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22 - Thus Spake Zarathustra - Friedrich Nietzsche · Logic Library

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  Part one, Chapter twenty two, The bestowing Virtue. One. When Zarathustra
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  had taken leave of the town to which his heart was attached, the name
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  of which is the Pied Cow, there followed him many people, who called
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  themselves his disciples, and kept him company. Thus came they to a cross
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  road. Then Zarathustra told them that he now wanted to go alone, for
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  he was fond of going alone. His disciples, however, presented him at
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  his departure with a staff on the golden handle of which a serpent twined round
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  the sun. Zarathustra rejoiced on account of the staff, and supported himself thereon.
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  Then spake he thus to his disciples, Tell me pray how came gold
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  to the highest value? Because it is uncommon and unprofiting, and beaming and
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  soft in luster, it always bestoweth itself only as image of the highest virtue.
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  Came gold to the highest value. Goldlike beameth the glance of the bestower.
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  Gold luster maketh peace between moon and sun. Uncommon is the highest virtue,
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  and unprofiting, beaming is it, and soft of luster, A bestowing
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  virtue is the highest virtue. Verily, I divine you well, my disciples,
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  Ye strive like me for the bestowing virtue. What should ye have in
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  common with cats and wolves? It is your thirst to become sacrifices and gifts
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  yourselves. And therefore have ye the thirst to accumulate all riches in your soul.
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  Insatiably striveth your soul for treasures and jewels. Because your virtue is insatiable.
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  In desiring to bestow, ye constrain all things to flow towards you and
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  into you, so that they shall flow back again out of your fountain as
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  the gifts of your love. Verily, an appropriator of all values, must
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  such bestowing love become but healthy and holy call I this selfishness. Another selfishness
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  is there, and all too poor and hungry kind which would always steal the
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  selfishness of the sick, the sickly selfishness with the eye of the thief.
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  It looketh upon all that is lustrous, with the craving of hunger. It
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  measureth him who hath abundance, and ever doth it prowl round the tables of
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  bestowers. Sickness speaketh. In such craving and invisible degeneration of a sickly body,
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  speaketh the larcenous craving of this selfishness. Tell me, my brother,
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  what do we think bad? And worst of all? Is it not degeneration?
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  And we always suspect degeneration when the bestowing soul is lacking. Upward goeth
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  our course from genera on too, super genera. But a horror to us
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  is the degenerating sense, which saith all for myself. Upward soareth our sense.
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  Thus is it a simile of our body, a simile of an elevation.
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  Such similes of elevations are the names of the virtues. Thus goeth the
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  body through history a becomer and fighter, and the spirit. What is it
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  to the body, its fights and victories, herald, its companion and echo?
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  Similes are all names of good and evil. They do not speak out.
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  They only hint a fool who seeketh knowledge from them. Give heed,
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  my brethren, to every hour when your spirit would speak in similes, there
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  is the origin of your virtue. Elevated is then your body, and raised
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  up with its delight enraptureth it the spirit, so that it becometh creator and
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  valuer and lover and everything's benefactor. When your heart overfloweth broad and full like
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  the river, a blessing and a danger to the lowlanders. There is the
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  origin of your virtue when ye are exalted above praise and blame, and your
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  will would command all things as a loving one's will. There is the origin
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  of your virtue when ye despise pleasant things, and the effeminate couch, and
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  cannot couch far enough from the effeminate. There is the origin of your virtue
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  when ye are willers of one will, and when that chain of every need
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  is needful to you. There is the origin of your virtue. Verily,
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  a new good and evil is it? Verily a new deep murmuring, and
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  the voice of a new fountain power is it? This new virtue? A
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  ruling thought? Is it? And around it a subtle soul, a golden
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  sun, with a serpent of knowledge around it. Two here paused Zarathustra awhile
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  and looked lovingly on his disciples. Then he continued to speak thus, and
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  his voice had changed. Remain true to the earth, my brethren, with
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  the power of your virtue. Let your bestowing love and your knowledge be devoted
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  to be the meaning of the earth. Thus do I pray and conjure you,
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  let it not fly away from the earthly and beat against eternal walls with
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  its wings. Ah, there hath always been so much flown away virtue lead
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  like me, the flown away virtue back to the earth, YEA, back
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  to body and life, that it may give to the earth its meaning,
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  a human meaning. A hundred times hitherto hath spirit as well as virtue flown
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  away and blunder'd alas in our body, dwelleth still all this delusion and blundering
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  body, and will hath it there become a hundred times hitherto hath spirit as
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  well as virtue attempted and erred, yea, an attempt hath man been alas
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  much ignorance and error hath become embodied in us? Not only the rationality of
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  millenniums, also their madness breaketh out in us. Dangerous is it to be
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  an heir? Still? Fight we step by step with a giant chance,
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  and over all mankind hath hitherto ruled nonsense, the lack of sense. Let
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  your spirit and your virtue be devoted to the sense of the earth, My
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  brethren, Let the value of everything be determined anew by you. Therefore shall
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  ye be fighters. Therefore shall ye be creators intelligently, doth the body purify
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  itself, attempting with intelligence it exalteth itself to the discerners. All impulses sanctify
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  themselves to the exalted. The soul becometh joyful physician. Heal thyself. Then
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  wilt thou also heal thy patient. Let it be his best cure to see
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  with his eyes him who maketh himself whole. A thousand paths are there which
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  have never yet been trodden, a thousand salubrities and hidden islands of life,
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  unexhausted and undiscover'd. Is still man and man's world awake and hearken. Ye,
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  lonesome ones from the future come winds with stealthy pinions, and to fine
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  ears good tidings are proclaim'd, ye, lonesome ones of to day ye seceding
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  ones, Ye shall one day be a people out of you who have chosen
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  yourselves. Shall a chosen people arise, and out of it the superman verily
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  a place of of healing. Shall the earth become? And already is a
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  new odor diffused around it, a salvation bringing odor and a new hope.
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  Three. When Zarathustra had spoken these words, he paused like one who had
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  not said his last word. And long did he balance the staff doubtfully in
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  his hand. At last he spake thus, and his voice had changed.
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  I now go alone, my disciples. Ye also now go away and alone.
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  So will I have it? Verily? I advise you depart from me
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  and guard yourselves against Zarathustra, and better still be ashamed of him. Perhaps
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  he hath deceived you. The man of knowledge must be able not only to
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  love his enemies, but also to hate his friends. One requiteth a teacher
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  badly if one remain merely a scholar? And why will ye not pluck at
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  my wreath? Ye venerate me? But what if your veneration should some day
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  collapse? Take heed? Lest a statue crush you? Ye say, ye
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  believe in Zarathustra. But of what account is Zarathustra? Ye are my believers,
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  But of what account are all believers? Ye had not yet sought yourselves?
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  Then did ye find me? So do all believers. Therefore all belief
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  is of so little account. Now do I bid you lose me and find
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  yourselves. And only when ye have all denied me, will I return unto
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  you. Verily with other eyes, my brethren, Shall I then seek my
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  lost ones with another love? Shall I then love you? And once again
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  shall ye have become friends unto me and children of one hope? Then will
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  I be with you for the third time, to celebrate the Great Noontide with
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  you? And it is the Great Noontide when man is in the middle of
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  his course between animal and superman, and celebrateth his advance to the evening as
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  his highest hope, For it is the advance to a new morning. At
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  such time will the down goer bless himself that he should be an over goer
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  and the sun of his knowledge will be at Noontide? Dead? Are all
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  the gods? Now? Do we desire the superman to live? Let this
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  be our final will at the Great Noontide, Thus spake Zarathustra. End of
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  Part one, Chapter twenty two.