No More Learning

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



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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


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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! —and for this
very reason individuals and whole races may now
face tasks so vast in extent that in former years they
would have looked like madness, and defiance of


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350 THE DAWN OF DAY.
heaven and hell. Now we have the right to ex-
periment upon ourselves! Yes, men have the right
to do so! the greatest sacrifices have not yet been
offered up to knowledge—nay, in earlier periods it
would have been sacrilege, and a sacrifice of our
eternal salvation, even to surmise such ideas as now
precede our actions.
502.
One Word for three different Condi-
tions. —When in a state of passion one man will
be forced to let loose the savage, dreadful, unbear-
able animal. Another when under the influence of
passion will raise himself to a high, noble, and lofty
demeanour, in comparison with which his usual self
appears petty. A third, whose whole person is
permeated with nobility of feeling, has also the most
noble storm and stress: and in this state he repre-
sents Nature in her state of savageness and beauty,
and stands only one degree lower than Nature in her
periods of greatness and serenity, which he usually
represents. It is while in this state of passion,
however, that men understand him better, and
venerate him more highly at these moments—for
then he is one step nearer and more akin to them.
They feel at once delighted and horrified at such a
sight and call it—divine.
503-
Friendship. —The objection to a philosophic
life that it renders us useless to our friends would
never have arisen in a modern mind: it belongs
rather to classical antiquity. Antiquity knew the


## p. 351 (#503) ############################################

THE DAWN OF DAY. 351
stronger bonds of friendship, meditated upon it,
and almost took it to the grave with it. This is the
advantage it has over us: we, on the other hand,
can point to our idealisation of sexual love. All
the great excellencies of ancient humanity owed
their stability to the fact that man was standing
side by side with man, and that no woman was
allowed to put forward the claim of being the
nearest and highest, nay even sole object of his love,
as the feeling of passion would teach. Perhaps
our trees do not grow so high now owing to the
ivy and the vines that cling round them.
504.
Reconciliation. —Should it then be the task
of philosophy to reconcile what the child has learnt
with what the man has come to recognise? Should
philosophy be the task of young men because they
stand midway between child and man and possess
intermediate necessities? It would almost appear
to be so if you consider at what ages of their life
philosophers are now in the habit of setting forth
their conceptions: at a time when it is too late
for faith and too early for knowledge.
SOS-
Practical People. —We thinkers have the
right of deciding good taste in all things, and if
necessary of decreeing it. The practical people
finally receive it from us: their dependence upon
us is incredibly great, and is one of the most


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352 THE DAWN OF DAY.
ridiculous spectacles in the world, little though they
themselves know it and however proudly they like
to carp at us unpractical people. Nay, they would
even go so far as to belittle their practical life if
we should show a tendency to despise it—whereto
at times we might be urged on by a slightly vin-
dictive feeling.
506.
The Necessary Desiccation of Everything
GOOD. —What! must we conceive of a work
exactly in the spirit of the age that has produced
it? but we experience greater delight and surprise,
and get more information out of it when we do
not conceive it in this spirit! Have you not re-
marked that every new and good work, so long
as it is exposed to the damp air of its own age is
least valuable—just because it still has about it
all the odour of the market, of opposition, of
modern ideas, and of all that is transient from
day to day? Later on, however, it dries up, its
"actuality" dies away: and then only does it
obtain its deep lustre and its perfume—and also,
if it is destined for it, the calm eye of eternity.
507.
Against the Tyranny of Truth. —Even if
we were mad enough to consider all our opinions
as truth, we should nevertheless not wish them
alone to exist. I cannot see why we should ask
for an autocracy and omnipotence of truth: it is
sufficient for me to know that it is a great power.


## p. 353 (#505) ############################################

THE DAWN OF DAY. 353
Truth, however, must meet with opposition and be
able to fight, and we must be able to rest from it
at times in falsehood—otherwise truth will grow
tiresome, powerless, and insipid, and will render us
equally so.
508.
Not to take a thing Pathetically. —What
we do to benefit ourselves should not bring us in
any moral praise, either from others or from our-
selves, and the same remark applies to those things
which we do to please ourselves. It is looked
upon as bon ton among superior men to refrain
from taking things pathetically in such cases, and
to refrain from all pathetic feelings: the man who
has accustomed himself to this has retrieved his
naivete.
509.
The Third Eye. —What! You are still in
need of the theatre! are you still so young? Be
wise, and seek tragedy and comedy where they
are better acted, and where the incidents are more
interesting, and the actors more eager. It is
indeed by no means easy to be merely a spectator
in these cases—but learn ! and then, amid all difficult
or painful situations, you will have a little gate lead-
ing to joy and refuge,even when your passions attack
you. Open your stage eye, that big third eye of
yours, which looks out into the world through the
other two.
510.
Escaping from One's Virtues. —Of what
account is a thinker who does not know how to


## p. 354 (#506) ############################################

354 THE DAWN OF DAY.
escape from his own virtues occasionally! Surely
a thinker should be more than "a moral being "!
511.
The Temptress. —Honesty is the great tempt-
ress of all fanatics. * What seemed to tempt Luther
in the guise of the devil or -a beautiful woman,
and from which he defended himself in that un-
couth way of his, was probably nothing but
honesty, and perhaps in a few rarer cases even
truth.
512.
Bold towards Things. —The man who, in
accordance with his character, is considerate and
timid towards persons, but is courageous and bold
towards things, is afraid of new and closer acquaint-
ances, and limits his old ones in order that he may
thus make his incognito and his inconsiderateness
coincide with truth.
513.
Limits and Beauty. —Are you looking for
men with a fine culture? Then you will have to
be satisfied with restricted views and sights, exactly
as when you are looking for fine countries. —There
are, of course, such panoramic men: they are like
panoramic regions, instructive and marvellous : but
not beautiful.
* Hence the violence of all fanatics, who do not wish to
shout down the outer world so much as to shout down their
own inner enemy, viz. truth. —Tr.


## p. 355 (#507) ############################################

THE DAWN OF DAY. 355
5M.
To THE STRONGER. —Ye stronger and arrogant
intellects, we ask you for only one thing: throw no
further burdens upon our shoulders, but take some
of our burdens upon your own, since ye are stronger!
but ye delight in doing the exact contrary: for ye
wish to soar, so that we must carry your burden
in addition to our own—we must crawl!
5 15-
The Increase of Beauty. —Why has beauty
increased by the progress of civilisation? because
the three occasions for ugliness appear ever more
rarely among civilised men: first, the wildest out-
bursts of ecstasy; secondly, extreme bodily exer-
tion, and, thirdly, the necessity of inducing fear by
one's very sight and presence—a matter which is
so frequent and of so great importance in the lower
and more dangerous stages of culture that it even
lays down the proper gestures and ceremonials and
makes ugliness a duty.
516.
Not to Imbue our Neighbours with our
OWN Demon. —Let us in our age continue to hold
the belief that benevolence and beneficence are the
characteristics of a good man; but let us not fail
to add " provided that in the first place he exhibits
his benevolence and beneficence towards himself. "
For if he acts otherwise—that is to say, if he shuns,
hates, or injures himself—he is certainly not a good


## p. 356 (#508) ############################################

356 THE DAWN OF DAY.
man. He then merely saves himself through
others: and let these others take care that they
do not come to grief through him, however well
disposed he may appear to be to them I—but to
shun and hate one's own ego, and to live in and
for others, this has up to the present, with as much
thoughtlessness as conviction, been looked upon as
"unselfish," and consequently as " good. "
517-
Tempting into Love. —We ought to fear a
man who hates himself; for we are liable to become
the victims of his anger and revenge. Let us
therefore try to tempt him into self-love.
518.
Resignation. —What is resignation? It is the
most comfortable position of a patient, who, after
having suffered a long time from tormenting pains
in order to find it, at last became tired—and then
found it.
519-
Deception. —When you wish to act you must
close the door upon doubt, said a man of action. —
And are you not afraid of being deceived in doing
so? replied the man of a contemplative mind.
520.
Eternal Obsequies. —Both within and beyond
the confines of history we might imagine that we


## p. 357 (#509) ############################################

THE DAWN OF DAY. 357
were listening to a continual funeral oration: we
have buried, and are still burying, all that we have
loved best, our thoughts, and our hopes, receiving
in exchange pride, gloria mundi—that is, the pomp
of the graveside speech. It is thus that everything
is made good! Even at the present time the
funeral orator remains the greatest public bene-
factor.
521.
Exceptional Vanity. —Yonder man possesses
one great quality which serves as a consolation for
him: his look passes with contempt over the
remainder of his being, and almost his entire
character is included in this. But he recovers
from himself when, as it were, he approaches his
sanctuary; already the road leading to it appears
to him to be an ascent on broad soft steps—and
yet, ye cruel ones, ye call him vain on this account!
522.
Wisdom without Ears. —To hear every day
what is said about us, or even to endeavour to
discover what people think of us, will in the end
kill even the strongest man. Our neighbours
permit us to live only that they may exercise a daily
claim upon us! They certainly would not tolerate
us if we wished to claim rights over them, and
still less if we wished to be right! In short, let
us offer up a sacrifice to the general peace, let us
not listen when they speak of us, when they praise
us, blame us, wish for us, or hope for us—nay, let
us not even think of it.


## p. 358 (#510) ############################################

358 THE DAWN OF DAY.
523-
A Question of Penetration. —When we are
confronted with any manifestation which some one
has permitted us to see, we may ask: what is it
meant to conceal? What is it meant to draw our
attention from? What prejudices does it seek to
raise? and again, how far does the subtlety of the
dissimulation go?