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05 - Thus Spake Zarathustra - Friedrich Nietzsche · Logic Library

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  Part one, Chapter five, Joys and Passions, My brother, When thou
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  hast a virtue, and it is thine own virtue, thou hast it in
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  common with no one to be sure thou wouldst call it by name and caress
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  it. Thou wouldst pull its ears and amuse thyself with it. And lo,
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  then hast thou its name in common with the people, and hast become
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  one of the people and the herd with thy virtue. Better for thee to
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  say, ineffable is it? And nameless that which is pain and sweetness to
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  my soul, and also the hunger of my bowels. Let thy virtue be
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  too high for the familiarity of names. And if thou must speak of it,
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  be not ashamed to stammer about it. Thus speak and stammer. That
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  is my good that do I love? Thus doth it and please me entirely.
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  Thus only do I desire the good as the law of a God.
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  Do I desire it? Not as a human law or a human need?
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  Do I desire it? It is not to be a guidepost for me to
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  super earths and paradises. An earthly virtue is it which I love? Little
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  prudence is therein and the least everyday wisdom. But that bird built its nest
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  beside me, Therefore I love and cherish it. Now sittth it beside me
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  on its golden eggs. Thus shouldst thou stammer and praise thy virtue. Once
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  hadst thou passions, and call'st them evil, But now hast thou only thy
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  virtues. They grew out of thy passions. Thou implantedest thy highest aim into
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  the heart of those passions. Then became they thy virtues and joys. And
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  though thou wert of the race, of the hot tempered, or of the
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  voluptuous, or of the fanatical or the vindictive, all thy passions, in
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  the end became virtues, and all thy devils angels. Once hadst thou wild
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  dogs in thy cellar, but they changed at last into birds and charming songstresses.
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  Out of thy poisons. Broodst thou balsam for thyself thy cow affliction milkedst
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  thou. Now drinkest thou the sweet milk of her utter. And nothing evil
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  groweth in thee any longer, unless it be the evil that groweth out of
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  the conflict of thy virtues. My brother, if thou be fortunate, then
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  wilt thou have one virtue and no more? Thus goest thou easier over the
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  bridge. Illustrious is it to have many virtues, but a hard lot and
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  many A one hath gone into the wilderness and killed himself because he was wary
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  of being the battle and battlefield of virtues, My brother, are war and
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  battle evil necessary? However is the evil necessary? Are the envy and the
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  distrust and the backbiting among the virtues? Lo, how each of thy virtues
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  is covetous of the highest place. It wanteth thy whole spirit to be its
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  herald. It wanteth thy whole power. In wrath, hatred, and love.
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  Jealous is every virtue of the others. And a dreadful thing is jealousy.
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  Even virtues may succumb by jealousy. He whom the flame of jealousy encompasseth
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  turneth at last like the scorpion, the poisoned sting against himself. Ah,
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  my brother, hast thou never seen a virtue backbite and stab itself? Man
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  is something that hath to be surpassed. And therefore shalt thou love thy virtues,
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  for thou wilt succumb by them. Thus Zarathustra,