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17 - Thus Spake Zarathustra - Friedrich Nietzsche · The Philosophy Insights Collection

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  Part one, Chapter seventeen, The way of the creating One? Wouldst thou
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  go into isolation? My brother? Wouldst thou seek the way unto thyself,
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  tarry yet a little, and hearken unto me? He who seeketh may easily
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  get lost himself. All isolation is wrong, so say the herd, And
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  long didst thou belong to the herd? The voice of the herd will still
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  echo in thee. And when thou sayest I have no longer a conscience in
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  common with you, then will it be a plaint and a pain lo That
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  pain itself did the same conscience produce, And the last gleam of that conscience
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  still gloweth on thine affliction. But thou wouldst go the way of thine affliction,
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  which is the way unto thyself. Then show me thine authority and thy
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  strength to do so? Oh, art thou a new strength and a new
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  authority, a first motion, a self rolling wheel. Canst thou also compel
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  stars to revolve around thee? Alas there is so much lusting for loftiness,
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  there are so many convolutions of the ambitions. Show me that thou art not
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  a lusting and ambitious one. Alas there are so many great thoughts that do
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  nothing more than the bellows they inflate and make emptier than ever. Free,
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  dost thou call thyself thy ruling thought? What I hear of? And not
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  that thou hast escaped from a yoke? Art thou one entitled to escape from
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  a yoke? Many a one hath cast away as final worth, when he
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  hath cast away his servitude free from what? What doth that matter to Zarathustra?
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  Clearly, however, shall thine eye show unto me? Free? For
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  what canst thou give unto thyself thy bad and thy good, and set up
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  thy will as a law over thee? Canst thou be judge for thyself and
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  avenger of thy law? Terrible is a loneness with the judge and avenger of
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  one's own law. Thus is a star projected into desert space and into the
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  icy breath of a loneness. Today, sufferest thou from the multitude thou individual.
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  Today hast thou still thy courage unabated and thy hopes. But one day
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  will the solitude weary thee? One day will thy pride yield and thy courage
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  quail? Thou wilt One day cry I am alone. One day wilt thou
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  see no longer thy loftiness, and see too closely thy lowliness, Thy sublimity
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  itself will frighten THEE as a phantom. Thou wilt one day cry all is
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  false. There are feelings which seek to slay the lonesome one. If they
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  do not succeed, then must they themselves die? But art thou capable of
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  it to be a murderer? Hast thou ever known, my brother, the
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  word disdain and the anguish of thy justice? In being just to those that
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  disdain thee, Thou forcest many to think differently about THEE that charge they heavily
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  to thine account. Thou camest nigh unto them, and yet wentest past,
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  for that they never forgive THEE. Thou goest beyond them. But the higher
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  thou risest, the smaller doth the eye of envy see THEE. Most of
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  all, however, is the flying one hated? How could ye be just
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  unto me? Must thou say, chose your injustice as my allotted portion?
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  Injustice? And filth cast they at the lonesome one. But my brother,
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  if thou wouldst be a star, thou must shine for them nonetheless on that
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  account, and be on thy guard against thy good and just, they would
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  fain crucify those who devise their own virtue. They hate the lonesome ones.
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  Be on thy guard also against holy simplicity. All is unholy to it that
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  is not simple fain Likewise would it play with the fire of the faggot and
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  steak, And be on thy guard also against the assaults of thy love.
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  To readily doth the recluse reach his hand to anyone who meeteth him. To
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  many a one mayst thou not give thy hand, but only thy paw.
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  And I wish thy paw also to have clause. But the worst enemy thou
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  canst meet, wilt thou thyself always be thou waylayest thyself in caverns and forests,
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  Thou lonesome one, Thou goest the way to thyself, and pass thyself,
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  and thy seven devils leadeth thy way. A heretic, wilt thou be
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  to thyself, and a wizard, and a soothsayer, and a fool,
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  and a doubter, and a reprobate and a villain. Ready must thou be
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  to burn thyself in thine own flame. How couldst thou become new, if
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  thou have not first become ashes. Thou lonesomee, thou goest the way of
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  the creating one. A god, wilt thou create for thyself out of thy
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  seven devils, Thou lonesome one, thou ghost the way of the loving one.
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  Thou lovest thyself, And on that account despisest thou thyself, as only
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  the loving ones despise to create. Desireth the love one. Because he despiseth
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  what knoweth he of love, who hath not been obliged to despise just what
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  he loved. With thy love, go into thine isolation, my brother,
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  and with thy creating and late only will justice limp after thee. With my
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  tears, go into thine isolation, my brother. I love him who seeketh
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  to create beyond himself, and thus succumbeth. Thus spake Zarathustra. End of
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  Part one, Chapter seventeen.