion is that we should begin
our sovereignty by promising to all our acquaint-
ances in advance a whole year's amnesty for sins
of every kind.
485.
Far-off Perspectives. —
A. But why this solitude?
B. I am not angry with anybody. But when
I am alone it seems to me that I can see my
friends in a clearer and rosier light than when I
## p. 342 (#486) ############################################
34^ THE DAWX OF DAY.
am with them; and when I loved and felt music
best I lived far from it. It would seem that I
most have distant perspectives in order that I
may think well of things.
486.
GOLD AND Hunger. —Here and there we
meet with a man who changes into gold everything
that he touches. But some fine evil day he will
discover that he himself must starve through this
gift of his. Everything around him is brilliant,
superb, and unapproachable in its ideal beauty,
and now he eagerly longs for things which it is
impossible for him to turn into gold and how
intense is this longing! like that of a starving man
for a meal! Query: What will he seize?
487.
Shame. —Look at that noble steed pawing the
ground, snorting, longing for a ride, and loving its
accustomed rider—but, shameful to relate, the rider
cannot mount to-day. he is tired. —Such is the
shame felt by the weary thinker in the presence
of his own philosophy '.
488.
Against the Waste of Love. —Do we not
blush when we surprise ourselves in a state of
violent aversion? Well, then, we should also blush
when we find ourselves possessed of strong affections
onaccount of the injustice contained in them. More:
## p. 343 (#487) ############################################
THE DAWN OF DAY. 343
there are people who feel their hearts weighed down
and oppressedwhen some one gives them the benefit
of his love and sympathy to the extent that he
deprives others of a share. The tone of his voice
reveals to us the fact that we have been specially
selected and preferred ! but, alas! I am not thankful
for being thus selected: I experience within myself
a certain feeling of resentment against him who
wishes to distinguish me in this way—he shall not
love me at the expense of others! I shall always
try to look after myself and to endure myself, and
my heart is often filled to overflowing, and with
some reason. To such a man nothing ought to be
given of which others stand so greatly in need.
489.
Friends in Need. —We may occasionally
remark that one of our friends sympathises with
another more than with us. His delicacy is troubled
thereby, and his selfishness is not equal to the task
of breaking down his feelings of affection: in such
a case we should facilitate the separation for him,
and estrange him in some way in order to widen
the distance between us. —This is also necessary
when we fall into a habit of thinking which might
be detrimental to him: our affection for him
should induce us to ease his conscience in separating
himself from us by means of some injustice which
we voluntarily take upon ourselves.
490.
Those petty Truths. —" You know all that,
but you have never lived through it—so I will not
s■
## p. 344 (#488) ############################################
344 THE DAWN OF DAY.
accept your evidence. Those' petty truths'—you
deem them petty because yon have not paid for
them with your blood ! "—But are they really great,
simply because they have been bought at so high a
price? and blood is always too high a price! —** Do
you really think so? How stingy you are with your
blood:"
491.
Solitude, therefore ! —
A. So you wish to go back to your desert?
B. I am not a quick thinker; I must wait for
myself a long time—it is always later and later
before the water from the fountain of my own ego
spurts forth, and I have often to go thirsty longer
than suits my patience That is why I retire into
solitude in order that I may not have to drink from
the common cisterns. When I live in the midst
of the multitude my life is like theirs, and I do not
think like myself; but after some time it always
seems to me as if the multitude wished to banish
me from myself, and to rob me of my soul. Then
I get angry with all these people, and afraid of them;
and I must have the desert to become well disposed
again.
492.
Under the South Wind. —
A. I can no longer understand myself! It was
only yesterday that I felt myself so tempestuous and
ardent, and at the same time so warm and sunny
and exceptionally bright! but to-day! Now
everything is calm, wide, oppressive, and dark like
the lagoon at Venice. I wish for nothing, and
## p. 345 (#489) ############################################
THE DAWN OF DAY. 345
draw a deep breath, and yet I feel inwardly in-
dignant at this "wish for nothing "—so the waves
rise and fall in the ocean of my melancholy.
B. You describe a petty, agreeable illness. The
next wind from the north-east will blow it away.
A. Why so?
493-
On One's own Tree. —
A. No thinker's thoughts give me so much
pleasure as my own: this, of course, proves nothing
in favour of their value; but I should be foolish to
neglect fruits which are tasteful to me only because
they happen to grow on my own tree ! —and I was
once such a fool.
B. Others have the contrary feeling: which like-
wise proves nothing in favour of their thoughts, nor
yet is it any argument against their value.
494-
The Last Argument of the Brave Man. —
There are snakes in this little clump of trees. —
Very well, I will rush into the thicket and kill them.
—But by doing that you will run the risk of falling
a victim to them, and not they to you. —But what
do I matter?
495-
OUR Teachers. —During our period of youth
we select our teachers and guides from our own
times, and from those circles which we happen to
meet with: we have the thoughtless conviction that
the present age must have teachers who will suit
## p. 345 (#490) ############################################
344
THE DAWN OF DAY.
accept your evidence. Those 'petty truths'—you
deem them petty because you have not paid for
them with your blood ! ”—But are they really great,
simply because they have been bought at so high a
price? and blood is always too high a price ! —“Do
you really think so ? How stingy you are with your
blood ! "
491.
SOLITUDE, THEREFORE ! -
A. So you wish to go back to your desert ?
B. I am not a quick thinker; I must wait for
myself a long time—it is always later and later
before the water from the fountain of my own ego
spurts forth, and I have often to go thirsty longer
than suits my patience. That is why I retire into
solitude in order that I may not have to drink from
the common cisterns. When I live in the midst
of the multitude my life is like theirs, and I do not
think like myself; but after some time it always
seems to me as if the multitude wished to banish
me from myself, and to rob me of my soul. Then
I get angry with all these people, and afraid of them;
and I must have the desert to become well disposed
again.
492.
UNDER THE South WIND. -
A. I can no longer understand myself! It was
only yesterday that I felt myself so tempestuous and
ardent, and at the same time so warm and sunny
and exceptionally bright! but to-day! Now
everything is calm, wide, oppressive, and dark like
the lagoon at Venice. I wish for nothing, and
## p. 345 (#491) ############################################
THE DAWN OF DAY.
345
draw a deep breath, and yet I feel inwardly in-
dignant at this “wish for nothing"--so the waves
rise and fall in the ocean of my melancholy.
B. You describe a petty, agreeable illness. The
next wind from the north-east will blow it away.
A. Why so ?
493.
ON ONE'S OWN TREE. —
A.
No thinker's thoughts give me so much
pleasure as my own: this, of course, proves nothing
in favour of their value; but I should be foolish to
neglect fruits which are tasteful to me only because
they happen to grow on my own tree ! —and I was
once such a fool.
B. Others have the contrary feeling : which like-
wise proves nothing in favour of their thoughts, nor
yet is it any argument against their value.
494.
THE LAST ARGUMENT OF THE BRAVE MAN. -
There are snakes in this little clump of trees.
Very well, I will rush into the thicket and kill them.
-But by doing that you will run the risk of falling
a victim to them, and not they to you. —But what
do I matter?
495.
OUR TEACHERS. —During our period of youth
we select our teachers and guides from our own
times, and from those circles which we happen to
meet with : we have the thoughtless conviction that
the present age must have teachers who will suit
## p. 345 (#492) ############################################
344
THE DAWN OF DAY.
accept your evidence. Those' petty truths'—you
deem them petty because you have not paid for
them with your blood ! ”—But are they really great,
simply because they have been bought at so high a
price? and blood is always too high a price ! -“Do
you really think so ? How stingy you are with your
blood! ”
491.
SOLITUDE, THEREFORE !
A. So you wish to go back to your desert ?
B. I am not a quick thinker; I must wait for
myself a long time—it is always later and later
before the water from the fountain of my own ego
spurts forth, and I have often to go thirsty longer
than suits my patience. That is why I retire into
solitude in order that I may not have to drink from
the common cisterns. When I live in the midst
of the multitude my life is like theirs, and I do not
think like myself; but after some time it always
seems to me as if the multitude wished to banish
me from myself, and to rob me of my soul. Then
I get angry with all these people, and afraid of them;
and I must have the desert to become well disposed
again.
492.
UNDER THE South WIND. —
A. I can no longer understand myself! It was
only yesterday that I felt myself so tempestuous and
ardent, and at the same time so warm and sunny
and exceptionally bright! but to-day! Now
everything is calm, wide, oppressive, and dark like
the lagoon at Venice. I wish for nothing, and
## p. 345 (#493) ############################################
THE DAWN OF DAY.
345
draw a deep breath, and yet I feel inwardly in-
dignant at this “ wish for nothing”-so the waves
rise and fall in the ocean of my melancholy.
B. You describe a petty, agreeable illness. The
next wind from the north-east will blow it away.
A. Why so ?
493.
ON ONE'S OWN TREE. -
A. No thinker's thoughts give me so much
pleasure as my own: this, of course, proves nothing
in favour of their value; but I should be foolish to
neglect fruits which are tasteful to me only because
they happen to grow on my own tree ! —and I was
once such a fool.
B. Others have the contrary feeling: which like-
wise proves nothing in favour of their thoughts, nor
yet is it any argument against their value.
494.
THE LAST ARGUMENT OF THE BRAVE MAN. -
There are snakes in this little clump of trees. -
Very well, I will rush into the thicket and kill them.
-But by doing that you will run the risk of falling
a victim to them, and not they to you. —But what
do I matter ?
495.
OUR TEACHERS. -During our period of youth
we select our teachers and guides from our own
times, and from those circles which we happen to
meet with : we have the thoughtless conviction that
the present age must have teachers who will suit
## p. 345 (#494) ############################################
344
THE DAWN OF DAY.
accept your evidence. Those' petty truths'—you
deem them petty because you have not paid for
them with your blood ! ”—But are they really great,
simply because they have been bought at so high a
price? and blood is always too high a price ! -"Do
you really think so ? How stingy you are with your
blood ! ”
491.
SOLITUDE, THEREFORE !
A. So you wish to go back to your desert ?
B. I am not a quick thinker; I must wait for
myself a long time—it is always later and later
before the water from the fountain of my own ego
spurts forth, and I have often to go thirsty longer
than suits my patience. That is why I retire into
solitude in order that I may not have to drink from
the common cisterns. When I live in the midst
of the multitude my life is like theirs, and I do not
think like myself; but after some time it always
seems to me as if the multitude wished to banish
me from myself, and to rob me of my soul. Then
I get angry with all these people, and afraid of them;
and I must have the desert to become well disposed
again.
492.
UNDER THE SOUTH WIND. -
A. I can no longer understand myself! It was
ardent, and at the same time so warm and sunny
and exceptionally bright! but to-day! Now
everything is calm, wide, oppressive, and dark like
the lagoon at Venice. I wish for nothing, and
## p. 345 (#495) ############################################
· THE DAWN OF DAY.
345
draw a deep breath, and yet I feel inwardly in-
dignant at this “wish for nothing”—so the waves
rise and fall in the ocean of my melancholy.
B. You describe a petty, agreeable illness. The
next wind from the north-east will blow it away.
A. Why so ?
493.
ON ONE'S OWN TREE. —
A. No thinker's thoughts give me so much
pleasure as my own: this, of course, proves nothing
in favour of their value; but I should be foolish to
neglect fruits which are tasteful to me only because
they happen to grow on my own tree and I was
once such a fool.
B. Others have the contrary feeling: which like-
wise proves nothing in favour of their thoughts, nor
yet is it any argument against their value.
494.
THE LAST ARGUMENT OF THE BRAVE MAN. -
There are snakes in this little clump of trees. -
Very well, I will rush into the thicket and kill them.
-But by doing that you will run the risk of falling
a victim to them, and not they to you. —But what
do I matter?
495.
OUR TEACHERS. —During our period of youth
we select our teachers and guides from our own
times, and from those circles which we happen to
meet with : we have the thoughtless conviction that
the present age must have teachers who will suit
## p. 345 (#496) ############################################
344
THE DAWN OF DAY.
accept your evidence. Those' petty truths'--you
deem them petty because you have not paid for
them with your blood ! ”—But are they really great,
simply because they have been bought at so high a
price? and blood is always too high a price ! —“Do
you really think so ? How stingy you are with your
blood ! ”
491.
SOLITUDE, THEREFORE ! -
A. So you wish to go back to your desert ?
B. I am not a quick thinker; I must wait for
myself a long time—it is always later and later
before the water from the fountain of my own ego
spurts forth, and I have often to go thirsty longer
than suits my patience. That is why I retire into
solitude in order that I may not have to drink from
the common cisterns. When I live in the midst
of the multitude my life is like theirs, and I do not
think like myself; but after some time it always
seems to me as if the multitude wished to banish
me from myself, and to rob me of my soul. Then
I get angry with all these people, and afraid of them;
and I must have the desert to become well disposed
again.
492.
UNDER THE SOUTH WIND. -
A. I can no longer understand myself! It was
only yesterday that I felt myself so tempestuous and
ardent, and at the same time so warm and sunny
and exceptionally bright! but to-day! Now
everything is calm, wide, oppressive, and dark like
the lagoon at Venice. I wish for nothing, and
## p. 345 (#497) ############################################
· THE DAWN OF DAY.
345
draw a deep breath, and yet I feel inwardly in-
dignant at this “ wish for nothing”-so the waves
rise and fall in the ocean of my melancholy.
B. You describe a petty, agreeable illness. The
next wind from the north-east will blow it away.
A. Why so ?
493.
ON ONE'S OWN TREE. —
A. No thinker's thoughts give me so much
pleasure as my own: this, of course, proves nothing
in favour of their value; but I should be foolish to
neglect fruits which are tasteful to me only because
they happen to grow on my own tree ! —and I was
once such a fool.
B. Others have the contrary feeling: which like-
wise proves nothing in favour of their thoughts, nor
yet is it any argument against their value.
494.
THE LAST ARGUMENT OF THE BRAVE MAN. -
There are snakes in this little clump of trees. -
Very well, I will rush into the thicket and kill them.
—But by doing that you will run the risk of falling
a victim to them, and not they to you. —But what
do I matter?
495.
OUR TEACHERS. —During our period of youth
we select our teachers and guides from our own
times, and from those circles which we happen to
meet with : we have the thoughtless conviction that
the present age must have teachers who will suit
## p. 346 (#498) ############################################
346
THE DAWN OF DAY.
us better than any others, and that we are sure to
find them without having to look very far. Later
on we find that we have to pay a heavy penalty
for this childishness: we have to expiate our teachers
in ourselves, and then perhaps we begin to look for
the proper guides. We look for them throughout
the whole world, including even present and past
ages--but perhaps it may be too late, and at the
worst we discover that they lived when we were
young—and that at that time we lost our op-
portunity.
496.
THE EVIL PRINCIPLE. —Plato has marvellously
described how the philosophic thinker must neces-
sarily be regarded as the essence of depravity in
the midst of every existing society : for as the critic
of all its morals he is naturally the antagonist of
the moral man, and, unless he succeeds in becoming
the legislator of new morals, he lives long in the
memory of men as an instance of the “evil principle. "
From this we may judge to how great an extent
the city of Athens, although fairly liberal and fond
of innovations, abused the reputation of Plato during
his lifetime. What wonder then that he—who, as
he has himself recorded, had the “political instinct "
in his body—made three different attempts in
Sicily, where at that time a united Mediterranean
Greek State appeared to be in process of formation ?
It was in this State, and with its assistance, that
Plato thought he could do for the Greeks what
Mohammed did for the Arabs several centuries later:
viz. establishing both minor and more important
## p. 347 (#499) ############################################
THE DAWN OF DAY. 347
customs, and especially regulating the daily life of
every man. His ideas were quite practicable just
as certainly as those of Mohammed were practic-
able; for even much more incredible ideas, those
of Christianity, proved themselves to be practicable!
a few hazards less and a few hazards more—
and then the world would have witnessed the
Platonisation of Southern Europe; and, if we
suppose that this state of things had continued to
our own days, we should probably be worshipping
Plato now as the " good principle. " But he was un-
successful, and so his traditional character remains
that of a dreamer and a Utopian—stronger epithets
than these passed away with ancient Athens.
497-
The Purifying Eye. —We have the best reason
for speaking of "genius" in men—for example,
Plato, Spinoza, and Goethe—whose minds appear
to be but loosely linked to their character and
temperament, like winged beings which easily
separate themselves from them, and then rise far
above them. On the other hand, those who never
succeeded in cutting themselves loose from their
temperament, and who knew how to give to it the
most intellectual, lofty, and at times even cosmic
expression (Schopenhauer, for instance) have always
been very fond of speaking about their genius.
These geniuses could not rise above themselves,
but they believed that, fly where they would, they
would always find and recover themselves—this is
their " greatness," and this can be greatness ! —The
r
## p. 348 (#500) ############################################
348 THE DAWN OF DAY.
others who are entitled to this name possess the
pure and purifying eye which does not seem to have
sprung out of their temperament and character, but
separately from them, and generally in contradic-
tion to them, and looks out upon the world as on a
God whom it loves. But even people like these do
not come into possession of such an eye all at once:
they require practice and a preliminary school of
sight, and he who is really fortunate will at the right
moment also fall in with a teacher of pure sight.
493-
Never Demand :—You do not know him! it
b true that he easily and readily submits both to
men and things, and that he is kind to both—his
only wish b to be left in peace—but only in so far
as men and things do not demand his submission.
Any demand makes him proud. bashful . and warlike.
499-
THE Evil One. —f Only the solitary are evil! "
—thus spake Diderot, and Rocsseau at once felt
deeply offended. Thus he proved that Diderot was
right. Indeed. Li society, cr amid social life, every
evil instinct b compelled to restrain itself, to assume
so many masks, and to press itself so often into the
Procrustean bed of virtue, that we are quite Justified
in speaking of the martyrdom of the evil man. In
solitude, however, all this disappears. The evil man
b still more evil in sclirude—and consequently for
htm whose eye sees only a drama everywhere he is
also more beautiful
## p. 349 (#501) ############################################
THE DAWN OF DAY. 349
500.
Against the Grain. —A thinker may for years
at a time force himself to think against the grain:
that is, not to pursue the thoughts that spring up
within him, but, instead,those which he is compelled
to follow by the exigencies of his office, an estab-
lished division of time, or any arbitrary duty which
he may find it necessary to fulfil. In the long run,
however, he will fall ill; for this apparently moral
self-command will destroy his nervous system as
thoroughly and completely as regular debauchery.
501.
MORTal SOuls. —Where knowledge is con-
cerned perhaps the most useful conquest that has
ever been made is the abandonment of the belief in
the immortality of the soul. Humanity is hence-
forth at liberty to wait: men need no longer be in
a hurry to swallow badly-tested ideas as they had to
do in former times. For in those times the salvation
of this poor " immortal soul" depended upon the
extent of the knowledge which could be acquired
in the course of a short existence: decisions had to
be reached from one day to another, and "know-
ledge" was a matter of dreadful importance!
Now we have acquired good courage for errors,
experiments, and the provisional acceptance of ideas
—all this is not so very important!
monies for something non-existent also?
475-
Becoming Heavy. —You know him not: what-
ever weights he may attach to himself he will
nevertheless be able to raise them all with him.
But you, judging from the weak flapping of your
own wings, come to the conclusion that he wishes
to remain below, merely because he does burden
himself with those weights.
476.
At the Harvest Thanksgiving of the
INTELLECT. —There is a daily increase and ac-
cumulation of experiences, events, opinions upon
these experiences and events, and dreams upon
these opinions—a boundless and delightful display
of wealth! its aspect dazzles the eyes: I can no
longer understand how the poor in spirit can be
called blessed! Occasionally, however, I envy
them when I am tired: for the superintendence of
such vast wealth is no easy task, and its weight
frequently crushes all happiness. —Alas, if only the
## p. 337 (#481) ############################################
THE DAWN OF DAY:
337
mere sight of it were sufficient! If only we could
be misers of our knowledge !
477.
FREED FROM SCEPTICISM. —
A. Some men emerge from a general moral
scepticism bad-tempered and feeble, corroded,
worm-eaten, and even partly consumed—but I on
the other hand, more courageous and healthier than
ever, and with my instincts conquered once more.
Where a strong wind blows, where the waves are
rolling angrily, and where more than usual danger
is to be faced, there I feel happy. I did not
become a worm, although I often had to work and
dig like a worm.
B. You have just ceased to be a sceptic; for
you deny !
A. And in doing so I have learnt to say yea
again.
478.
LET US PASS BY. -Spare him! Leave him in
his solitude ! Do you wish to crush him down
entirely? He became cracked like a glass into
which some hot liquid was poured suddenly—and
he was such a precious glass !
479.
LOVE AND TRUTHFULNESS. Through our love
we have become dire offenders against truth, and
even habitual dissimulators and thieves, who give
## p. 338 (#482) ############################################
333 THE DAWN OF DAY.
out more things as true than seem to us to be
true. On this account the thinker must from time
to time drive away those whom he loves (not
necessarily those who love him), so that they may
show their sting and wickedness, and cease to
tempt him. Consequently the kindness of the
thinker will have its waning and waxing moon.
480.
Inevitable. —No matter what your experience
may be, any one who does not feel well disposed
towards you will find in this experience some pre-
text for disparaging you! You may undergo the
greatest possible revolutions of mind and know-
ledge, and at length, with the melancholy smile of
the convalescent, you may be able to step out into
freedom and bright stillness, and yet some one will
say: "This fellow looks upon his illness as an
argument, and takes his impotence to be a proof
of the impotence of all others—he is vain enough
to fall ill that he may feel the superiority of the
sufferer. " And again, if somebody were to break
the chains that bound him down, and wounded
himself severely in doing so, some one else would
point at him mockingly and cry: "How awkward
he is! there is a man who had got accustomed to
his chains, and yet he is fool enough to burst them
asunder! "
481.
Two GERMANS—If we compare Kant and
Schopenhauer with Plato, Spinoza, Pascal, Rous-
seau, and Goethe, with reference to their souls
## p. 339 (#483) ############################################
THE DAWN OF DAY. 339
and not their intellects, we shall see that the two
first-named thinkers are at a disadvantage: their
thoughts do not constitute a passionate history of
their souls—we are not led to expect in them
romance, crises, catastrophies, or death struggles.
Their thinking is not at the same time the in-
voluntary biography of a soul, but in the case of
Kant merely of a head; and in the case of
Schopenhauer again merely the description and
reflection of a character (" the invariable ") and the
pleasure which this reflection causes, that is to say,
the pleasure of meeting with an intellect of the
first order.
Kant, when he shimmers through his thoughts,
appears to us as an honest and honourable man
in the best sense of the words, but likewise as an
insignificant one: he is wanting in breadth and
power; he had not come through many experi-
ences, and his method of working did not allow
him sufficient time to undergo experiences. Of
course, in speaking of experiences, I do not refer
to the ordinary external events of life, but to those
fatalities and convulsions which occur in the course
of the most solitary and quiet life which has some
leisure and glows with the passion for thinking.
Schopenhauer has at all events one advantage over
him; for he at least was distinguished by a certain
fierce ugliness of disposition, which showed itself in
hatred, desire, vanity, and suspicion: he was of a
rather more ferocious disposition, and had both
time and leisure to indulge this ferocity. But he
lacked "development," which was also wanting in
his range of thought: he had no "history. "
## p. 340 (#484) ############################################
34°
THE DAWN OF DAY.
482.
Seeking one's Company. —Are we then look-
ing for too much when we seek the company of
men who have grown mild, agreeable to the taste,
and nutritive, like chestnuts which have been put
into the fire and taken out just at the right
moment? Of men who expect little from life, and
prefer to accept this little as a present rather than
as a merit of their own, as if it were carried to them
by birds and bees? Of men who are too proud
ever to feel themselves rewarded, and too serious
in their passion for knowledge and honesty to have
time for or pleasure in fame? Such men we
should call philosophers; but they themselves will
always find some more modest designation.
483-
Satiated with Mankind. —
A. Seek for knowledge! Yes ■ but always as a
man! What? must I always be a spectator of the
same comedy, and always play a part in the same
comedy, without ever being able to observe things
with other eyes than those? and yet there may be
countless types of beings whose organs are better
adapted for knowledge than ours! At the end of
all their searching for knowledge what will men
at length come to know? Their organs! which
perhaps is as much as to say: the impossibility of
knowledge' misery and disgust!
B. This is a bad attack you have—reason is
attacking you! to-morrow, however, you will again
## p. 341 (#485) ############################################
THE DAWN OF DAY. 341
be in the midst of knowledge, and hence of irra-
tionality—that is to say, delighted about all that
is human. Let us go to the sea!
484.
Going our own Way. —When we take the
decisive step, and make up our minds to follow
our own path, a secret is suddenly revealed to us:
it is clear that all those who had hitherto been
friendly to us and on intimate terms with us judged
themselves to be superior to us, and are offended
now. The best among them are indulgent, and
are content to wait patiently until we once more
find the "right path "—they know it, apparently.
Others make fun of us, and pretend that we have
been seized with a temporary attack of mild in-
sanity, or spitefully point out some seducer. The
more malicious say we are vain fools, and do their
best to blacken our motives; while the worst of all
see in us their greatest enemy, some one who is
thirsting for revenge after many years of depend-
ence,—and are afraid of us. What, then, are we
to do? My own opinion is that we should begin
our sovereignty by promising to all our acquaint-
ances in advance a whole year's amnesty for sins
of every kind.
485.
Far-off Perspectives. —
A. But why this solitude?
B. I am not angry with anybody. But when
I am alone it seems to me that I can see my
friends in a clearer and rosier light than when I
## p. 342 (#486) ############################################
34^ THE DAWX OF DAY.
am with them; and when I loved and felt music
best I lived far from it. It would seem that I
most have distant perspectives in order that I
may think well of things.
486.
GOLD AND Hunger. —Here and there we
meet with a man who changes into gold everything
that he touches. But some fine evil day he will
discover that he himself must starve through this
gift of his. Everything around him is brilliant,
superb, and unapproachable in its ideal beauty,
and now he eagerly longs for things which it is
impossible for him to turn into gold and how
intense is this longing! like that of a starving man
for a meal! Query: What will he seize?
487.
Shame. —Look at that noble steed pawing the
ground, snorting, longing for a ride, and loving its
accustomed rider—but, shameful to relate, the rider
cannot mount to-day. he is tired. —Such is the
shame felt by the weary thinker in the presence
of his own philosophy '.
488.
Against the Waste of Love. —Do we not
blush when we surprise ourselves in a state of
violent aversion? Well, then, we should also blush
when we find ourselves possessed of strong affections
onaccount of the injustice contained in them. More:
## p. 343 (#487) ############################################
THE DAWN OF DAY. 343
there are people who feel their hearts weighed down
and oppressedwhen some one gives them the benefit
of his love and sympathy to the extent that he
deprives others of a share. The tone of his voice
reveals to us the fact that we have been specially
selected and preferred ! but, alas! I am not thankful
for being thus selected: I experience within myself
a certain feeling of resentment against him who
wishes to distinguish me in this way—he shall not
love me at the expense of others! I shall always
try to look after myself and to endure myself, and
my heart is often filled to overflowing, and with
some reason. To such a man nothing ought to be
given of which others stand so greatly in need.
489.
Friends in Need. —We may occasionally
remark that one of our friends sympathises with
another more than with us. His delicacy is troubled
thereby, and his selfishness is not equal to the task
of breaking down his feelings of affection: in such
a case we should facilitate the separation for him,
and estrange him in some way in order to widen
the distance between us. —This is also necessary
when we fall into a habit of thinking which might
be detrimental to him: our affection for him
should induce us to ease his conscience in separating
himself from us by means of some injustice which
we voluntarily take upon ourselves.
490.
Those petty Truths. —" You know all that,
but you have never lived through it—so I will not
s■
## p. 344 (#488) ############################################
344 THE DAWN OF DAY.
accept your evidence. Those' petty truths'—you
deem them petty because yon have not paid for
them with your blood ! "—But are they really great,
simply because they have been bought at so high a
price? and blood is always too high a price! —** Do
you really think so? How stingy you are with your
blood:"
491.
Solitude, therefore ! —
A. So you wish to go back to your desert?
B. I am not a quick thinker; I must wait for
myself a long time—it is always later and later
before the water from the fountain of my own ego
spurts forth, and I have often to go thirsty longer
than suits my patience That is why I retire into
solitude in order that I may not have to drink from
the common cisterns. When I live in the midst
of the multitude my life is like theirs, and I do not
think like myself; but after some time it always
seems to me as if the multitude wished to banish
me from myself, and to rob me of my soul. Then
I get angry with all these people, and afraid of them;
and I must have the desert to become well disposed
again.
492.
Under the South Wind. —
A. I can no longer understand myself! It was
only yesterday that I felt myself so tempestuous and
ardent, and at the same time so warm and sunny
and exceptionally bright! but to-day! Now
everything is calm, wide, oppressive, and dark like
the lagoon at Venice. I wish for nothing, and
## p. 345 (#489) ############################################
THE DAWN OF DAY. 345
draw a deep breath, and yet I feel inwardly in-
dignant at this "wish for nothing "—so the waves
rise and fall in the ocean of my melancholy.
B. You describe a petty, agreeable illness. The
next wind from the north-east will blow it away.
A. Why so?
493-
On One's own Tree. —
A. No thinker's thoughts give me so much
pleasure as my own: this, of course, proves nothing
in favour of their value; but I should be foolish to
neglect fruits which are tasteful to me only because
they happen to grow on my own tree ! —and I was
once such a fool.
B. Others have the contrary feeling: which like-
wise proves nothing in favour of their thoughts, nor
yet is it any argument against their value.
494-
The Last Argument of the Brave Man. —
There are snakes in this little clump of trees. —
Very well, I will rush into the thicket and kill them.
—But by doing that you will run the risk of falling
a victim to them, and not they to you. —But what
do I matter?
495-
OUR Teachers. —During our period of youth
we select our teachers and guides from our own
times, and from those circles which we happen to
meet with: we have the thoughtless conviction that
the present age must have teachers who will suit
## p. 345 (#490) ############################################
344
THE DAWN OF DAY.
accept your evidence. Those 'petty truths'—you
deem them petty because you have not paid for
them with your blood ! ”—But are they really great,
simply because they have been bought at so high a
price? and blood is always too high a price ! —“Do
you really think so ? How stingy you are with your
blood ! "
491.
SOLITUDE, THEREFORE ! -
A. So you wish to go back to your desert ?
B. I am not a quick thinker; I must wait for
myself a long time—it is always later and later
before the water from the fountain of my own ego
spurts forth, and I have often to go thirsty longer
than suits my patience. That is why I retire into
solitude in order that I may not have to drink from
the common cisterns. When I live in the midst
of the multitude my life is like theirs, and I do not
think like myself; but after some time it always
seems to me as if the multitude wished to banish
me from myself, and to rob me of my soul. Then
I get angry with all these people, and afraid of them;
and I must have the desert to become well disposed
again.
492.
UNDER THE South WIND. -
A. I can no longer understand myself! It was
only yesterday that I felt myself so tempestuous and
ardent, and at the same time so warm and sunny
and exceptionally bright! but to-day! Now
everything is calm, wide, oppressive, and dark like
the lagoon at Venice. I wish for nothing, and
## p. 345 (#491) ############################################
THE DAWN OF DAY.
345
draw a deep breath, and yet I feel inwardly in-
dignant at this “wish for nothing"--so the waves
rise and fall in the ocean of my melancholy.
B. You describe a petty, agreeable illness. The
next wind from the north-east will blow it away.
A. Why so ?
493.
ON ONE'S OWN TREE. —
A.
No thinker's thoughts give me so much
pleasure as my own: this, of course, proves nothing
in favour of their value; but I should be foolish to
neglect fruits which are tasteful to me only because
they happen to grow on my own tree ! —and I was
once such a fool.
B. Others have the contrary feeling : which like-
wise proves nothing in favour of their thoughts, nor
yet is it any argument against their value.
494.
THE LAST ARGUMENT OF THE BRAVE MAN. -
There are snakes in this little clump of trees.
Very well, I will rush into the thicket and kill them.
-But by doing that you will run the risk of falling
a victim to them, and not they to you. —But what
do I matter?
495.
OUR TEACHERS. —During our period of youth
we select our teachers and guides from our own
times, and from those circles which we happen to
meet with : we have the thoughtless conviction that
the present age must have teachers who will suit
## p. 345 (#492) ############################################
344
THE DAWN OF DAY.
accept your evidence. Those' petty truths'—you
deem them petty because you have not paid for
them with your blood ! ”—But are they really great,
simply because they have been bought at so high a
price? and blood is always too high a price ! -“Do
you really think so ? How stingy you are with your
blood! ”
491.
SOLITUDE, THEREFORE !
A. So you wish to go back to your desert ?
B. I am not a quick thinker; I must wait for
myself a long time—it is always later and later
before the water from the fountain of my own ego
spurts forth, and I have often to go thirsty longer
than suits my patience. That is why I retire into
solitude in order that I may not have to drink from
the common cisterns. When I live in the midst
of the multitude my life is like theirs, and I do not
think like myself; but after some time it always
seems to me as if the multitude wished to banish
me from myself, and to rob me of my soul. Then
I get angry with all these people, and afraid of them;
and I must have the desert to become well disposed
again.
492.
UNDER THE South WIND. —
A. I can no longer understand myself! It was
only yesterday that I felt myself so tempestuous and
ardent, and at the same time so warm and sunny
and exceptionally bright! but to-day! Now
everything is calm, wide, oppressive, and dark like
the lagoon at Venice. I wish for nothing, and
## p. 345 (#493) ############################################
THE DAWN OF DAY.
345
draw a deep breath, and yet I feel inwardly in-
dignant at this “ wish for nothing”-so the waves
rise and fall in the ocean of my melancholy.
B. You describe a petty, agreeable illness. The
next wind from the north-east will blow it away.
A. Why so ?
493.
ON ONE'S OWN TREE. -
A. No thinker's thoughts give me so much
pleasure as my own: this, of course, proves nothing
in favour of their value; but I should be foolish to
neglect fruits which are tasteful to me only because
they happen to grow on my own tree ! —and I was
once such a fool.
B. Others have the contrary feeling: which like-
wise proves nothing in favour of their thoughts, nor
yet is it any argument against their value.
494.
THE LAST ARGUMENT OF THE BRAVE MAN. -
There are snakes in this little clump of trees. -
Very well, I will rush into the thicket and kill them.
-But by doing that you will run the risk of falling
a victim to them, and not they to you. —But what
do I matter ?
495.
OUR TEACHERS. -During our period of youth
we select our teachers and guides from our own
times, and from those circles which we happen to
meet with : we have the thoughtless conviction that
the present age must have teachers who will suit
## p. 345 (#494) ############################################
344
THE DAWN OF DAY.
accept your evidence. Those' petty truths'—you
deem them petty because you have not paid for
them with your blood ! ”—But are they really great,
simply because they have been bought at so high a
price? and blood is always too high a price ! -"Do
you really think so ? How stingy you are with your
blood ! ”
491.
SOLITUDE, THEREFORE !
A. So you wish to go back to your desert ?
B. I am not a quick thinker; I must wait for
myself a long time—it is always later and later
before the water from the fountain of my own ego
spurts forth, and I have often to go thirsty longer
than suits my patience. That is why I retire into
solitude in order that I may not have to drink from
the common cisterns. When I live in the midst
of the multitude my life is like theirs, and I do not
think like myself; but after some time it always
seems to me as if the multitude wished to banish
me from myself, and to rob me of my soul. Then
I get angry with all these people, and afraid of them;
and I must have the desert to become well disposed
again.
492.
UNDER THE SOUTH WIND. -
A. I can no longer understand myself! It was
ardent, and at the same time so warm and sunny
and exceptionally bright! but to-day! Now
everything is calm, wide, oppressive, and dark like
the lagoon at Venice. I wish for nothing, and
## p. 345 (#495) ############################################
· THE DAWN OF DAY.
345
draw a deep breath, and yet I feel inwardly in-
dignant at this “wish for nothing”—so the waves
rise and fall in the ocean of my melancholy.
B. You describe a petty, agreeable illness. The
next wind from the north-east will blow it away.
A. Why so ?
493.
ON ONE'S OWN TREE. —
A. No thinker's thoughts give me so much
pleasure as my own: this, of course, proves nothing
in favour of their value; but I should be foolish to
neglect fruits which are tasteful to me only because
they happen to grow on my own tree and I was
once such a fool.
B. Others have the contrary feeling: which like-
wise proves nothing in favour of their thoughts, nor
yet is it any argument against their value.
494.
THE LAST ARGUMENT OF THE BRAVE MAN. -
There are snakes in this little clump of trees. -
Very well, I will rush into the thicket and kill them.
-But by doing that you will run the risk of falling
a victim to them, and not they to you. —But what
do I matter?
495.
OUR TEACHERS. —During our period of youth
we select our teachers and guides from our own
times, and from those circles which we happen to
meet with : we have the thoughtless conviction that
the present age must have teachers who will suit
## p. 345 (#496) ############################################
344
THE DAWN OF DAY.
accept your evidence. Those' petty truths'--you
deem them petty because you have not paid for
them with your blood ! ”—But are they really great,
simply because they have been bought at so high a
price? and blood is always too high a price ! —“Do
you really think so ? How stingy you are with your
blood ! ”
491.
SOLITUDE, THEREFORE ! -
A. So you wish to go back to your desert ?
B. I am not a quick thinker; I must wait for
myself a long time—it is always later and later
before the water from the fountain of my own ego
spurts forth, and I have often to go thirsty longer
than suits my patience. That is why I retire into
solitude in order that I may not have to drink from
the common cisterns. When I live in the midst
of the multitude my life is like theirs, and I do not
think like myself; but after some time it always
seems to me as if the multitude wished to banish
me from myself, and to rob me of my soul. Then
I get angry with all these people, and afraid of them;
and I must have the desert to become well disposed
again.
492.
UNDER THE SOUTH WIND. -
A. I can no longer understand myself! It was
only yesterday that I felt myself so tempestuous and
ardent, and at the same time so warm and sunny
and exceptionally bright! but to-day! Now
everything is calm, wide, oppressive, and dark like
the lagoon at Venice. I wish for nothing, and
## p. 345 (#497) ############################################
· THE DAWN OF DAY.
345
draw a deep breath, and yet I feel inwardly in-
dignant at this “ wish for nothing”-so the waves
rise and fall in the ocean of my melancholy.
B. You describe a petty, agreeable illness. The
next wind from the north-east will blow it away.
A. Why so ?
493.
ON ONE'S OWN TREE. —
A. No thinker's thoughts give me so much
pleasure as my own: this, of course, proves nothing
in favour of their value; but I should be foolish to
neglect fruits which are tasteful to me only because
they happen to grow on my own tree ! —and I was
once such a fool.
B. Others have the contrary feeling: which like-
wise proves nothing in favour of their thoughts, nor
yet is it any argument against their value.
494.
THE LAST ARGUMENT OF THE BRAVE MAN. -
There are snakes in this little clump of trees. -
Very well, I will rush into the thicket and kill them.
—But by doing that you will run the risk of falling
a victim to them, and not they to you. —But what
do I matter?
495.
OUR TEACHERS. —During our period of youth
we select our teachers and guides from our own
times, and from those circles which we happen to
meet with : we have the thoughtless conviction that
the present age must have teachers who will suit
## p. 346 (#498) ############################################
346
THE DAWN OF DAY.
us better than any others, and that we are sure to
find them without having to look very far. Later
on we find that we have to pay a heavy penalty
for this childishness: we have to expiate our teachers
in ourselves, and then perhaps we begin to look for
the proper guides. We look for them throughout
the whole world, including even present and past
ages--but perhaps it may be too late, and at the
worst we discover that they lived when we were
young—and that at that time we lost our op-
portunity.
496.
THE EVIL PRINCIPLE. —Plato has marvellously
described how the philosophic thinker must neces-
sarily be regarded as the essence of depravity in
the midst of every existing society : for as the critic
of all its morals he is naturally the antagonist of
the moral man, and, unless he succeeds in becoming
the legislator of new morals, he lives long in the
memory of men as an instance of the “evil principle. "
From this we may judge to how great an extent
the city of Athens, although fairly liberal and fond
of innovations, abused the reputation of Plato during
his lifetime. What wonder then that he—who, as
he has himself recorded, had the “political instinct "
in his body—made three different attempts in
Sicily, where at that time a united Mediterranean
Greek State appeared to be in process of formation ?
It was in this State, and with its assistance, that
Plato thought he could do for the Greeks what
Mohammed did for the Arabs several centuries later:
viz. establishing both minor and more important
## p. 347 (#499) ############################################
THE DAWN OF DAY. 347
customs, and especially regulating the daily life of
every man. His ideas were quite practicable just
as certainly as those of Mohammed were practic-
able; for even much more incredible ideas, those
of Christianity, proved themselves to be practicable!
a few hazards less and a few hazards more—
and then the world would have witnessed the
Platonisation of Southern Europe; and, if we
suppose that this state of things had continued to
our own days, we should probably be worshipping
Plato now as the " good principle. " But he was un-
successful, and so his traditional character remains
that of a dreamer and a Utopian—stronger epithets
than these passed away with ancient Athens.
497-
The Purifying Eye. —We have the best reason
for speaking of "genius" in men—for example,
Plato, Spinoza, and Goethe—whose minds appear
to be but loosely linked to their character and
temperament, like winged beings which easily
separate themselves from them, and then rise far
above them. On the other hand, those who never
succeeded in cutting themselves loose from their
temperament, and who knew how to give to it the
most intellectual, lofty, and at times even cosmic
expression (Schopenhauer, for instance) have always
been very fond of speaking about their genius.
These geniuses could not rise above themselves,
but they believed that, fly where they would, they
would always find and recover themselves—this is
their " greatness," and this can be greatness ! —The
r
## p. 348 (#500) ############################################
348 THE DAWN OF DAY.
others who are entitled to this name possess the
pure and purifying eye which does not seem to have
sprung out of their temperament and character, but
separately from them, and generally in contradic-
tion to them, and looks out upon the world as on a
God whom it loves. But even people like these do
not come into possession of such an eye all at once:
they require practice and a preliminary school of
sight, and he who is really fortunate will at the right
moment also fall in with a teacher of pure sight.
493-
Never Demand :—You do not know him! it
b true that he easily and readily submits both to
men and things, and that he is kind to both—his
only wish b to be left in peace—but only in so far
as men and things do not demand his submission.
Any demand makes him proud. bashful . and warlike.
499-
THE Evil One. —f Only the solitary are evil! "
—thus spake Diderot, and Rocsseau at once felt
deeply offended. Thus he proved that Diderot was
right. Indeed. Li society, cr amid social life, every
evil instinct b compelled to restrain itself, to assume
so many masks, and to press itself so often into the
Procrustean bed of virtue, that we are quite Justified
in speaking of the martyrdom of the evil man. In
solitude, however, all this disappears. The evil man
b still more evil in sclirude—and consequently for
htm whose eye sees only a drama everywhere he is
also more beautiful
## p. 349 (#501) ############################################
THE DAWN OF DAY. 349
500.
Against the Grain. —A thinker may for years
at a time force himself to think against the grain:
that is, not to pursue the thoughts that spring up
within him, but, instead,those which he is compelled
to follow by the exigencies of his office, an estab-
lished division of time, or any arbitrary duty which
he may find it necessary to fulfil. In the long run,
however, he will fall ill; for this apparently moral
self-command will destroy his nervous system as
thoroughly and completely as regular debauchery.
501.
MORTal SOuls. —Where knowledge is con-
cerned perhaps the most useful conquest that has
ever been made is the abandonment of the belief in
the immortality of the soul. Humanity is hence-
forth at liberty to wait: men need no longer be in
a hurry to swallow badly-tested ideas as they had to
do in former times. For in those times the salvation
of this poor " immortal soul" depended upon the
extent of the knowledge which could be acquired
in the course of a short existence: decisions had to
be reached from one day to another, and "know-
ledge" was a matter of dreadful importance!
Now we have acquired good courage for errors,
experiments, and the provisional acceptance of ideas
—all this is not so very important!
