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is still man and man’s world.

      Awake and hearken, ye lonesome ones! From the future come winds with stealthy pinions, and to fine ears good tidings are proclaimed.

      Ye lonesome ones of to-day, ye seceding ones, ye shall one day be a people: out of you who have chosen yourselves, shall a chosen people arise: – and out of it the Superman.

      Verily, a place of healing shall the earth become! And already is a new odour diffused around it, a salvation-bringing odour – and a new hope!

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      When Zarathustra had spoken these words, he paused, like one who had not said his last word; and long did he balance the staff doubtfully in his hand. At last he spake thus – and his voice had changed:

      I now go alone, my disciples! Ye also now go away, and alone! So will I have it.

      Verily, I advise you: depart from me, and guard yourselves against Zarathustra! And better still: be ashamed of him! Perhaps he hath deceived you.

      The man of knowledge must be able not only to love his enemies, but also to hate his friends.

      One requiteth a teacher badly if one remain merely a scholar. And why will ye not pluck at my wreath?

      Ye venerate me; but what if your veneration should some day collapse? Take heed lest a statue crush you!

      Ye say, ye believe in Zarathustra? But of what account is Zarathustra! Ye are my believers: but of what account are all believers!

      Ye had not yet sought yourselves: then did ye find me. So do all believers; therefore all belief is of so little account.

      Now do I bid you lose me and find yourselves; and only when ye have all denied me, will I return unto you.

      Verily, with other eyes, my brethren, shall I then seek my lost ones; with another love shall I then love you.

      And once again shall ye have become friends unto me, and children of one hope: then will I be with you for the third time, to celebrate the great noontide with you.

      And it is the great noontide, when man is in the middle of his course between animal and Superman, and celebrateth his advance to the evening as his highest hope: for it is the advance to a new morning.

      At such time will the down-goer bless himself, that he should be an over-goer; and the sun of his knowledge will be at noontide.

      “DEAD ARE ALL THE GODS: NOW DO WE DESIRE THE SUPERMAN TO LIVE.” – Let this be our final will at the great noontide! —

      Thus spake Zarathustra.

      THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA. SECOND PART

“ – and only when ye have all denied me, will I return unto you

      Verily, with other eyes, my brethren, shall I then seek my lost ones; with another love shall I then love you.” – ZARATHUSTRA, I., “The Bestowing Virtue.”

      XXIII. THE CHILD WITH THE MIRROR

      After this Zarathustra returned again into the mountains to the solitude of his cave, and withdrew himself from men, waiting like a sower who hath scattered his seed. His soul, however, became impatient and full of longing for those whom he loved: because he had still much to give them. For this is hardest of all: to close the open hand out of love, and keep modest as a giver.

      Thus passed with the lonesome one months and years; his wisdom meanwhile increased, and caused him pain by its abundance.

      One morning, however, he awoke ere the rosy dawn, and having meditated long on his couch, at last spake thus to his heart:

      Why did I startle in my dream, so that I awoke? Did not a child come to me, carrying a mirror?

      “O Zarathustra” – said the child unto me – “look at thyself in the mirror!”

      But when I looked into the mirror, I shrieked, and my heart throbbed: for not myself did I see therein, but a devil’s grimace and derision.

      Verily, all too well do I understand the dream’s portent and monition: my DOCTRINE is in danger; tares want to be called wheat!

      Mine enemies have grown powerful and have disfigured the likeness of my doctrine, so that my dearest ones have to blush for the gifts that I gave them.

      Lost are my friends; the hour hath come for me to seek my lost ones! —

      With these words Zarathustra started up, not however like a person in anguish seeking relief, but rather like a seer and a singer whom the spirit inspireth. With amazement did his eagle and serpent gaze upon him: for a coming bliss overspread his countenance like the rosy dawn.

      What hath happened unto me, mine animals? – said Zarathustra. Am I not transformed? Hath not bliss come unto me like a whirlwind?

      Foolish is my happiness, and foolish things will it speak: it is still too young – so have patience with it!

      Wounded am I by my happiness: all sufferers shall be physicians unto me!

      To my friends can I again go down, and also to mine enemies! Zarathustra can again speak and bestow, and show his best love to his loved ones!

      My impatient love overfloweth in streams, – down towards sunrise and sunset. Out of silent mountains and storms of affliction, rusheth my soul into the valleys.

      Too long have I longed and looked into the distance. Too long hath solitude possessed me: thus have I unlearned to keep silence.

      Utterance have I become altogether, and the brawling of a brook from high rocks: downward into the valleys will I hurl my speech.

      And let the stream of my love sweep into unfrequented channels! How should a stream not finally find its way to the sea!

      Forsooth, there is a lake in me, sequestered and self-sufficing; but the stream of my love beareth this along with it, down – to the sea!

      New paths do I tread, a new speech cometh unto me; tired have I become – like all creators – of the old tongues. No longer will my spirit walk on worn-out soles.

      Too slowly runneth all speaking for me: – into thy chariot, O storm, do I leap! And even thee will I whip with my spite!

      Like a cry and an huzza will I traverse wide seas, till I find the Happy Isles where my friends sojourn; —

      And mine enemies amongst them! How I now love every one unto whom I may but speak! Even mine enemies pertain to my bliss.

      And when I want to mount my wildest horse, then doth my spear always help me up best: it is my foot’s ever ready servant: —

      The spear which I hurl at mine enemies! How grateful am I to mine enemies that I may at last hurl it!

      Too great hath been the tension of my cloud: ‘twixt laughters of lightnings will I cast hail-showers into the depths.

      Violently will my breast then heave; violently will it blow its storm over the mountains: thus cometh its assuagement.

      Verily, like a storm cometh my happiness, and my freedom! But mine enemies shall think that THE EVIL ONE roareth over their heads.

      Yea, ye also, my friends, will be alarmed by my wild wisdom; and perhaps ye will flee therefrom, along with mine enemies.

      Ah, that I knew how to lure you back with shepherds’ flutes! Ah, that my lioness wisdom would learn to roar softly! And much have we already learned with one another!

      My wild wisdom became pregnant on the lonesome mountains; on the rough stones did she bear the youngest of her young.

      Now runneth she foolishly in the arid wilderness, and seeketh and seeketh the soft sward – mine old, wild wisdom!

      On the soft sward of your hearts, my friends! – on your love, would she fain couch her dearest one! —

      Thus spake Zarathustra.

      XXIV. IN THE HAPPY ISLES

      The figs fall from the trees, they are good and sweet; and in falling the red skins of them break. A north wind am I to ripe figs.

      Thus,

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