Chapter 41 Thus Spoke Zarathustra Book Two

thus spoke Zarathustra volume two despisers of the flesh I have a few words for the despisers of the flesh.I don't want them to change their methods of learning and teaching, I just want them to say goodbye to their own flesh -- and become dumb. "I am body and soul."—Said the child.Why don't they contemplate the same way? But the Enlightened One says, "I am the whole body and nothing else; the soul is the name of a part of the body." The flesh is one great intellect, a complex of one meaning, at the same time war and peace, flock and shepherd. My brother, your little mind - what you call "spirit" - is the instrument of your flesh, the gadget and plaything of your great mind.

You often say "I" and are proud of the word, but greater - and you would not believe it - is your body and its great intellect: it does not say "I", but does "I". All the senses of the five senses and the cognition of the spirit have no purpose in themselves.But sense and spirit would have you believe they are ends: they are so vain. Sensation and spirit are but tools and playthings: behind them, the "self" exists. "Myself" also uses the eyes of the senses and the ears of the mind. The "self" is always listening and searching: it struggles to overcome and destroys.

It rules.It is also the master of "I". After your thoughts and feelings, my brother, stands a mighty master, the philosopher unknown—that is the Self, which dwells in your body, which is your body. You have more intellect in your flesh than in your highest intellect.Who knows why your flesh needs your highest intelligence? Your "self" laughs at your "I" with its proud leaps.Who knows why your flesh needs your highest intelligence? Your "self" laughs at your "I" with its proud leaps. "What are these leaps and gallops of thought to me?" said "Myself" to myself. "It's just a side path to my goal. I am my limit and the reminder of all my ideas."

"I" said to "me": "Taste a little pain!" So "I" began to suffer, and thought about how to avoid pain. — it must think for this purpose. "I" said to "me": "Taste a little happiness." So "I" became happy and thought about how to enjoy happiness often. — it must think for this purpose. I would like to say a few words to the despisers of the flesh.Let them despise the flesh!This is their respect for the flesh.Who created respect and contempt, value and will? This creative "self" creates for itself respect and contempt, joy and pain.The creative flesh creates the spirit for itself as the hand of its will.

You despisers of the flesh, even in your madness and contempt, you also serve your Self.I tell you: your "selves" are willing to perish and escape life. It is incapable of doing what it would most like to do:--create something higher than itself. This is its strongest and most ardent hope. But it is too late now:—so, you despisers of the flesh, your "selves" are willing to perish. You are despisers of the flesh because your "selves" are willing to destroy!You cannot create that which is higher than you. You hate life and the earth, but an unconscious jealousy is revealed in your evil and contemptuous eyes.

Despisers of the flesh, I will not make your mistakes!You are by no means my bridge to Superman! —— Thus spake Zarathustra. joy and enthusiasm My brother, if you have a morality and it is your own, you must not share it with anyone else. Naturally, you want to give it a good name and caress it; you want to lift its ears and play games with it. But look!Once it gets the name you gave it, and the masses share it, then you will become one of the masses and ordinary people because of this morality! You should rather say: "That which makes my soul so sad and sweet is unspeakable; that which makes my heart hungry is nameless."

Let your morals be too noble to be called intimacy: if you must read it, you need not be ashamed, and you may as well say it regularly. You can chuckle and say, "This is the good that I cherish, it pleases me so much, and it is the good that I need. I need it not because it is God's law, or human regulation, or human necessity: it is never a guide to another world or to heaven. I love it as an earthly morality: it has not much wisdom, and much less reason. But the bird built his nest beside me: so I loved him tenderly—and now he is in my house with his golden eggs. " You should speak and extol your virtues thus periodically.

Once you had many passions, and you called them evil.But now you have only your morals, which were born from passion. You have placed your highest purpose in these passions: so they have become your virtues and pleasures. Even if you belong to the race of the angry, the carnal, the indulgent, or the vengeful: When all your passions will finally become morality; all your devils will finally become angels. There were many wild dogs in your cellar; but now they are birds and beautiful singers. Out of your poison you made your analgesic; you milked the cow of pain, - now you drink the sweet liquid.

No more evil will be born in you, except the evil produced by the struggle of multiple moralities. My brother, if you are lucky, you need only have one morality, and not more than one: it will be easier for you to cross the bridge. It is a beautiful thing to have multiple morals, but it is a more unbearable fate; many people, because they cannot be used as a battlefield for multiple morals, go to the desert to commit suicide. My brother, is war evil?This is a necessary evil; envy, slander, and mistrust are also necessary in your many virtues. look!What is the most coveted thing of every morality: it wants your whole spirit as its precursor, it needs all your strength in love, hatred and anger.

Morals are jealous of each other, and jealousy is terrible.Many kinds of morality can be killed by envy. A man surrounded by the flames of jealousy, like a scorpion, finally turns on himself with a poisonous sting. Alas, my brother, have you never seen a moral self-slander and suicide? Humans are to be surpassed: so cherish your morality:— Because you can die from it. Thus spake Zarathustra. pale criminal You judges and priests, of course you don't want to kill until the sacrifice has bowed its head?Look!The pale criminal bowed his head: his eyes showed his great contempt. "My ego is to be surpassed: my ego is my great contempt for man," said the criminal's eyes.

This is his moment of supremacy, his moment of self-judgment.Don't let this man who is lifted up be brought down to his low position again! Such a person who suffers because of himself cannot be saved except a quick death. Ah, judges, you should kill for pity and not for vengeance; when you kill, you must be careful to justify your life. It is not enough for you to make peace with those you have killed.Let your sorrow be love for the Superman: thus you legitimize your own immortality! You should only call him an "enemy" instead of a "villain"; you should only call him a "sick man" instead of a "rogue"; You, red judge, if you speak aloud what you have thought: thus will they all cry: "Get rid of this filth and venom!" But thought and action are two distinct things, and the image of action is yet another distinct thing.The wheel of karma does not spin among them. An image grayed the pale man.When he sins, he is capable of sinning: but when he is done, he cannot bear the sinful image. He always sees himself as the only completer of deeds.I call this crazy: In him the exception became the principle. A pink thread can confuse a chicken; the criminal's one blow confuses his poor sanity--I call this madness after the fact. Listen, Judge!There is another kind of madness: and that is ex ante.well! You haven't penetrated deeply into this soul yet! Thus says the red judge: "Why did the criminal kill? He wanted to rob." But, I tell you, his soul needs blood, not robbing at all: He longed for the blessing of the sword. But his poor reason, ignorant of this madness, determined his actions. "What's blood worth?" he said; "won't you take the opportunity to rob at least? Take revenge?" He believed his poor reason: his words hung over him like lead;--and when he killed, he plundered.He didn't want to be ashamed of his madness. Now the lead of his faults weighed upon him again, and his poor reason was so numb, paralyzed and heavy. If he could just shake his head, his load would roll off, but who shakes the head? What is this person?He is the corps of diseases; by his spirit these diseases stretch out in the world: there they seek their spoils. What is this person?A string of writhing serpents never at peace,— So they go out in the world looking for loot. Look at this poor shell!Its many pains and hopes, its poor soul tries to understand them.Its soul thought it was the pleasure and anxiety of crime, seeking the blessing of the sword. Now the sick man is assailed by the evil of the day: he wants to make others miserable with what pains him.But there were other ages, other good and evil. Once upon a time, doubt and personal ambition were sins.Then the sick become heathens and witches: like heathens and witches they afflict themselves and others. I know you don't want to listen to me: you think it would be harmful to the good among you, but what do you call the good to me! You so-called good have much that disgusts me; but that is not their evil.I only wish they would have a madness that makes them die like this pale criminal! Truly, I wish their madness was truth, or faithfulness, or justice; but they have their virtue, which is to live forever in wretched complacency. "I am the railing by the river; whoever can help me, help me! I am not your crutch.—" Thus spake Zarathustra. reading and writing As for all writing, I only love what the author wrote with his own painstaking efforts.Write with your soul: you will know that your soul is your spirit. It is not easy to understand other people's painstaking efforts: I hate all people who read for entertainment. Those who know their readers well will never write for them again.Another century of such readers--the spirit will rot. Letting everyone have the right to read will not only damage writing in the end, but even thinking will be damaged. Once the Spirit was God, then became man, now he has become the crowd. Whoever writes aphorisms with painstaking efforts, he does not want to be recited by people, but memorized by people. From this peak to that peak is the shortest distance between two mountains; but you must have long legs to take this route.Maxims should be the peaks of mountains; and those who hear them should be great and mighty. The light and pure air, the ever-present danger, the joyous evil in the spirit: all these are in harmony with each other. I would like the devil to surround me because I am brave.Bravery banishes ghosts and makes many demons self-made,—courage needs to laugh. My feelings are no longer the same as yours: I laugh at the blackness and bulkiness of the cloud below me,—but it is your dark cloud that stirs up the storm. When you wish to exalt, you look up.But I look down, because I am high up. Who among you can laugh and be on a high place at the same time? The person standing on the highest mountain laughs at all the true and false tragedies in life on the stage. Unscrupulous, contemptuous, tyrannical,--so wisdom teaches us: Wisdom is a woman who loves only a warrior. You say to me, "Life is hard to bear." Why, then, are you coquettish in the morning and condescending in the evening? Life is hard to bear: don't be so weak, then!We are all male donkeys and female donkeys carrying loads. What have we in common with the rosebud that trembles under a dewdrop? This is true: we love life not because we are used to life, but because we love it. There is always an element of madness in love.But there is always an element of reason in the same madness. In my life-lover's opinion, I feel that butterflies, soap bubbles, and everything that resembles them on earth know happiness best. When Zarathustra saw these frivolous, beautiful, restless little souls, he would weep and sing. I can only believe in a God who can dance. When I see my demon, I find him serene, fine, deep, and serious; this is the spirit of gravity:—by which all things fall. We kill not with anger, but with laughter.Come on, let us kill this serious spirit! I learned to walk: then I made myself run.I learned to fly: in the future I don't have to be pushed and pulled to change places. Now I am light, I fly; I see that I am above myself.A god dances on me. Thus spake Zarathustra. tree on hill Zarathustra found a boy who was always avoiding him.One night, he went for a walk on the high mountain beside Cainiu City, and he saw this young man sitting against a tree, looking tiredly at the deep valley.Zarathustra embraced the tree on which the youth sat, and said: "If I wanted to shake this tree with my hands, I couldn't. But the wind, which we cannot see, shakes and bends it at will.In the same way we are bent and shaken by invisible hands. " The youth stood up suddenly, and said, "I heard Zarathustra speak, and I was thinking of him!" Zarathustra replied: "Why are you frightened?—Man and tree are the same. The more he wants to grow to the bright heights, the deeper his roots go into the earth, into the depths of darkness—— into evil. " "Yes, into hell!" cried the boy. "How will you discover my soul?" Zarathustra smiled and said: "Many souls will never be found unless they are first made." "Yes, into evil!" the boy cried again. "You speak the truth, Zarathustra. I have no confidence in myself, and no one trusts me, since I wanted to ascend to the heights;—what is the cause of this? Scorn of those who seek to ascend What the hell is he trying to do up there? How am I ashamed of my ups and downs!How I mock my panting!How I hate the flying ones!How weary I am when I am on high! " So the boy fell silent.Zarathustra looked at the tree next to them and said thus: "The tree grew tall alone on the hill; it grew over man and beast. If it wants to talk, no one can understand it, it grows too tall. So it waited, waited - for what?It lives too close to the Cloud Seat: perhaps it waits for the first strike from thunder and fire? " When Zarathustra had finished speaking, the boy cried out with violent gestures: "Yes, Zarathustra, what you say is all truth. I only desire to reach the heights, but I desire my own downfall. You are the thunderbolt that I was waiting for! Look at me, what have I become since you came here? This is the jealousy of you that killed me!" - said the young man, and wept bitterly.Zarathustra put his arm around his waist, and led him away. They walked side by side for a few minutes, and Zarathustra spoke again: "My heart aches. Your eyes speak more clearly of the danger you run than your words. You are still not free; you are still seeking freedom.Your search keeps you awake like a sleepwalker. You want to go to the heights of freedom, your soul longs for the planet.But your bad instincts also yearn for freedom. Your wild dogs want to free themselves too; they howled in the cellar when your spirit tried to open the prison door. You still seem to me a prisoner dreaming of freedom: alas!Such a prisoner's soul becomes witty and at the same time cunning and wicked. Those who are spiritually free still have to purify themselves.There are still many prisons and dirt in his heart; your eyes must become pure. Yes, I know your danger.But with my love and hope, I beg you: don't abandon your love and your hope! You still think that you are noble, even those who hate you and look at you with malicious eyes think you are noble.You have to know: whoever sees a noble man as a hindrance. The noble man is also a hindrance to the good man: though the good man calls him good, it only casts him aside. Noble people want to create new things and new morals.Good people need old things and preserve old things. The danger of a noble man is not that he becomes good, but that he becomes shameless, scoffer, destroyer. well!I have known noble men who lost their highest hopes.Then they slander every noble hope. So they live shamelessly on short-lived pleasures, and they have no overnight plans. The spirit is also a kind of lust. — so they said.So their spirits snapped their wings: now they crawl and soil everything they bite. Before they wanted to be heroes; now they are just enjoyers.The idea of ​​a hero makes them miserable and frightened. But with my love and hope, I beg you: don't abandon the hero in your soul!Sanctify your highest hope! " Thus spake Zarathustra. preacher of death Some are preachers of death, and the world is full of those who should be advised to throw life away. The world is full of superfluous people; life has been marred by superfluous people.Let people use the bait of "eternal life" to lure them away from this life! Those in yellow or those in black: so are these preachers of death called.But I will show you another color of them. The scariest of them all has the heart of a beast.There is no alternative to carnality or self-mutilation.Is their carnal desire or self-mutilation. These horrible creatures will not yet become men: let them preach their hatred of life!Let them go! They are the consumptives of the soul: as soon as they are born, they begin to die, and they hope for the doctrine of boredom and resignation. They are willing to die, and we should support their claim!We must not resurrect the dead, or damage these living coffins. If they meet a sick person, or an old man, or even a dead body, they immediately say: "Life is overturned!" But it was themselves who were overthrown, and their eyes which saw only one aspect of existence. They live in thick melancholy, greedy for deadly little adventures: thus they wait with gnashed teeth. Or they reach out to candy, and laugh at their own childishness: they hang their lives on a blade of grass, and laugh at themselves still hanging there. Their wisdom says: "He who is alive is mad; yet we are just that mad! This is the greatest madness of life!" "Life is but pain!" - so others say, and this is not a lie: try, then, to stop living!Stop living a life of mere pain! And here is your moral lesson: "You should kill yourself! You should steal yourself—" "Pleasure is sin." - said the first preachers of death. —— "Let's avoid it, let's not have children!" "Birth is hard work."—says the second batch. ——"Why do you still give birth? People only give birth to some unfortunate people!" This group of people is also a preacher of death. "Mercy is necessary,"—said the third batch. "Take what belongs to me! Take me away?I will be less connected to life. " If they are thoroughly merciful, they will make their neighbors also hate life.To do evil—that would be their true good. But they want to throw life away; if their chains and gifts bind others more tightly, how can they care! —— And you, your life is anxiety and toil: are you not weary of life?Are you not mature enough to accept the preaching of death? You both love drudgery and all that is quick and new,--you have suffered enough of life, and your industry is but a self-forgotten flight and will. If you have faith in life, you will not abandon yourself to the present moment.But your inner worth is not enough, so you cannot wait,--not even be lazy! The voice of the preacher of death rings everywhere, and the world is full of men who should be counseled to die. Or that the world is full of the kind of people who should be advised to seek "eternal life", which is just one thing to me--if only they go quickly! Thus spake Zarathustra. war and warrior We would not like our best enemies to be pampered, nor those whom we truly love.So let me tell you the truth! Fighting brothers!I love you from the bottom of my heart.I am, and I have been your companion; and I am your worst enemy.So let me tell you the truth! I am not at a loss for the resentment and jealousy in your hearts.You are not so great that you do not know resentment and envy.So, be great, don't be ashamed of this! If you cannot be sages of knowledge, at least be warriors of knowledge.The warrior of knowledge is the companion and herald of this sanctity. I see many soldiers; let me see many warriors!What they wear is called a uniform.What they hide inside, shouldn't it be "uniform" uniform! You should be those whose eyes are always seeking their enemies—seeking your enemies.Some of you should express resentment at first glance. You should seek out your enemies; you should fight, fight for your ideas!If your minds are overcome, your loyalty should still shout victory! You should love peace as a means to future wars.You should love short-term peace more than long-term peace. I do not advise you to work, only to fight.I do not advise you of peace, but of victory.Let your work be a struggle and your peace a victory! Do you agree to advocate the sanctification of war?I tell you: your bravery, not your mercy, has saved many victims. "What is good?" you ask.It's good to be brave.Let the little girls say: "What is beautiful and touching is good." People accuse you of being heartless; but your hearts are real, and I love your earnest shyness.You are ashamed of your tide, others are ashamed of their back wave. Are you ugly?Bros!Even if it's ugly!Wrap you in the hideous mantle of glory! As your soul grows great, it also becomes proud.In your sublime there is evil.I know you. The proud and the weak meet in evil.But they don't understand each other.I know you. Your enemies should be hated, not contemptible.Be proud of the enemy: so the success of the enemy is also your success. Rebellion—this is the value of a slave.What is valuable about you is obedience, let your orders be obedience! A good fighter likes not "I will" but "you shall".Everything you like, you should first let others order it to you. Let your love of life be your love of your highest hope: Let your highest hope be the highest ideal of life! But your highest ideal, I command you, is this: Human beings are to be surpassed. So live your life of obedience and battle!What is the meaning of longevity!Which soldier would like to be pitied! I do not pity you, brothers in battle, I love you from the bottom of my heart! —— Thus spake Zarathustra. new idol Brothers, there are peoples and peoples elsewhere, but not here: we have only states. nation?what is this?Stretch out your ears!I will tell you how nations die. The state is the cruelest of cruel monsters.He lied cruelly; this is the lie that creeps out of his mouth: "I, the country, am the nation." This is a lie!Those who create peoples and set them up with a faith and a love are creators; thus they serve life. Those who lay traps for the majority, and call these traps States, are destroyers: they hang a knife and carnality over the nation. Wherever there are nations, the state does not exist.They loathe the state as an ominous person, as a crime against custom and law. I give you this sign: each nation has its own peculiar language of good and evil: which their neighbors cannot understand.Every nation has made its language out of its customs and laws. But the state lies in every language of good and evil; all its words are lies: it steals everything. And everything about it is fake; it bites with stolen teeth.Its guts are also hypocritical. Mixture of languages ​​of good and evil: I give you this, for the sign of the nation.Verily, what this sign signifies is the will to die!Verily, it attracts the preachers of death! The world is full of superfluous people: for these superfluous people the state was invented!See how it absorbs extra people!how they were devoured, chewed and digested! "There is nothing greater than me in the world: I am God's commanding finger."— The monster howled like this.Those who kneel down are not only short-sighted people! well!To you too, you great souls, it whispers its frightening lies!well!It guesses the rich hearts of these voluntary consumers! Verily, it has guessed you, you victors of the old God!Old battles wear you out, and now your weariness is cast upon new idols. It is looking for a man of heroes and honor to be its right hand, the new idol!It loves to bask in the sun of conscience—the cruel monster! It will give you anything if you will worship it, the new idol! So it has bought your moral splendor and your haughty gaze. You will be used as bait to catch the extras!Yes, it invented a poisonous trick, a horse of death, jingling with the saddle of fame! Yes, it determined the death of many, a death that boasted itself as life: Verily, to the preacher of death, that is a great service! I recognize the state as the place where the good and the bad eat poison; the state as the place where the good and the wicked perish; Just look at these superfluous people!They steal the work of inventors and the treasures of wise men: they call this theft civilization. ——But everything that meets them turns into disease and disaster! Just look at these superfluous people!They are always sick; they spit out their livers and call this a newspaper.They devour each other, but cannot digest each other. Just look at these superfluous people!The more they accumulate wealth, the poorer they become.They crave power, especially power and a lot of money, these incompetents! Watch them crawl!These nimble monkeys!They climbed each other, and in the deep pits of the earth, pushed each other. They all want to be near the throne: this is their madness,--it seems happy to sit there!In fact, it is often the clay that sits on the throne—and the throne is often in the clay. I thought they were madmen, crawling monkeys and feverish ones.Their idol, the grim monster, is rotten; their idolaters are rotten. Brothers, are you willing to suffocate in the breath of their blood and in their lusts? Rather break the window and jump out! Avoid the stench!Stay away from the idolatry of superfluous people! Avoid the stench!Stay away from the smoke of these human sacrifices! Now, great souls can also find a free life on the earth.There are still many places where hermits can hide alone or in groups.There the breath of the silent sea blows. Great souls can also enjoy a free life.Verily, the less a man possesses, the less he is possessed: mild poverty is blessed! Where the state disappears, the necessary people begin to exist; the singing of the necessary people, the unique melody, begins. Where the state has perished,--look, brothers!Don't you see the rainbow and the bridge of Superman? —— Thus spake Zarathustra. market fly Flee, friend, to your solitude!I see that you are dazzled by the noise of great men, and wounded by the pricks of small ones. Forest and rock know that solemn silence is with you.Learn again the long-armed tree you love: silently it bends over the sea and listens. The market begins where solitude ceases; where the market begins, so does the tumult of great actors and the camp of poisonous flies. Even the greatest good in the world is not valued without its performers; and the crowd honors these performers as great men. The fact that the masses do not understand greatness means that they do not understand creativity.But they have a great appreciation for the performers and actors of all great enterprises. The world revolves around the inventor of new values: -- it revolves invisible.People and honor revolve around actors: so the world goes. Actors also have spirit, but they don't have the self-awareness of spirit.He believed in everything that got him the best results—and in everything that made others believe in him! Tomorrow he will have a new faith, and the day after tomorrow a renewed faith.Like the crowd, he is keen in perception and unstable in temperament. Turning truth upside down—this is what he calls proof.Dazzling,—that's what he calls persuasion.He considered blood to be the strongest of all arguments. A truth, if it can only be appealed to the ear quietly, is a lie and empty words to him.Really, he only believes in God who makes a lot of noise in the world! The marketplace is full of buffoons who look like they're serious, -- and the crowd is dazzled by these big men: they see them as the masters of the day. But time is pressing on them: so they are pressing on you.They want you to say yes or no.well!Do you want to put your chair between the two? O lover of truth, do not envy these absolute and busy ones!Truth has never held the arm of the Absolute. Get away from these clamoring ones, and go back to your safety: only in the marketplace is one bound by yes and no. Shen Jing's recognition is very slow: Shen Jing has to wait for a long time before he knows what is falling below. All great things always happen far away from the market and honor: the inventor of new value always lives far away from the market and honor. Flee, friend, into your solitude: I see that your whole body is ravaged by poisonous flies.Flee to where the violent wind blows! Flee to your solitude!Your life is too close to gadgets and wretches.Flee before their invisible vengeance!They just want revenge on you. Do not reach out to resist them!They outnumber the sands of the Ganges, and your fate is not the swatter. These trinkets and wretches are innumerable; many towering mansions have been toppled by raindrops and bad weeds. You are not a rock, yet many raindrops have dripped through you.Many more raindrops will cut you apart and crush you. I see that you are weary with poisonous flies; you are bleeding in many places; yet pride makes you disdain anger. They thirst for your blood without scruple; that is what their anemic souls need, - they sting without scruple. But you are deep, even a slight injury can cause you severe pain; and before you are healed, these poisons climbed onto your hands again. I know you are too proud to kill these gluttons.But take care; don't let you be doomed to bear all their malice! They surround you with praises: their praises are but annoyance to you.They want to be close to your skin and blood. They flatter you as they flatter a god or a devil; they weep to you as to a god or a devil.How boring!They are sycophants and weepers, and nothing else. They are always kind to you.But this is the wisdom of the cowardly.yes!Cowards are witty! They think about you with narrow souls—they think you are always suspicious!Anything that makes one think twice is always suspicious. They punish you for all your morals.In the depths of their hearts, they only want to forgive - your mistakes. Your kindness and integrity make you say, "They are innocent of their mean existence." But their small souls think, "All great existence is guilty." Though you are kind to them, they feel that you despise them; they reward your kindness with secret evil. Your silent haughtiness always offends them: they love it when you happen to be humble enough to be frivolous. We see something in a person, and at the same time we set that thing ablaze in that person.So stay away from villains! They are in front of you, feeling small, and their baseness burns into invisible vengeance for defying you. Don't you think they fall silent when you approach them?Do you not see that their strength forsakes them like smoke from a dying fire? Yea, friend, you call upon the consciences of your neighbors: for they are not worthy of you.So they hate you and want to suck your blood. Thy neighbors are ever poisonous flies; thy greatness--it shall make them more poisonous, more like flies. Flee, friend, to your solitude!Flee to the solitude where the violent wind blows!Your destiny is not a swatter. —— Thus spake Zarathustra. Abstinence I love forests.It is not good to live in the cities; there are too many carnal people. Is it not better to fall into the hands of a murderer than into the dreams of a carnal woman? Look at these men: their eyes tell it,--they know nothing on earth more than to enjoy a woman. The depths of their souls are full of mud; what a pity that their mud still has spirit! Let you at least be as perfect as the beasts!But beasts also have innocence. Am I advising you to extinguish the instinct?I only advise you to keep your instincts innocent. Do I advise you to abstinence?Abstinence is a virtue to some, and almost a sin to many others. True, the latter are self-controlled: but the sensuality is jealously reflected in their conduct. Even in their culmination of morality and coolness of soul, the beast haunts them and disturbs them. How the carnal dog begs for a piece of spirit with kindness and love when it has no piece of meat! Do you love tragedies and all things sad?But I can't trust your carnal dogs. I think your eyes are too cruel, and you sensually spy on the sufferer. Is not your lewdness disguised and called pity? Let me give you this analogy: There are not a few people who want to drive out the devil and get their hands on the Tao. Abstinence is to be abandoned if it causes pain; otherwise it becomes the way of hell—in other words, the uncleanness of the soul and the lust of the flesh. Am I speaking unclean things?I don't think that's the worst thing about it. A seeker of knowledge is reluctant to plunge into the waters of truth because of the shallowness of the truth, not because of the uncleanness of the truth. Verily, many are essentially chaste: their hearts are softer.They laugh better and more often than you. They also laugh at asceticism, they ask, "What is asceticism? Isn't abstinence crazy?But this madness comes to us, not us to it. To this guest we give our hearts and our houses: now he lives with us—let him stay as long as he pleases! " Thus spake Zarathustra. friend "There is always someone superfluous around me."——The hermit thinks so. "Always one—this will eventually become two!" I am often in too heated a conversation with myself: how can I bear without a friend? A friend to a hermit is always a third person: the third person is the driftwood that prevents the conversation of two people from sinking to the depths. well!The hermits are much deeper.So they look for a friend to lead them up from time to time. Where we trust others is showing where we would like to be confident and fail to.Our desire for friends betrays our weakness. One often overcomes jealousy with love.He often attacks and makes himself an enemy, in order to hide his slander. "Be at least my enemy!"—says true reverence, which dares not ask for friendship. If a man needs friends, he must be willing to fight for them: therefore, in order to fight, he must have the ability to be an enemy. We should respect the enemy in our friend.Can you get very close to your friend without offending him? Your friends should be your best enemies.When you resist him, you should be closest to his heart. Would you rather not get dressed before your friends?Do you honor your friend by revealing your truth to him?No wonder he cursed you to fall into the evil way! Whoever does not know how to conceal himself only makes others angry: so fear nakedness all the more!Yea, if you were gods, you could be ashamed of your clothes. For your friend, the more you adorn the better: for you shall be his arrow and hope to Superman. In order to know the truth about your friend, have you ever seen him sleeping?What is his appearance like?It is your own countenance in a rough and imperfect mirror. Have you ever seen your friend sleep?Are you frustrated by his appearance? O friend, man is to be surpassed. A friend should be a contemplative and silent expert: you don't have to wish to see everything.Your dreams should tell you of your friend's waking deeds. Your sympathy should also be a guess: you know whether your friends are willing to accept your sympathy.Maybe he likes your deadpan eyes and stern disregard. Sympathy for a friend should be concealed in a hard shell that can break teeth; thus, it will be full of tenderness and sweetness. Can you offer your friend solitude and fresh air, bread and medicine?Many cannot free themselves from chains, but are a friend's savior. are you a slaveWell, you can't be friends.Are you a tyrant?Well, you can't have friends. For ages a slave and a tyrant hid in woman.That is why a woman does not understand friendship: she only understands love. A woman in love is often prejudiced and blind about all that she does not love.Even in a woman's self-conscious love, beside the light, there are always violent changes, lightning and night. Women don't yet understand friendship: they're always cats and birds.Or to put it best, a cow. Women do not yet understand friendship.But tell me, you men, who understands friendship? Ah!Poor man!Curse the poverty and greed of your souls!What you give to your friends, I give to my enemies; and I am not the poorer for it. There is a partnership; there must be friendship! Thus spake Zarathustra.