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21 - Thus Spake Zarathustra - Friedrich Nietzsche · Logic Library

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  Part one, Chapter twenty one, voluntary death. Many die too late,
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  and some die too early. Yet strange soundeth the precept die at the right
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  time, die at the right time. So teacheth Zarathustra to be sure,
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  he who never liveth at the right time. How could he ever die at
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  the right time, would that he might never be borne? Thus do I
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  advise the superfluous ones. But even the superfluous ones make much ado about their
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  death, and even the hollowest nut wanteth to be crack'd. Every one regardeth
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  dying as a great matter. But as yet death is not a festival.
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  Not yet have people learn'd to inaugurate the finest festivals the consummating death. I
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  show unto you, which becometh a stimulus, and promise to the living his
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  death dieth the consummating one triumphantly surrounded by hoping and promising ones. Thus should
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  one learn to die, And there should be no festival at which such a
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  dying one doth not consecrate the oaths of the living. Thus to die is
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  best. The next best, however, is to die in battle and sacrifice
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  a great soul. But to the fighter equally hateful as to the victor is
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  your grinning death, which stealeth nigh like a thief, and yet cometh as
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  master my death. Praise I unto you, the voluntary death which cometh unto
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  me, because I want it, and when shall I want it? He
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  that hath a goal and an heir, wanteth death at the right time for
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  the goal and the air. And out of reverence for the goal and the
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  heir, he will hang up no more withered wreaths in the sanctuary of life.
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  Verily not the rope makers will I resemble. They lengthen out their cord,
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  and thereby go ever backward. Many a one also waxeth too old for
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  his truths and triumphs. A toothless mouth hath no longer the right to every
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  truth. And whoever wanteth to have fame must take leave of honor betimes and
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  practice the difficult art of going at the right time. One must discontinue being
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  feasted upon when one tasteth best that is known by those who want to be
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  long loved. Sour apples are there no doubt whose lot is to wait until
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  the life lost day of autumn. And at the same time they become ripe,
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  yellow and shriveled. In some ageth the heart first, and in others
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  the spirit. And some are hoary in youth. But the late young keep
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  long young. To many men, life is a failure. A poison worm
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  gnaweth at their heart. Then let them see to it that their dying is
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  all the more a success. Many never become sweet. They rot even in
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  the summer. It is cowardice that holdeth them fast to their branches. Far
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  too many live, and far too long hang they on their branches. Would
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  that a storm came and shook all this rottenness and worm eatenness from the tree.
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  Would that there came preachers of speedy death, those would be the appropriate
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  it storms and agitators of the trees of life. But I hear only slow
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  death preached, and patience with all that is earthly. Ah, ye preach
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  patience with what is earthly? This earthly? Is it that hath too much
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  patience with you, ye blasphemers. Verily too early died that Hebrew, whom
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  the preachers of slow death honor, And to many hath it proved a calamity
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  that he died too early, As yet had he known only tears and the
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  melancholy of the Hebrews, together with the hatred of the good and just the
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  Hebrew Jesus. Then was he seized with a longing for death. Had he
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  but remained in the wilderness and far from the good and just, then perhaps
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  would he have learned to live and love the earth and laughter. Also believeth,
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  my brethren, he died too early. He himself would have disavowed his
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  doctrine had he attained to my age. Noble enough was he to disavow.
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  But he was still immature. Immaturely loveth the youth, and immaturely also hateth
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  he Man and earth, confined and awkward, are still his soul and the
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  wings of his spirit. But in man there is more of the child than
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  in the youth, and less of melancholy. Better understandeth he about life and
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  death, free for death and free in death, a holy naysayer when there
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  is no longer time for YEA Thus understandeth he about death and life. That
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  your dying may not be a reproach to man and the earth. My friends,
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  that do I solicit from the honey of your soul In your dying,
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  shall your spirit and your virtue still shine like an evening after glow around the
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  earth. Otherwise your dying hath been unsatisfactory. Thus will I die myself that
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  ye friends may love the earth more for my sake, and Earth will I
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  again become to have rest in her that bore me verily a goal? Had
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  Zarathustra he threw his ball. Now, be ye friends, the heirs of
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  my goal, to you throw I the golden ball? Best of all?
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  Do I see you, my friends, throw the golden ball? And so
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  tarry I still a little while on the earth. Pardon me for it,
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  Thus spake Zarathustra. End of Part one, Chapter twenty one.