Thus Spoke Zarathustra

1.

n my dream, in my last morning-dream, I stood to-day on a promontory—
beyond the world; I held a pair of scales, and WEIGHED the world.

Alas, that the rosy dawn came too early to me: she glowed me awake, the
jealous one! Jealous is she always of the glows of my morning-dream.

Measurable by him who hath time, weighable by a good weigher, attainable
by strong pinions, divinable by divine nut-crackers: thus did my dream
find the world:—

My dream, a bold sailor, half-ship, half-hurricane, silent as the
butterfly, impatient as the falcon: how had it the patience and leisure
to-day for world-weighing!

Did my wisdom perhaps speak secretly to it, my laughing, wide-awake
day-wisdom, which mocketh at all “infinite worlds”? For it saith: “Where
force is, there becometh NUMBER the master: it hath more force.”

How confidently did my dream contemplate this finite world, not
new-fangledly, not old-fangledly, not timidly, not entreatingly:—

—As if a big round apple presented itself to my hand, a ripe golden
apple, with a coolly-soft, velvety skin:—thus did the world present
itself unto me:—

—As if a tree nodded unto me, a broad-branched, strong-willed tree,
curved as a recline and a foot-stool for weary travellers: thus did the
world stand on my promontory:—

—As if delicate hands carried a casket towards me—a casket open for
the delectation of modest adoring eyes: thus did the world present
itself before me to-day:—

—Not riddle enough to scare human love from it, not solution enough
to put to sleep human wisdom:—a humanly good thing was the world to me
to-day, of which such bad things are said!

How I thank my morning-dream that I thus at to-day’s dawn, weighed
the world! As a humanly good thing did it come unto me, this dream and
heart-comforter!

And that I may do the like by day, and imitate and copy its best, now
will I put the three worst things on the scales, and weigh them humanly
well.—

He who taught to bless taught also to curse: what are the three best
cursed things in the world? These will I put on the scales.

VOLUPTUOUSNESS, PASSION FOR POWER, and SELFISHNESS: these three things
have hitherto been best cursed, and have been in worst and falsest
repute—these three things will I weigh humanly well.

Well! Here is my promontory, and there is the sea—IT rolleth hither
unto me, shaggily and fawningly, the old, faithful, hundred-headed
dog-monster that I love!—

Well! Here will I hold the scales over the weltering sea: and also a
witness do I choose to look on—thee, the anchorite-tree, thee, the
strong-odoured, broad-arched tree that I love!—

On what bridge goeth the now to the hereafter? By what constraint doth
the high stoop to the low? And what enjoineth even the highest still—to
grow upwards?—

Now stand the scales poised and at rest: three heavy questions have I
thrown in; three heavy answers carrieth the other scale.

2.

Voluptuousness: unto all hair-shirted despisers of the body, a sting and
stake; and, cursed as “the world,” by all backworldsmen: for it mocketh
and befooleth all erring, misinferring teachers.

Voluptuousness: to the rabble, the slow fire at which it is burnt;
to all wormy wood, to all stinking rags, the prepared heat and stew
furnace.

Voluptuousness: to free hearts, a thing innocent and free, the
garden-happiness of the earth, all the future’s thanks-overflow to the
present.

Voluptuousness: only to the withered a sweet poison; to the lion-willed,
however, the great cordial, and the reverently saved wine of wines.

Voluptuousness: the great symbolic happiness of a higher happiness
and highest hope. For to many is marriage promised, and more than
marriage,—

—To many that are more unknown to each other than man and woman:—and
who hath fully understood HOW UNKNOWN to each other are man and woman!

Voluptuousness:—but I will have hedges around my thoughts, and
even around my words, lest swine and libertine should break into my
gardens!—

Passion for power: the glowing scourge of the hardest of the heart-hard;
the cruel torture reserved for the cruellest themselves; the gloomy
flame of living pyres.

Passion for power: the wicked gadfly which is mounted on the vainest
peoples; the scorner of all uncertain virtue; which rideth on every
horse and on every pride.

Passion for power: the earthquake which breaketh and upbreaketh all
that is rotten and hollow; the rolling, rumbling, punitive demolisher
of whited sepulchres; the flashing interrogative-sign beside premature
answers.

Passion for power: before whose glance man creepeth and croucheth and
drudgeth, and becometh lower than the serpent and the swine:—until at
last great contempt crieth out of him—,

Passion for power: the terrible teacher of great contempt, which
preacheth to their face to cities and empires: “Away with thee!”—until
a voice crieth out of themselves: “Away with ME!”

Passion for power: which, however, mounteth alluringly even to the pure
and lonesome, and up to self-satisfied elevations, glowing like a love
that painteth purple felicities alluringly on earthly heavens.

Passion for power: but who would call it PASSION, when the height
longeth to stoop for power! Verily, nothing sick or diseased is there in
such longing and descending!

That the lonesome height may not for ever remain lonesome and
self-sufficing; that the mountains may come to the valleys and the winds
of the heights to the plains:—

Oh, who could find the right prenomen and honouring name for such
longing! “Bestowing virtue”—thus did Zarathustra once name the
unnamable.

And then it happened also,—and verily, it happened for the first
time!—that his word blessed SELFISHNESS, the wholesome, healthy
selfishness, that springeth from the powerful soul:—

—From the powerful soul, to which the high body appertaineth, the
handsome, triumphing, refreshing body, around which everything becometh
a mirror:

—The pliant, persuasive body, the dancer, whose symbol and epitome
is the self-enjoying soul. Of such bodies and souls the self-enjoyment
calleth itself “virtue.”

With its words of good and bad doth such self-enjoyment shelter itself
as with sacred groves; with the names of its happiness doth it banish
from itself everything contemptible.

Away from itself doth it banish everything cowardly; it saith:
“Bad—THAT IS cowardly!” Contemptible seem to it the ever-solicitous,
the sighing, the complaining, and whoever pick up the most trifling
advantage.

It despiseth also all bitter-sweet wisdom: for verily, there is also
wisdom that bloometh in the dark, a night-shade wisdom, which ever
sigheth: “All is vain!”

Shy distrust is regarded by it as base, and every one who wanteth oaths
instead of looks and hands: also all over-distrustful wisdom,—for such
is the mode of cowardly souls.

Baser still it regardeth the obsequious, doggish one, who immediately
lieth on his back, the submissive one; and there is also wisdom that is
submissive, and doggish, and pious, and obsequious.

Hateful to it altogether, and a loathing, is he who will never defend
himself, he who swalloweth down poisonous spittle and bad looks, the
all-too-patient one, the all-endurer, the all-satisfied one: for that is
the mode of slaves.

Whether they be servile before Gods and divine spurnings, or before men
and stupid human opinions: at ALL kinds of slaves doth it spit, this
blessed selfishness!

Bad: thus doth it call all that is spirit-broken, and
sordidly-servile—constrained, blinking eyes, depressed hearts, and the
false submissive style, which kisseth with broad cowardly lips.

And spurious wisdom: so doth it call all the wit that slaves, and
hoary-headed and weary ones affect; and especially all the cunning,
spurious-witted, curious-witted foolishness of priests!

The spurious wise, however, all the priests, the world-weary, and those
whose souls are of feminine and servile nature—oh, how hath their game
all along abused selfishness!

And precisely THAT was to be virtue and was to be called virtue—to
abuse selfishness! And “selfless”—so did they wish themselves with good
reason, all those world-weary cowards and cross-spiders!

But to all those cometh now the day, the change, the sword of judgment,
THE GREAT NOONTIDE: then shall many things be revealed!

And he who proclaimeth the EGO wholesome and holy, and selfishness
blessed, verily, he, the prognosticator, speaketh also what he knoweth:
“BEHOLD, IT COMETH, IT IS NIGH, THE GREAT NOONTIDE!”

Thus spake Zarathustra.