Woe unto all loving ones who
have not an elevation which is
above their pity!
have not an elevation which is
above their pity!
Nietzsche - v11 - Thus Spake Zarathustra
The angels them-
selves melt into tears through the over-graciousness
of thy smiling.
Thy graciousness and over-graciousness, is it,
which will not complain and weep: and yet, O
my soul, longeth thy smiling for tears, and thy
trembling mouth for sobs.
“Is not all weeping complaining? And all com-
plaining, accusing ? ” Thus speakest thou to thyself;
## p. 274 (#396) ############################################
274
THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, III.
and therefore, O my soul, wilt thou rather smile
than pour forth thy grief-
-Than in gushing tears pour forth all thy grief
concerning thy fulness, and concerning the craving
of the vine for the vintager and vintage-knife!
But wilt thou not weep, wilt thou not weep forth
thy purple melancholy, then wilt thou have to sing,
O my soul ! -Behold, I smile myself, who foretell
thee this :
– Thou wilt have to sing with passionate song,
until all seas turn calm to hearken unto thy
longing,
-Until over calm longing seas the bark glideth,
the golden marvel, around the gold of which all
good, bad, and marvellous things frisk :-
-Also many large and small animals, and every-
thing that hath light marvellous feet, so that it can
run on violet-blue paths,-
-Towards the golden marvel, the spontaneous
bark, and its master : he, however, is the vintager
who waiteth with the diamond vintage-knife,–
-Thy great deliverer, O my soul, the nameless
one- -for whom future songs only will find
names ! And verily, already hath thy breath the
fragrance of future songs,-
--Already glowest thou and dreamest, already
drinkest thou thirstily at all deep echoing wells of
consolation, already reposeth thy melancholy in the
bliss of future songs ! - -
O my soul, now have I given thee all, and even
my last possession, and all my hands have become
empty by thee :—that I bade thee sing, behold, that
was my last thing to give !
## p. 275 (#397) ############################################
LVIII. --THE GREAT LONGING.
275
That I bade thee sing, say now, say: which of
us now-oweth thanks ? -Better still, however :
sing unto me, sing, O my soul! And let me thank
thee ! -
Thus spake Zarathustra.
LIX. —THE SECOND DANCE SONG.
"Into thine eyes gazed I lately, O Life: gold
saw I gleam in thy night eyes,—my heart stood
still with delight:
-A golden bark saw I gleam on darkened waters,
a sinking, drinking, reblinking, golden swing-bark !
At my dance-frantic foot, dost thou cast a glance,
a laughing, questioning, melting, thrown glance:
Twice only movedst thou thy rattle with thy
little hands--then did my feet swing with dance-
fury. -
My heels reared aloft, my toes they hearkened, -
thee they would know : hath not the dancer his
ear—in his toe!
Unto thee did I spring: then fledst thou back
from my bound; and towards me waved thy
fleeing, flying tresses round !
Away from thee did I spring, and from thy
snaky tresses: then stoodst thou there half-turned,
and in thine eye caresses.
With crooked glances—dost thou teach me
crooked courses ; on crooked courses learn my feet
-crafty fancies !
I fear thee near, I love thee far; thy Aight
## p. 276 (#398) ############################################
276 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, III.
allureth me, thy seeking secureth me:—I suffer,
but for thee, what would I not gladly bear!
For thee, whose coldness inflameth, whose hatred
misleadeth, whose flight enchaineth, whose mockery
—pleadeth:
—Who would not hate thee, thou great bindress,
inwindress, temptress, seekress, findress! Who
would not love thee, thou innocent, impatient,
wind-swift, child-eyed sfnner!
Whither pullest thou me now, thou paragon and
tomboy? And now foolest thou me fleeing; thou
sweet romp dost annoy!
I dance after thee, I follow even faint traces
lonely. Where art thou? Give me thy hand!
Or thy finger only!
Here are caves and thickets: we shall go astray!
—Halt! Stand still! Seest thou not owls and
bats in fluttering fray?
Thou bat! Thou owl! Thou wouldst play me
foul? Where are we? From the dogs hast thou
learned thus to bark and howl.
Thou gnashest on me sweetly with little white
teeth; thine evil eyes shoot out upon me, thy curly
little mane from underneath!
This is a dance over stock and stone: I am the
hunter,—wilt thou be my hound, or my chamois
anon?
Now beside me! And quickly, wickedly spring-
ing! Now up! And over! —Alas! I have fallen
myself overswinging!
Oh, see me lying, thou arrogant one, and imploring
grace! Gladly would I walk with thee—in some
lovelier place!
## p. 277 (#399) ############################################
LIX. —THE SECOND DANCE SONG. 277
—In the paths of love, through bushes variegated,
quiet, trim! Or there along the lake, where gold-
fishes dance and swim!
Thou art now a-weary? There above are sheep
and sunset stripes: is it not sweet to sleep—the
shepherd pipes?
Thou art so very weary? I carry thee thither;
let just thine arm sink! And art thou thirsty—
I should have something; but thy mouth would
not like it to drink ! —
—Oh, that cursed, nimble, supple serpent and
lurking-witch! Where art thou gone? But in
my face do I feel through thy hand, two spots and
red blotches itch!
I am verily weary of it, ever thy sheepish shep-
herd to be. Thou witch, if I have hitherto sung
unto thee, now shalt thou—cry unto me!
To the rhythm of my whip shalt thou dance and
cry! I forget not my whip ? —Not I ! "—
Then did Life answer me thus, and kept thereby
her fine ears closed:
"O Zarathustra! Crack not so terribly with
thy whip! Thou knowest surely that noise killeth
thought,—and just now there came to me such
delicate thoughts.
We are both of us genuine ne'er-do-wells and
ne'er-do-ills. Beyond good and evil found we our
island and our green meadow—we two alone!
Therefore must we be friendly to each other!
And even should we not love each other from
## p. 278 (#400) ############################################
278
THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, III.
the bottom of our hearts,— must we then have a
grudge against each other if we do not love each
other perfectly?
And that I am friendly to thee, and often too
friendly, that knowest thou : and the reason is that
I am envious of thy Wisdom. Ah, this mad old
fool, Wisdom!
If thy Wisdom should one day run away from
thee, ah! then would also my love run away from
thee quickly. ”—
Thereupon did Life look thoughtfully behind
and around, and said softly: “O Zarathustra, thou
art not faithful enough to me!
Thou lovest me not nearly so much as thou
sayest; I know thou thinkest of soon leaving me.
There is an old heavy, heavy, booming-clock : it
boometh by night up to thy cave :-
-When thou hearest this clock strike the hours
at midnight, then thinkest thou between one and
twelve thereon-
- Thou thinkest thereon, O Zarathustra, I know
it-of soon leaving me! ”—
“Yea," answered I, hesitatingly, “but thou
knowest it also "-And I said something into her
ear, in amongst her confused, yellow, foolish
tresses.
“Thou knowest that, o Zarathustra ? That
knoweth no one- 2"
And we gazed at each other, and looked at the
green meadow o'er which the cool evening was just
## p. 279 (#401) ############################################
LIX. —THE SECOND DANCE SOMG. 279
passing, and we wept together. —Then, however,
was Life dearer unto me than all my Wisdom
had ever been. -
Thus spake Zarathustra.
30
One!
O man! Take heed !
Two!
What saith deep midnight's voice indeed ?
Three!
“ I slept my sleep-
Four!
“From deepest dream l've woke and plead :-
Five!
“The world is deep,
Six!
“ And deeper than the day could read.
Seven !
“Deep is its woe-
Eight!
"Joy--deeper still than grief can be :
Nine!
“Woe saith : Hence! Go!
## p. 280 (#402) ############################################
280
THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, III.
Ten!
“But joys all want eternity-
Eleven!
“Want deep profound eternity! "
Twelve!
LX. -THE SEVEN SEALS.
(Or the Yea and Amen Lay. )
1.
If I be a diviner and full of the divining spirit
which wandereth on high mountain-ridges, 'twixt
two seas,
Wandereth 'twixt the past and the future as a
heavy cloud-hostile to sultry plains, and to all
that is weary and can neither die nor live:
Ready for lightning in its dark bosom, and for
the redeeming flash of light, charged with light-
nings which say Yea! which laugh Yea! ready for
divining flashes of lightning :-
-Blessed, however, is he who is thus charged !
And verily, long must he hang like a heavy tempest
on the mountain, who shall one day kindle the
light of the future !
Oh, how could I not be ardent for Eternity and
for the marriage-ring of rings—the ring of the
return?
Never yet have I found the woman by whom I
should like to have children, unless it be this woman
whom I love: for I love thee, O Eternity!
For I love thee, O Eternity !
## p. 281 (#403) ############################################
LX. —THE SEVEN SEALS. 281
2.
If ever my wrath hath burst graves, shifted land-
marks, or rolled old shattered tables into precipitous
depths:
If ever my scorn hath scattered mouldered words
to the winds, and if I have come like a besom to
cross-spiders, and as a cleansing wind to old charnel-
houses:
If ever I have sat rejoicing where old Gods lie
buried, world-blessing, world-loving, beside the
monuments of old world-maligners :—
—For even churches and Gods'-graves do I love,
if only heaven looketh through their ruined roofs
with pure eyes; gladly do I sit like grass and red
poppies on ruined churches—
Oh, how could I not be ardent for Eternity, and
for the marriage-ring of rings—the ring of the
return?
Never yet have I found the woman by whom I
should like to have children, unless it be this woman
whom I love: for I love thee, O Eternity!
For I love thee, O Eternity!
3-
If ever a breath hath come to me of the creative
breath, and of the heavenly necessity which com-
pelleth even chances to dance star-dances:
If ever I have laughed with the laughter of the
creative lightning, to which the long thunder of the
deed followeth, grumblingly, but obediently:
If ever I have played dice with the Gods at the
## p. 281 (#404) ############################################
280 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, III.
Ten!
"But joys all want eternity—
Eleven!
"Want deep profound eternity! "
Twelve!
LX. —THE SEVEN SEALS.
(Or the Yea and Amen Lay. )
i.
If I be a diviner and full of the divining spirit
which wandereth on high mountain-ridges, 'twixt
two seas,—
Wandereth 'twixt the past and the future as a
heavy cloud—hostile to sultry plains, and to all
that is weary and can neither die nor live:
Ready for lightning in its dark bosom, and for
the redeeming flash of light, charged with light-
nings which say Yea! which laugh Yea! ready for
divining flashes of lightning :—
—Blessed, however, is he who is thus charged!
And verily, long must he hang like a heavy tempest
on the mountain, who shall one day kindle the
light of the future ! —
Oh, how could I not be ardent for Eternity and
for the marriage-ring of rings—the ring of the
return?
Never yet have I found the woman by whom I
should like to have children, unless it be this woman
whom I love: for I love thee, O Eternity!
For I love thee, 0 Eternity!
^
1
## p. 281 (#405) ############################################
LX. —THE SEVEN SEALS. 281
If ever my wrath hath burst graves, shifted land-
marks, or rolled old shattered tables into precipitous
depths:
If ever my scorn hath scattered mouldered words
to the winds, and if I have come like a besom to
cross-spiders, and as a cleansing wind to old charnel-
houses:
If ever I have sat rejoicing where old Gods lie
buried, world-blessing, world-loving, beside the
monuments of old world-maligners:—
—For even churches and Gods'-graves do I love,
if only heaven looketh through their ruined roofs
with pure eyes; gladly do I sit like grass and red
poppies on ruined churches—
Oh, how could I not be ardent for Eternity, and
for the marriage-ring of rings—the ring of the
return?
Never yet have I found the woman by whom I
should like to have children, unless it be this woman
whom I love: for I love thee, O Eternity!
For I love thee, 0 Eternity!
3-
If ever a breath hath come to me of the creative
breath, and of the heavenly necessity which com-
pelleth even chances to dance star-dances:
If ever I have laughed with the laughter of the
creative lightning, to which the long thunder of the
deed followeth, grumblingly, but obediently:
If ever I have played dice with the Gods at the
## p. 282 (#406) ############################################
282 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, III.
divine table of the earth, so that the earth quaked
and ruptured, and snorted forth fire-streams :—
—For a divine table is the earth, and trembling
with new creative dictums and dice-casts of the
Gods:
Oh, how could I not be ardent for Eternity, and
for the marriage-ring of rings—the ring of the
return?
Never yet have I found the woman by whom I
should like to have children, unless it be this woman
whom I love: for I love thee, O Eternity!
For I love thee, 0 Eternity!
4-
If ever I have drunk a full draught of the foam-
ing spice- and confection-bowl in which all things
are well mixed:
If ever my hand hath mingled the furthest with
the nearest, fire with spirit, joy with sorrow, and
the harshest with the kindest:
If I myself am a grain of the saving salt which
maketh everything in the confection-bowl mix
well:—
—For there is a salt which uniteth good with
evil; and even the evilest is worthy, as spicing and
as final over-foaming :—
Oh, how could I not be ardent for Eternity, and
for the marriage-ring of rings—the ring of the
return?
Never yet have I found the woman by whom 1
should like to have children, unless it be this woman
whom I love: for I love thee, O Eternity!
For I love thee, 0 Eternity!
X
## p. 283 (#407) ############################################
LX. —THE SEVEN SEALS.
283
If I be fond of the sea, and all that is sealike, and
fondest of it when it angrily contradicteth me :
If the exploring delight be in me, which impelleth
sails to the undiscovered, if the seafarer's delight
be in my delight :
If ever my rejoicing hath called out : “ The shore
hath vanished,—now hath fallen from me the last
chain-
The boundless roareth around me, far away
sparkle for me space and time,-well! cheer up!
old heart! ”–
Oh, how could I not be ardent for Eternity, and
for the marriage-ring of rings—the ring of the
return?
Never yet have I found the woman by whom I
should like to have children, unless it be this woman
whom I love : for I love thee, O Eternity!
For I love thee, O Eternity!
If my virtue be a dancer's virtue, and if I have
often sprung with both feet into golden-emerald
rapture :
If my wickedness be a laughing wickedness, at
home among rose-banks and hedges of lilies :
-For in laughter is all evil present, but it is
sanctified and absolved by its own bliss :-
And if it be my Alpha and Omega that every-
thing heavy shall become light, every body a
dancer, and every spirit a bird : and verily, that is
my Alpha and Omega !
## p. 284 (#408) ############################################
284
THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, III.
THUS SPA
Oh, how could I not be ardent for Eternity, and
for the marriage-ring of rings—the ring of the
return?
Never yet have I found the woman by whom I
should like to have children, unless it be this woman
whom I love: for I love thee, O Eternity!
For I love thee, O Eternity!
7.
If ever I have spread out a tranquil heaven above
me, and have flown into mine own heaven with
mine own pinions :
If I have swum playfully in profound luminous
distances, and if my freedom's avian wisdom hath
come to me:-
-Thus however speaketh avian wisdom :-"Lo,
there is no above and no below! Throw thyself
about-outward, backward, thou light one! Sing!
speak no more!
-Are not all words made for the heavy? Do
not all words lie to the light ones? Sing! speak
no more! ”-
Oh, how could I not be ardent for Eternity, and
for the marriage-ring of rings—the ring of the
return?
Never yet have I found the woman by whom I
should like to have children, unless it be this woman
whom I love: for I love thee, O Eternity!
For I love thee, O Eternity!
## p. 285 (#409) ############################################
THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA.
FOURTH AND LAST PART.
Ah, where in the world have
there been greater follies than
with the pitiful? And what in
the world hath caused more
suffering than the follies of the
pitiful?
Woe unto all loving ones who
have not an elevation which is
above their pity!
Thus spake the devil unto me,
once on a time: "Even God
hath his hell: it is his love for
man. "
And lately did I hear him say
these words: "God is dead: of
his pity for man hath God died. "
—ZARATHUSTRA, II. , "The
Pitiful" (pp. 104-5),
/""
## p. 286 (#410) ############################################
## p. 287 (#411) ############################################
LXI. —THE HONEY SACRIFICE.
—AND again passed moons and years over
Zarathustra's soul, and he heeded it not; his hair,
however, became white. One day when he sat on
a stone in front of his cave, and gazed calmly into
the distance—one there gazeth out on the sea,
and away beyond sinuous abysses,—then went his
animals thoughtfully round about him, and at last
set themselves in front of him.
“O Zarathustra," said they, “gazest thou out
perhaps for thy happiness ? "_"Of what account
is my happiness ! ” answered he, “I have long
ceased to strive any more for happiness, I strive
for my work. ”—“O Zarathustra," said the animals
once more, “that sayest thou as one who hath
overmuch of good things. Liest thou not in a sky-
blue lake of happiness ? "_“Ye wags," answered
Zarathustra, and smiled, “how well did ye choose
the simile! But ye know also that my happiness
is heavy, and not like a fluid wave of water: it
presseth me and will not leave me, and is like
molten pitch. "-
Then went his animals again thoughtfully around
him, and placed themselves once more in front of
him. “O Zarathustra," said they, “it is conse-
quently for that reason that thou thyself always
becometh yellower and darker, although thy hair
looketh white and flaxen? Lo, thou sittest in
## p. 288 (#412) ############################################
288 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, IV.
thy pitch! "—" What do ye say, mine animals? "
said Zarathustra, laughing; "verily I reviled when
I spake of pitch. As it happeneth with me, so
is it with all fruits that turn ripe. It is the honey
in my veins that maketh my blood thicker, and
also my soul stiller. "—"So will it be, O Zarathustra,"
answered his animals, and pressed up to him; "but
wilt thou not to-day ascend a high mountain?
The air is pure, and to-day one seeth more of the
world than ever. "—" Yea, mine animals," answered
he, "ye counsel admirably and according to my
heart: I will to-day ascend a high mountain! But
see that honey is there ready to hand, yellow, white,
good, ice-cool, golden-comb-honey. For know-
that when aloft I will make the honey-sacrifice. "—
When Zarathustra, however, was aloft on the
summit, he sent his animals home that had
accompanied him, and found that he was now
alone:—then he laughed from the bottom of his
heart, looked around him, and spake thus:
That I spake of sacrifices and honey-sacrifices,
it was merely a ruse in talking and verily, a useful
folly! Here aloft can I now speak freer than in
front of mountain-caves and anchorites' domestic
animals.
What to sacrifice! I squander what is given
me, a squanderer with a thousand hands: how
could I call that—sacrificing!
And when I desired honey I only desired bait,
and sweet mucus and mucilage, for which even the
mouths of growling bears, and strange, sulky, evil
birds, water:
## p. 289 (#413) ############################################
LXI. —THE HONEY SACRIFICE. 289
—The best bait, as huntsmen and fishermen
require it. For if the world be as a gloomy forest
of animals, and a pleasure-ground for all wild
huntsmen, it seemeth to me rather—and preferably
—a fathomless, rich sea;
—A sea full of many-hued fishes and crabs, for
which even the Gods might long, and might be
tempted to become fishers in it, and casters of
nets,—so rich is the world in wonderful things,
great and small!
Especially the human world, the human sea :—
towards it do I now throw out my golden
angle-rod and say: Open up, thou human abyss!
Open up, and throw unto me thy fish and shining
crabs! With my best bait shall I allure to myself
to-day the strangest human fish!
—My happiness itself do I throw out into all
places far and wide 'twixt orient, noontide, and
Occident, to see if many human fish will not learn
to hug and tug at my happiness ;—
Until, biting at my sharp hidden hooks, they
have to come up unto my height, the motleyest
abyss-groundlings, to the wickedest of all fishers
of men.
For this am I from the heart and from the
beginning—drawing, hither-drawing, upward-draw-
ing, upbringing; a drawer, a trainer, a training-
master, who not in vain counselled himself once
on a time: "Become what thou art! "
Thus may men now come up to me; for as yet
do I await the signs that it is time for my down-
going; as yet do I not myself go down, as I must
do, amongst men.
T
## p. 290 (#414) ############################################
290 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, IV.
Therefore do I here wait, crafty and scornful
upon high mountains, no impatient one, no patient
one; rather one who hath even unlearnt patience,
—because he no longer " suffereth. "
For my fate giveth me time: it hath forgotten
me perhaps? Or doth it sit behind a big stone
and catch flies?
And verily, I am well-disposed to mine eternal
fate, because it doth not hound and hurry me, but
leaveth me time for merriment and mischief; so
that I have to-day ascended this high mountain
to catch fish.
Did ever any one catch fish upon high moun-
tains? And though it be a folly what I here seek
and do, it is better so than that down below I
should become solemn with waiting, and green and
yellow—
—A posturing wrath-snorter with waiting, a holy
howl-storm from the mountains, an impatient one
that shouteth down into the valleys: "Hearken,
else I will scourge you with the scourge of God! "
Not that I would have a grudge against such
wrathful ones on that account: they are well
enough for laughter to me! Impatient must they
now be, those big alarm-drums, which find a voice
now or never!
Myself, however, and my fate—we do not talk
to the Present, neither do we talk to the Never:
for talking we have patience and time and more
than time. For one day must it yet come, and
may not pass by.
What must one day come and may not pass by?
Our great Hazar, that is to say, our great, remote
## p. 291 (#415) ############################################
LXI. --THE HONEY SACRIFICE.
291
human-kingdom, the Zarathustra-kingdom of a
thousand years--
How remote may such“ remoteness” be? What
doth it concern me? But on that account it is
none the less sure unto me, with both feet stand
I secure on this ground;
-On an eternal ground, on hard primary rock, on
this highest, hardest, primary mountain-ridge, unto
which all winds come, as unto the storm-parting,
asking Where? and Whence? and Whither ?
Here laugh, laugh, my hearty, healthy wicked-
ness! From high mountains cast down thy
glittering scorn-laughter! Allure for me with
thy glittering the finest human fish!
And whatever belongeth unto me in all seas, my
in-and-for-me in all things—fish that out for me,
bring that up to me: for that do I wait, the
wickedest of all fish-catchers.
Out! out! my fishing-hook! In and down, thou
bait of my happiness! Drip thy sweetest dew,
thou honey of my heart! Bite, my fishing-hook,
into the belly of all black affliction !
Look out, look out, mine eye! Oh, how many
seas round about me, what dawning human futures!
And above me what rosy red stillness! What
unclouded silence!
LXII. —THE CRY OF DISTRESS.
The next day sat Zarathustra again on the stone
in front of his cave, whilst his animals roved about
in the world outside to bring home new food,—also
new honey : for Zarathustra had spent and wasted
## p. 291 (#416) ############################################
2CjO THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, IV.
Therefore do I here wait, crafty and scornful
upon high mountains, no impatient one, no patient
one; rather one who hath even unlearnt patience,
—because he no longer "suffereth. "
For my fate giveth me time: it hath forgotten
me perhaps? Or doth it sit behind a big stone
and catch flies?
And verily, I am well-disposed to mine eternal
fate, because it doth not hound and hurry me, but
leaveth me time for merriment and mischief; so
that I have to-day ascended this high mountain
to catch fish.
Did ever any one catch fish upon high moun-
tains? And though it be a folly what I here seek
and do, it is better so than that down below I
should become solemn with waiting, and green and
yellow—
—A posturing wrath-snorter with waiting, a holy
howl-storm from the mountains, an impatient one
that shouteth down into the valleys: "Hearken,
else I will scourge you with the scourge of God! "
Not that I would have a grudge against such
wrathful ones on that account: they are well
enough for laughter to me! Impatient must they
now be, those big alarm-drums, which find a voice
now or never!
Myself, however, and my fate—we do not talk
to the Present, neither do we talk to the Never:
for talking we have patience and time and more
than time. For one day must it yet come, and
may not pass by.
What must one day come and may not pass by?
Our great Hazar, that is to say, our great, remote
"I
## p. 291 (#417) ############################################
LXI. —THE HONEY SACRIFICE. 291
human-kingdom, the Zarathustra-kingdom of a
thousand years
How remote may such " remoteness " be? What
doth it concern me? But on that account it is
none the less sure unto me—, with both feet stand
I secure on this ground;
—On an eternal ground, on hard primary rock, on
this highest, hardest, primary mountain-ridge, unto
which all winds come, as unto the storm-parting,
asking Where? and Whence? and Whither?
Here laugh, laugh, my hearty, healthy wicked-
ness! From high mountains cast down thy
glittering scorn-laughter! Allure for me with
thy glittering the finest human fish!
And whatever belongeth unto me in all seas, my
in-and-for-me in all things—fish that out for me,
bring that up to me: for that do I wait, the
wickedest of all fish-catchers.
Out! out! my fishing-hook! In and down, thou
bait of my happiness! Drip thy sweetest dew,
thou honey of my heart! Bite, my fishing-hook,
into the belly of all black affliction!
Look out, look out, mine eye! Oh, how many
seas round about me, what dawning human futures!
And above me—what rosy red stillness! What
unclouded silence!
LXIL—THE CRY OF DISTRESS.
The next day sat Zarathustra again on the stone
in front of his cave, whilst his animals roved about
in the world outside to bring home new food,—also
new honey: for Zarathustra had spent and wasted
## p. 291 (#418) ############################################
290 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, IV.
Therefore do I here wait, crafty and scornful
upon high mountains, no impatient one, no patient
one; rather one who hath even unlearnt patience,
—because he no longer " suffereth. "
For my fate giveth me time: it hath forgotten
me perhaps? Or doth it sit behind a big stone
and catch flies?
And verily, I am well-disposed to mine eternal
fate, because it doth not hound and hurry me, but
leaveth me time for merriment and mischief; so
that I have to-day ascended this high mountain
to catch fish.
Did ever any one catch fish upon high moun-
tains? And though it be a folly what I here seek
and do, it is better so than that down below I
should become solemn with waiting, and green and
yellow—
—A posturing wrath-snorter with waiting, a holy
howl-storm from the mountains, an impatient one
that shouteth down into the valleys: "Hearken,
else I will scourge you with the scourge of God! "
Not that I would have a grudge against such
wrathful ones on that account: they are well
enough for laughter to me! Impatient must they
now be, those big alarm-drums, which find a voice
now or never!
Myself, however, and my fate—we do not talk
to the Present, neither do we talk to the Never:
for talking we have patience and time and more
than time. For one day must it yet come, and
may not pass by.
What must one day come and may not pass by?
Our great Hazar, that is to say, our great, remote
^
## p. 291 (#419) ############################################
LXI. —THE HONEY SACRIFICE. 291
human-kingdom, the Zarathustra-kingdom of a
thousand years
How remote may such " remoteness " be? What
doth it concern me? But on that account it is
none the less sure unto me—, with both feet stand
I secure on this ground;
—On an eternal ground, on hard primary rock, on
this highest, hardest, primary mountain-ridge, unto
which all winds come, as unto the storm-parting,
asking Where? and Whence? and Whither?
Here laugh, laugh, my hearty, healthy wicked-
ness! From high mountains cast down thy
glittering scorn-laughter! Allure for me with
thy glittering the finest human fish!
And whatever belongeth unto me in all seas, my
in-and-for-me in all things—fish that out for me,
bring that up to me: for that do I wait, the
wickedest of all fish-catchers.
Out! out! my fishing-hook! In and down, thou
bait of my happiness! Drip thy sweetest dew,
thou honey of my heart! Bite, my fishing-hook,
into the belly of all black affliction!
Look out, look out, mine eye! Oh, how many
seas round about me, what dawning human futures!
And above me—what rosy red stillness! What
unclouded silence!
LXII. —THE CRY OF DISTRESS.
The next day sat Zarathustra again on the stone
in front of his cave, whilst his animals roved about
in the world outside to bring home new food,—also
new honey: for Zarathustra had spent and wasted
## p. 291 (#420) ############################################
2CJO THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, IV.
Therefore do I here wait, crafty and scornful
upon high mountains, no impatient one, no patient
one; rather one who hath even unlearnt patience,
—because he no longer " suffereth. "
For my fate giveth me time: it hath forgotten
me perhaps? Or doth it sit behind a big stone
and catch flies?
And verily, I am well-disposed to mine eternal
fate, because it doth not hound and hurry me, but
leaveth me time for merriment and mischief; so
that I have to-day ascended this high mountain
to catch fish.
Did ever any one catch fish upon high moun-
tains? And though it be a folly what I here seek
and do, it is better so than that down below I
should become solemn with waiting, and green and
yellow—
—A posturing wrath-snorter with waiting, a holy
howl-storm from the mountains, an impatient one
that shouteth down into the valleys: "Hearken,
else I will scourge you with the scourge of God! "
Not that I would have a grudge against such
wrathful ones on that account: they are well
enough for laughter to me! Impatient must they
now be, those big alarm-drums, which find a voice
now or never!
Myself, however, and my fate—we do not talk
to the Present, neither do we talk to the Never:
for talking we have patience and time and more
than time. For one day must it yet come, and
may not pass by.
What must one day come and may not pass by?
Our great Hazar, that is to say, our great, remote
-"
"
## p. 291 (#421) ############################################
LXI. —THE HONEY SACRIFICE. 291
human-kingdom, the Zarathustra-kingdom of a
thousand years
How remote may such " remoteness " be? What
doth it concern me? But on that account it is
none the less sure unto me—, with both feet stand
I secure on this ground;
—On an eternal ground, on hard primary rock, on
this highest, hardest, primary mountain-ridge, unto
which all winds come, as unto the storm-parting,
asking Where? and Whence? and Whither?
Here laugh, laugh, my hearty, healthy wicked-
ness! From high mountains cast down thy
glittering scorn-laughter! Allure for me with
thy glittering the finest human fish!
And whatever belongeth unto me in all seas, my
in-and-for-me in all things—fish that out for me,
bring that up to me: for that do I wait, the
wickedest of all fish-catchers.
Out! out! my fishing-hook! In and down, thou
bait of my happiness! Drip thy sweetest dew,
thou honey of my heart! Bite, my fishing-hook,
into the belly of all black affliction!
Look out, look out, mine eye! Oh, how many
seas round about me, what dawning human futures!
And above me—what rosy red stillness! What
unclouded silence!
LXII. —THE CRY OF DISTRESS.
The next day sat Zarathustra again on the stone
in front of his cave, whilst his animals roved about
in the world outside to bring home new food,—also
new honey: for Zarathustra had spent and wasted
## p. 291 (#422) ############################################
200 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, IV.
Therefore do I here wait, crafty and scornful
upon high mountains, no impatient one, no patient
one; rather one who hath even unlearnt patience,
—because he no longer " suffereth. "
For my fate giveth me time: it hath forgotten
me perhaps? Or doth it sit behind a big stone
and catch flies?
And verily, I am well-disposed to mine eternal
fate, because it doth not hound and hurry me, but
leaveth me time for merriment and mischief; so
that I have to-day ascended this high mountain
to catch fish.
Did ever any one catch fish upon high moun-
tains?
selves melt into tears through the over-graciousness
of thy smiling.
Thy graciousness and over-graciousness, is it,
which will not complain and weep: and yet, O
my soul, longeth thy smiling for tears, and thy
trembling mouth for sobs.
“Is not all weeping complaining? And all com-
plaining, accusing ? ” Thus speakest thou to thyself;
## p. 274 (#396) ############################################
274
THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, III.
and therefore, O my soul, wilt thou rather smile
than pour forth thy grief-
-Than in gushing tears pour forth all thy grief
concerning thy fulness, and concerning the craving
of the vine for the vintager and vintage-knife!
But wilt thou not weep, wilt thou not weep forth
thy purple melancholy, then wilt thou have to sing,
O my soul ! -Behold, I smile myself, who foretell
thee this :
– Thou wilt have to sing with passionate song,
until all seas turn calm to hearken unto thy
longing,
-Until over calm longing seas the bark glideth,
the golden marvel, around the gold of which all
good, bad, and marvellous things frisk :-
-Also many large and small animals, and every-
thing that hath light marvellous feet, so that it can
run on violet-blue paths,-
-Towards the golden marvel, the spontaneous
bark, and its master : he, however, is the vintager
who waiteth with the diamond vintage-knife,–
-Thy great deliverer, O my soul, the nameless
one- -for whom future songs only will find
names ! And verily, already hath thy breath the
fragrance of future songs,-
--Already glowest thou and dreamest, already
drinkest thou thirstily at all deep echoing wells of
consolation, already reposeth thy melancholy in the
bliss of future songs ! - -
O my soul, now have I given thee all, and even
my last possession, and all my hands have become
empty by thee :—that I bade thee sing, behold, that
was my last thing to give !
## p. 275 (#397) ############################################
LVIII. --THE GREAT LONGING.
275
That I bade thee sing, say now, say: which of
us now-oweth thanks ? -Better still, however :
sing unto me, sing, O my soul! And let me thank
thee ! -
Thus spake Zarathustra.
LIX. —THE SECOND DANCE SONG.
"Into thine eyes gazed I lately, O Life: gold
saw I gleam in thy night eyes,—my heart stood
still with delight:
-A golden bark saw I gleam on darkened waters,
a sinking, drinking, reblinking, golden swing-bark !
At my dance-frantic foot, dost thou cast a glance,
a laughing, questioning, melting, thrown glance:
Twice only movedst thou thy rattle with thy
little hands--then did my feet swing with dance-
fury. -
My heels reared aloft, my toes they hearkened, -
thee they would know : hath not the dancer his
ear—in his toe!
Unto thee did I spring: then fledst thou back
from my bound; and towards me waved thy
fleeing, flying tresses round !
Away from thee did I spring, and from thy
snaky tresses: then stoodst thou there half-turned,
and in thine eye caresses.
With crooked glances—dost thou teach me
crooked courses ; on crooked courses learn my feet
-crafty fancies !
I fear thee near, I love thee far; thy Aight
## p. 276 (#398) ############################################
276 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, III.
allureth me, thy seeking secureth me:—I suffer,
but for thee, what would I not gladly bear!
For thee, whose coldness inflameth, whose hatred
misleadeth, whose flight enchaineth, whose mockery
—pleadeth:
—Who would not hate thee, thou great bindress,
inwindress, temptress, seekress, findress! Who
would not love thee, thou innocent, impatient,
wind-swift, child-eyed sfnner!
Whither pullest thou me now, thou paragon and
tomboy? And now foolest thou me fleeing; thou
sweet romp dost annoy!
I dance after thee, I follow even faint traces
lonely. Where art thou? Give me thy hand!
Or thy finger only!
Here are caves and thickets: we shall go astray!
—Halt! Stand still! Seest thou not owls and
bats in fluttering fray?
Thou bat! Thou owl! Thou wouldst play me
foul? Where are we? From the dogs hast thou
learned thus to bark and howl.
Thou gnashest on me sweetly with little white
teeth; thine evil eyes shoot out upon me, thy curly
little mane from underneath!
This is a dance over stock and stone: I am the
hunter,—wilt thou be my hound, or my chamois
anon?
Now beside me! And quickly, wickedly spring-
ing! Now up! And over! —Alas! I have fallen
myself overswinging!
Oh, see me lying, thou arrogant one, and imploring
grace! Gladly would I walk with thee—in some
lovelier place!
## p. 277 (#399) ############################################
LIX. —THE SECOND DANCE SONG. 277
—In the paths of love, through bushes variegated,
quiet, trim! Or there along the lake, where gold-
fishes dance and swim!
Thou art now a-weary? There above are sheep
and sunset stripes: is it not sweet to sleep—the
shepherd pipes?
Thou art so very weary? I carry thee thither;
let just thine arm sink! And art thou thirsty—
I should have something; but thy mouth would
not like it to drink ! —
—Oh, that cursed, nimble, supple serpent and
lurking-witch! Where art thou gone? But in
my face do I feel through thy hand, two spots and
red blotches itch!
I am verily weary of it, ever thy sheepish shep-
herd to be. Thou witch, if I have hitherto sung
unto thee, now shalt thou—cry unto me!
To the rhythm of my whip shalt thou dance and
cry! I forget not my whip ? —Not I ! "—
Then did Life answer me thus, and kept thereby
her fine ears closed:
"O Zarathustra! Crack not so terribly with
thy whip! Thou knowest surely that noise killeth
thought,—and just now there came to me such
delicate thoughts.
We are both of us genuine ne'er-do-wells and
ne'er-do-ills. Beyond good and evil found we our
island and our green meadow—we two alone!
Therefore must we be friendly to each other!
And even should we not love each other from
## p. 278 (#400) ############################################
278
THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, III.
the bottom of our hearts,— must we then have a
grudge against each other if we do not love each
other perfectly?
And that I am friendly to thee, and often too
friendly, that knowest thou : and the reason is that
I am envious of thy Wisdom. Ah, this mad old
fool, Wisdom!
If thy Wisdom should one day run away from
thee, ah! then would also my love run away from
thee quickly. ”—
Thereupon did Life look thoughtfully behind
and around, and said softly: “O Zarathustra, thou
art not faithful enough to me!
Thou lovest me not nearly so much as thou
sayest; I know thou thinkest of soon leaving me.
There is an old heavy, heavy, booming-clock : it
boometh by night up to thy cave :-
-When thou hearest this clock strike the hours
at midnight, then thinkest thou between one and
twelve thereon-
- Thou thinkest thereon, O Zarathustra, I know
it-of soon leaving me! ”—
“Yea," answered I, hesitatingly, “but thou
knowest it also "-And I said something into her
ear, in amongst her confused, yellow, foolish
tresses.
“Thou knowest that, o Zarathustra ? That
knoweth no one- 2"
And we gazed at each other, and looked at the
green meadow o'er which the cool evening was just
## p. 279 (#401) ############################################
LIX. —THE SECOND DANCE SOMG. 279
passing, and we wept together. —Then, however,
was Life dearer unto me than all my Wisdom
had ever been. -
Thus spake Zarathustra.
30
One!
O man! Take heed !
Two!
What saith deep midnight's voice indeed ?
Three!
“ I slept my sleep-
Four!
“From deepest dream l've woke and plead :-
Five!
“The world is deep,
Six!
“ And deeper than the day could read.
Seven !
“Deep is its woe-
Eight!
"Joy--deeper still than grief can be :
Nine!
“Woe saith : Hence! Go!
## p. 280 (#402) ############################################
280
THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, III.
Ten!
“But joys all want eternity-
Eleven!
“Want deep profound eternity! "
Twelve!
LX. -THE SEVEN SEALS.
(Or the Yea and Amen Lay. )
1.
If I be a diviner and full of the divining spirit
which wandereth on high mountain-ridges, 'twixt
two seas,
Wandereth 'twixt the past and the future as a
heavy cloud-hostile to sultry plains, and to all
that is weary and can neither die nor live:
Ready for lightning in its dark bosom, and for
the redeeming flash of light, charged with light-
nings which say Yea! which laugh Yea! ready for
divining flashes of lightning :-
-Blessed, however, is he who is thus charged !
And verily, long must he hang like a heavy tempest
on the mountain, who shall one day kindle the
light of the future !
Oh, how could I not be ardent for Eternity and
for the marriage-ring of rings—the ring of the
return?
Never yet have I found the woman by whom I
should like to have children, unless it be this woman
whom I love: for I love thee, O Eternity!
For I love thee, O Eternity !
## p. 281 (#403) ############################################
LX. —THE SEVEN SEALS. 281
2.
If ever my wrath hath burst graves, shifted land-
marks, or rolled old shattered tables into precipitous
depths:
If ever my scorn hath scattered mouldered words
to the winds, and if I have come like a besom to
cross-spiders, and as a cleansing wind to old charnel-
houses:
If ever I have sat rejoicing where old Gods lie
buried, world-blessing, world-loving, beside the
monuments of old world-maligners :—
—For even churches and Gods'-graves do I love,
if only heaven looketh through their ruined roofs
with pure eyes; gladly do I sit like grass and red
poppies on ruined churches—
Oh, how could I not be ardent for Eternity, and
for the marriage-ring of rings—the ring of the
return?
Never yet have I found the woman by whom I
should like to have children, unless it be this woman
whom I love: for I love thee, O Eternity!
For I love thee, O Eternity!
3-
If ever a breath hath come to me of the creative
breath, and of the heavenly necessity which com-
pelleth even chances to dance star-dances:
If ever I have laughed with the laughter of the
creative lightning, to which the long thunder of the
deed followeth, grumblingly, but obediently:
If ever I have played dice with the Gods at the
## p. 281 (#404) ############################################
280 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, III.
Ten!
"But joys all want eternity—
Eleven!
"Want deep profound eternity! "
Twelve!
LX. —THE SEVEN SEALS.
(Or the Yea and Amen Lay. )
i.
If I be a diviner and full of the divining spirit
which wandereth on high mountain-ridges, 'twixt
two seas,—
Wandereth 'twixt the past and the future as a
heavy cloud—hostile to sultry plains, and to all
that is weary and can neither die nor live:
Ready for lightning in its dark bosom, and for
the redeeming flash of light, charged with light-
nings which say Yea! which laugh Yea! ready for
divining flashes of lightning :—
—Blessed, however, is he who is thus charged!
And verily, long must he hang like a heavy tempest
on the mountain, who shall one day kindle the
light of the future ! —
Oh, how could I not be ardent for Eternity and
for the marriage-ring of rings—the ring of the
return?
Never yet have I found the woman by whom I
should like to have children, unless it be this woman
whom I love: for I love thee, O Eternity!
For I love thee, 0 Eternity!
^
1
## p. 281 (#405) ############################################
LX. —THE SEVEN SEALS. 281
If ever my wrath hath burst graves, shifted land-
marks, or rolled old shattered tables into precipitous
depths:
If ever my scorn hath scattered mouldered words
to the winds, and if I have come like a besom to
cross-spiders, and as a cleansing wind to old charnel-
houses:
If ever I have sat rejoicing where old Gods lie
buried, world-blessing, world-loving, beside the
monuments of old world-maligners:—
—For even churches and Gods'-graves do I love,
if only heaven looketh through their ruined roofs
with pure eyes; gladly do I sit like grass and red
poppies on ruined churches—
Oh, how could I not be ardent for Eternity, and
for the marriage-ring of rings—the ring of the
return?
Never yet have I found the woman by whom I
should like to have children, unless it be this woman
whom I love: for I love thee, O Eternity!
For I love thee, 0 Eternity!
3-
If ever a breath hath come to me of the creative
breath, and of the heavenly necessity which com-
pelleth even chances to dance star-dances:
If ever I have laughed with the laughter of the
creative lightning, to which the long thunder of the
deed followeth, grumblingly, but obediently:
If ever I have played dice with the Gods at the
## p. 282 (#406) ############################################
282 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, III.
divine table of the earth, so that the earth quaked
and ruptured, and snorted forth fire-streams :—
—For a divine table is the earth, and trembling
with new creative dictums and dice-casts of the
Gods:
Oh, how could I not be ardent for Eternity, and
for the marriage-ring of rings—the ring of the
return?
Never yet have I found the woman by whom I
should like to have children, unless it be this woman
whom I love: for I love thee, O Eternity!
For I love thee, 0 Eternity!
4-
If ever I have drunk a full draught of the foam-
ing spice- and confection-bowl in which all things
are well mixed:
If ever my hand hath mingled the furthest with
the nearest, fire with spirit, joy with sorrow, and
the harshest with the kindest:
If I myself am a grain of the saving salt which
maketh everything in the confection-bowl mix
well:—
—For there is a salt which uniteth good with
evil; and even the evilest is worthy, as spicing and
as final over-foaming :—
Oh, how could I not be ardent for Eternity, and
for the marriage-ring of rings—the ring of the
return?
Never yet have I found the woman by whom 1
should like to have children, unless it be this woman
whom I love: for I love thee, O Eternity!
For I love thee, 0 Eternity!
X
## p. 283 (#407) ############################################
LX. —THE SEVEN SEALS.
283
If I be fond of the sea, and all that is sealike, and
fondest of it when it angrily contradicteth me :
If the exploring delight be in me, which impelleth
sails to the undiscovered, if the seafarer's delight
be in my delight :
If ever my rejoicing hath called out : “ The shore
hath vanished,—now hath fallen from me the last
chain-
The boundless roareth around me, far away
sparkle for me space and time,-well! cheer up!
old heart! ”–
Oh, how could I not be ardent for Eternity, and
for the marriage-ring of rings—the ring of the
return?
Never yet have I found the woman by whom I
should like to have children, unless it be this woman
whom I love : for I love thee, O Eternity!
For I love thee, O Eternity!
If my virtue be a dancer's virtue, and if I have
often sprung with both feet into golden-emerald
rapture :
If my wickedness be a laughing wickedness, at
home among rose-banks and hedges of lilies :
-For in laughter is all evil present, but it is
sanctified and absolved by its own bliss :-
And if it be my Alpha and Omega that every-
thing heavy shall become light, every body a
dancer, and every spirit a bird : and verily, that is
my Alpha and Omega !
## p. 284 (#408) ############################################
284
THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, III.
THUS SPA
Oh, how could I not be ardent for Eternity, and
for the marriage-ring of rings—the ring of the
return?
Never yet have I found the woman by whom I
should like to have children, unless it be this woman
whom I love: for I love thee, O Eternity!
For I love thee, O Eternity!
7.
If ever I have spread out a tranquil heaven above
me, and have flown into mine own heaven with
mine own pinions :
If I have swum playfully in profound luminous
distances, and if my freedom's avian wisdom hath
come to me:-
-Thus however speaketh avian wisdom :-"Lo,
there is no above and no below! Throw thyself
about-outward, backward, thou light one! Sing!
speak no more!
-Are not all words made for the heavy? Do
not all words lie to the light ones? Sing! speak
no more! ”-
Oh, how could I not be ardent for Eternity, and
for the marriage-ring of rings—the ring of the
return?
Never yet have I found the woman by whom I
should like to have children, unless it be this woman
whom I love: for I love thee, O Eternity!
For I love thee, O Eternity!
## p. 285 (#409) ############################################
THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA.
FOURTH AND LAST PART.
Ah, where in the world have
there been greater follies than
with the pitiful? And what in
the world hath caused more
suffering than the follies of the
pitiful?
Woe unto all loving ones who
have not an elevation which is
above their pity!
Thus spake the devil unto me,
once on a time: "Even God
hath his hell: it is his love for
man. "
And lately did I hear him say
these words: "God is dead: of
his pity for man hath God died. "
—ZARATHUSTRA, II. , "The
Pitiful" (pp. 104-5),
/""
## p. 286 (#410) ############################################
## p. 287 (#411) ############################################
LXI. —THE HONEY SACRIFICE.
—AND again passed moons and years over
Zarathustra's soul, and he heeded it not; his hair,
however, became white. One day when he sat on
a stone in front of his cave, and gazed calmly into
the distance—one there gazeth out on the sea,
and away beyond sinuous abysses,—then went his
animals thoughtfully round about him, and at last
set themselves in front of him.
“O Zarathustra," said they, “gazest thou out
perhaps for thy happiness ? "_"Of what account
is my happiness ! ” answered he, “I have long
ceased to strive any more for happiness, I strive
for my work. ”—“O Zarathustra," said the animals
once more, “that sayest thou as one who hath
overmuch of good things. Liest thou not in a sky-
blue lake of happiness ? "_“Ye wags," answered
Zarathustra, and smiled, “how well did ye choose
the simile! But ye know also that my happiness
is heavy, and not like a fluid wave of water: it
presseth me and will not leave me, and is like
molten pitch. "-
Then went his animals again thoughtfully around
him, and placed themselves once more in front of
him. “O Zarathustra," said they, “it is conse-
quently for that reason that thou thyself always
becometh yellower and darker, although thy hair
looketh white and flaxen? Lo, thou sittest in
## p. 288 (#412) ############################################
288 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, IV.
thy pitch! "—" What do ye say, mine animals? "
said Zarathustra, laughing; "verily I reviled when
I spake of pitch. As it happeneth with me, so
is it with all fruits that turn ripe. It is the honey
in my veins that maketh my blood thicker, and
also my soul stiller. "—"So will it be, O Zarathustra,"
answered his animals, and pressed up to him; "but
wilt thou not to-day ascend a high mountain?
The air is pure, and to-day one seeth more of the
world than ever. "—" Yea, mine animals," answered
he, "ye counsel admirably and according to my
heart: I will to-day ascend a high mountain! But
see that honey is there ready to hand, yellow, white,
good, ice-cool, golden-comb-honey. For know-
that when aloft I will make the honey-sacrifice. "—
When Zarathustra, however, was aloft on the
summit, he sent his animals home that had
accompanied him, and found that he was now
alone:—then he laughed from the bottom of his
heart, looked around him, and spake thus:
That I spake of sacrifices and honey-sacrifices,
it was merely a ruse in talking and verily, a useful
folly! Here aloft can I now speak freer than in
front of mountain-caves and anchorites' domestic
animals.
What to sacrifice! I squander what is given
me, a squanderer with a thousand hands: how
could I call that—sacrificing!
And when I desired honey I only desired bait,
and sweet mucus and mucilage, for which even the
mouths of growling bears, and strange, sulky, evil
birds, water:
## p. 289 (#413) ############################################
LXI. —THE HONEY SACRIFICE. 289
—The best bait, as huntsmen and fishermen
require it. For if the world be as a gloomy forest
of animals, and a pleasure-ground for all wild
huntsmen, it seemeth to me rather—and preferably
—a fathomless, rich sea;
—A sea full of many-hued fishes and crabs, for
which even the Gods might long, and might be
tempted to become fishers in it, and casters of
nets,—so rich is the world in wonderful things,
great and small!
Especially the human world, the human sea :—
towards it do I now throw out my golden
angle-rod and say: Open up, thou human abyss!
Open up, and throw unto me thy fish and shining
crabs! With my best bait shall I allure to myself
to-day the strangest human fish!
—My happiness itself do I throw out into all
places far and wide 'twixt orient, noontide, and
Occident, to see if many human fish will not learn
to hug and tug at my happiness ;—
Until, biting at my sharp hidden hooks, they
have to come up unto my height, the motleyest
abyss-groundlings, to the wickedest of all fishers
of men.
For this am I from the heart and from the
beginning—drawing, hither-drawing, upward-draw-
ing, upbringing; a drawer, a trainer, a training-
master, who not in vain counselled himself once
on a time: "Become what thou art! "
Thus may men now come up to me; for as yet
do I await the signs that it is time for my down-
going; as yet do I not myself go down, as I must
do, amongst men.
T
## p. 290 (#414) ############################################
290 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, IV.
Therefore do I here wait, crafty and scornful
upon high mountains, no impatient one, no patient
one; rather one who hath even unlearnt patience,
—because he no longer " suffereth. "
For my fate giveth me time: it hath forgotten
me perhaps? Or doth it sit behind a big stone
and catch flies?
And verily, I am well-disposed to mine eternal
fate, because it doth not hound and hurry me, but
leaveth me time for merriment and mischief; so
that I have to-day ascended this high mountain
to catch fish.
Did ever any one catch fish upon high moun-
tains? And though it be a folly what I here seek
and do, it is better so than that down below I
should become solemn with waiting, and green and
yellow—
—A posturing wrath-snorter with waiting, a holy
howl-storm from the mountains, an impatient one
that shouteth down into the valleys: "Hearken,
else I will scourge you with the scourge of God! "
Not that I would have a grudge against such
wrathful ones on that account: they are well
enough for laughter to me! Impatient must they
now be, those big alarm-drums, which find a voice
now or never!
Myself, however, and my fate—we do not talk
to the Present, neither do we talk to the Never:
for talking we have patience and time and more
than time. For one day must it yet come, and
may not pass by.
What must one day come and may not pass by?
Our great Hazar, that is to say, our great, remote
## p. 291 (#415) ############################################
LXI. --THE HONEY SACRIFICE.
291
human-kingdom, the Zarathustra-kingdom of a
thousand years--
How remote may such“ remoteness” be? What
doth it concern me? But on that account it is
none the less sure unto me, with both feet stand
I secure on this ground;
-On an eternal ground, on hard primary rock, on
this highest, hardest, primary mountain-ridge, unto
which all winds come, as unto the storm-parting,
asking Where? and Whence? and Whither ?
Here laugh, laugh, my hearty, healthy wicked-
ness! From high mountains cast down thy
glittering scorn-laughter! Allure for me with
thy glittering the finest human fish!
And whatever belongeth unto me in all seas, my
in-and-for-me in all things—fish that out for me,
bring that up to me: for that do I wait, the
wickedest of all fish-catchers.
Out! out! my fishing-hook! In and down, thou
bait of my happiness! Drip thy sweetest dew,
thou honey of my heart! Bite, my fishing-hook,
into the belly of all black affliction !
Look out, look out, mine eye! Oh, how many
seas round about me, what dawning human futures!
And above me what rosy red stillness! What
unclouded silence!
LXII. —THE CRY OF DISTRESS.
The next day sat Zarathustra again on the stone
in front of his cave, whilst his animals roved about
in the world outside to bring home new food,—also
new honey : for Zarathustra had spent and wasted
## p. 291 (#416) ############################################
2CjO THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, IV.
Therefore do I here wait, crafty and scornful
upon high mountains, no impatient one, no patient
one; rather one who hath even unlearnt patience,
—because he no longer "suffereth. "
For my fate giveth me time: it hath forgotten
me perhaps? Or doth it sit behind a big stone
and catch flies?
And verily, I am well-disposed to mine eternal
fate, because it doth not hound and hurry me, but
leaveth me time for merriment and mischief; so
that I have to-day ascended this high mountain
to catch fish.
Did ever any one catch fish upon high moun-
tains? And though it be a folly what I here seek
and do, it is better so than that down below I
should become solemn with waiting, and green and
yellow—
—A posturing wrath-snorter with waiting, a holy
howl-storm from the mountains, an impatient one
that shouteth down into the valleys: "Hearken,
else I will scourge you with the scourge of God! "
Not that I would have a grudge against such
wrathful ones on that account: they are well
enough for laughter to me! Impatient must they
now be, those big alarm-drums, which find a voice
now or never!
Myself, however, and my fate—we do not talk
to the Present, neither do we talk to the Never:
for talking we have patience and time and more
than time. For one day must it yet come, and
may not pass by.
What must one day come and may not pass by?
Our great Hazar, that is to say, our great, remote
"I
## p. 291 (#417) ############################################
LXI. —THE HONEY SACRIFICE. 291
human-kingdom, the Zarathustra-kingdom of a
thousand years
How remote may such " remoteness " be? What
doth it concern me? But on that account it is
none the less sure unto me—, with both feet stand
I secure on this ground;
—On an eternal ground, on hard primary rock, on
this highest, hardest, primary mountain-ridge, unto
which all winds come, as unto the storm-parting,
asking Where? and Whence? and Whither?
Here laugh, laugh, my hearty, healthy wicked-
ness! From high mountains cast down thy
glittering scorn-laughter! Allure for me with
thy glittering the finest human fish!
And whatever belongeth unto me in all seas, my
in-and-for-me in all things—fish that out for me,
bring that up to me: for that do I wait, the
wickedest of all fish-catchers.
Out! out! my fishing-hook! In and down, thou
bait of my happiness! Drip thy sweetest dew,
thou honey of my heart! Bite, my fishing-hook,
into the belly of all black affliction!
Look out, look out, mine eye! Oh, how many
seas round about me, what dawning human futures!
And above me—what rosy red stillness! What
unclouded silence!
LXIL—THE CRY OF DISTRESS.
The next day sat Zarathustra again on the stone
in front of his cave, whilst his animals roved about
in the world outside to bring home new food,—also
new honey: for Zarathustra had spent and wasted
## p. 291 (#418) ############################################
290 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, IV.
Therefore do I here wait, crafty and scornful
upon high mountains, no impatient one, no patient
one; rather one who hath even unlearnt patience,
—because he no longer " suffereth. "
For my fate giveth me time: it hath forgotten
me perhaps? Or doth it sit behind a big stone
and catch flies?
And verily, I am well-disposed to mine eternal
fate, because it doth not hound and hurry me, but
leaveth me time for merriment and mischief; so
that I have to-day ascended this high mountain
to catch fish.
Did ever any one catch fish upon high moun-
tains? And though it be a folly what I here seek
and do, it is better so than that down below I
should become solemn with waiting, and green and
yellow—
—A posturing wrath-snorter with waiting, a holy
howl-storm from the mountains, an impatient one
that shouteth down into the valleys: "Hearken,
else I will scourge you with the scourge of God! "
Not that I would have a grudge against such
wrathful ones on that account: they are well
enough for laughter to me! Impatient must they
now be, those big alarm-drums, which find a voice
now or never!
Myself, however, and my fate—we do not talk
to the Present, neither do we talk to the Never:
for talking we have patience and time and more
than time. For one day must it yet come, and
may not pass by.
What must one day come and may not pass by?
Our great Hazar, that is to say, our great, remote
^
## p. 291 (#419) ############################################
LXI. —THE HONEY SACRIFICE. 291
human-kingdom, the Zarathustra-kingdom of a
thousand years
How remote may such " remoteness " be? What
doth it concern me? But on that account it is
none the less sure unto me—, with both feet stand
I secure on this ground;
—On an eternal ground, on hard primary rock, on
this highest, hardest, primary mountain-ridge, unto
which all winds come, as unto the storm-parting,
asking Where? and Whence? and Whither?
Here laugh, laugh, my hearty, healthy wicked-
ness! From high mountains cast down thy
glittering scorn-laughter! Allure for me with
thy glittering the finest human fish!
And whatever belongeth unto me in all seas, my
in-and-for-me in all things—fish that out for me,
bring that up to me: for that do I wait, the
wickedest of all fish-catchers.
Out! out! my fishing-hook! In and down, thou
bait of my happiness! Drip thy sweetest dew,
thou honey of my heart! Bite, my fishing-hook,
into the belly of all black affliction!
Look out, look out, mine eye! Oh, how many
seas round about me, what dawning human futures!
And above me—what rosy red stillness! What
unclouded silence!
LXII. —THE CRY OF DISTRESS.
The next day sat Zarathustra again on the stone
in front of his cave, whilst his animals roved about
in the world outside to bring home new food,—also
new honey: for Zarathustra had spent and wasted
## p. 291 (#420) ############################################
2CJO THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, IV.
Therefore do I here wait, crafty and scornful
upon high mountains, no impatient one, no patient
one; rather one who hath even unlearnt patience,
—because he no longer " suffereth. "
For my fate giveth me time: it hath forgotten
me perhaps? Or doth it sit behind a big stone
and catch flies?
And verily, I am well-disposed to mine eternal
fate, because it doth not hound and hurry me, but
leaveth me time for merriment and mischief; so
that I have to-day ascended this high mountain
to catch fish.
Did ever any one catch fish upon high moun-
tains? And though it be a folly what I here seek
and do, it is better so than that down below I
should become solemn with waiting, and green and
yellow—
—A posturing wrath-snorter with waiting, a holy
howl-storm from the mountains, an impatient one
that shouteth down into the valleys: "Hearken,
else I will scourge you with the scourge of God! "
Not that I would have a grudge against such
wrathful ones on that account: they are well
enough for laughter to me! Impatient must they
now be, those big alarm-drums, which find a voice
now or never!
Myself, however, and my fate—we do not talk
to the Present, neither do we talk to the Never:
for talking we have patience and time and more
than time. For one day must it yet come, and
may not pass by.
What must one day come and may not pass by?
Our great Hazar, that is to say, our great, remote
-"
"
## p. 291 (#421) ############################################
LXI. —THE HONEY SACRIFICE. 291
human-kingdom, the Zarathustra-kingdom of a
thousand years
How remote may such " remoteness " be? What
doth it concern me? But on that account it is
none the less sure unto me—, with both feet stand
I secure on this ground;
—On an eternal ground, on hard primary rock, on
this highest, hardest, primary mountain-ridge, unto
which all winds come, as unto the storm-parting,
asking Where? and Whence? and Whither?
Here laugh, laugh, my hearty, healthy wicked-
ness! From high mountains cast down thy
glittering scorn-laughter! Allure for me with
thy glittering the finest human fish!
And whatever belongeth unto me in all seas, my
in-and-for-me in all things—fish that out for me,
bring that up to me: for that do I wait, the
wickedest of all fish-catchers.
Out! out! my fishing-hook! In and down, thou
bait of my happiness! Drip thy sweetest dew,
thou honey of my heart! Bite, my fishing-hook,
into the belly of all black affliction!
Look out, look out, mine eye! Oh, how many
seas round about me, what dawning human futures!
And above me—what rosy red stillness! What
unclouded silence!
LXII. —THE CRY OF DISTRESS.
The next day sat Zarathustra again on the stone
in front of his cave, whilst his animals roved about
in the world outside to bring home new food,—also
new honey: for Zarathustra had spent and wasted
## p. 291 (#422) ############################################
200 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, IV.
Therefore do I here wait, crafty and scornful
upon high mountains, no impatient one, no patient
one; rather one who hath even unlearnt patience,
—because he no longer " suffereth. "
For my fate giveth me time: it hath forgotten
me perhaps? Or doth it sit behind a big stone
and catch flies?
And verily, I am well-disposed to mine eternal
fate, because it doth not hound and hurry me, but
leaveth me time for merriment and mischief; so
that I have to-day ascended this high mountain
to catch fish.
Did ever any one catch fish upon high moun-
tains?
