Ecce Homo Quotes

I know my fate. One day my name will be associated with the memory of something tremendous — a crisis without equal on earth, the most profound collision of conscience, a decision that was conjured up against everything that had been believed, demanded, hallowed so far. I am no man, I am dynamite.

What destroys a man more quickly than to work, think and feel without inner necessity, without any deep personal desire, without pleasure - as a mere automaton of duty?

My formula for greatness in a human being is amor fati: that one wants nothing to be different, not forward, not backward, not in all eternity. Not merely bear what is necessary, still less conceal it—all idealism is mendaciousness in the face of what is necessary—but love it

But I need solitude--which is to say, recovery, return to myself, the breath of a free, light, playful air.

إن العالم ينفق كليّة طاقاته في مقولات الـ (نعم)و (لا) ضمن نقد ما فكر فيه غيره؛ أما هو فإنه لم يعد يفكر

I am no man, I am dynamite.

To see others suffer does one good, to make others suffer even more: this is a hard saying but an ancient, mighty, human, all-too-human principle [....] Without cruelty there is no festival.

How much truth does a spirit endure, how much truth does it dare?

Resentment, born of weakness, harms no one more than the weak person himself.

Ultimately no one can hear in things―books included―more than he already knows. If you have no access to something from experience, you will have no ear for it.

One has to know the size of one's stomach.

No other German writer of comparable stature has been a more extreme critic of German nationalism than Nietzsche.

وأنا لا أعرف قراءة مثيرة للوجع بالقدر الذي تثيره قراءة شكسبير: كم من الآلام ينبغي على المرء أن يكون قد تحمل كي ما يغدو في حاجة إلى أن يجعل نفسه سخيفاً إلى هذا الحد!-هل نفهم هملت؟ لا ليس الشك، بل اليقين هو الذي يقود إلى الجنون..

To get up in the morning, in the fullness of youth, and open a book--now that’s what I call vicious!

Water is sufficient...the spirit moves over water.

Every achievement, every step forward in knowledge, is the consequence of courage, of toughness towards oneself, of sincerity to oneself

I am a disciple of the philosopher Dionysus, and I would prefer to be even a satyr than a saint.

Saying yes to life, even in its strangest and hardest problems.

i have never pondered over questions that are not questions.

It is not doubt but certainty that drives you mad...

I attack only things that are triumphant — if necessary, I wait until they become triumphant.

Generally speaking, punishment makes men hard and cold; it concentrates; it sharpens the feeling of alienation; it strengthens the power of resistance

Every acquisition, every step forward in knowledge is the result of courage, of severity toward oneself, of cleanliness with respect to oneself.

Energy wasted on negative ends.

إذ الإنسان يفضل أن يريد اللاشيء على لأن لا يريد شيئاً

People have always wanted to 'improve' human beings; for the most part, this has been called morality.

How much blood and horror is at the bottom of all 'good things'!

عبارة "العقل الحر" لا يمكن أن تفهم هنا إلا بهذا المعنى: إنه عقل محرر قد استعاد تملكه بذاته

I would prefer to be a satyr rather than a saint.

Pain is not seen as an objection to life: 'If you have no happiness left to give me, well then! you still have your pain...

Every kind of contempt for sex, every impurification of it by means of the concept "impure", is the crime par excellence against life--is the real sin against the holy spirit of life

What good is all this free-thinking, modernity, and turncoat flexibility if at some gut level you are still a Christian, a Catholic, and even a priest!

As is well known, the priests are the most evil enemies—but why? Because they are the most impotent. It is because of their impotence that in them hatred grows to monstrous and uncanny proportions, to the most spiritual and poisonous kind of hatred. The truly great haters in world history have always been priests; likewise the most ingenious haters: other kinds of spirit hardly come into consideration when compared with the spirit of priestly vengefulness.

وكي ما أعتقد بأن الخمر يبعث الانشراح فلا بد لي أن أكون مسيحياً؛ أعني بذلك أن أكون مؤمناً، وهو أمر يعد بالنسبة لي أنا بالذات عبثاً

Every characteristic absence of spirituality, every piece of common vulgarity, is due to an inability to resist a stimulus - you have to react, you follow every impulse.

Read from a distant star, the majuscule script of our earthly existence would perhaps lead to the conclusion that the earth was the distinctively ascetic planet, a nook of disgruntled, arrogant creatures filled with a profound disgust with themselves, at the earth, at all life, who inflict as much pain on themselves as they possibly can out of pleasure in inflicting pain which is probably their only pleasure.

To become what one is, one must not have the faintest notion of what one is... The whole surface of consciousness - for consciousness -is- a surface - must be kept clear of all great imperatives. Beware even of every great word, every great pose! So many dangers that the instinct comes too soon to "understand itself" --. Meanwhile, the organizing idea that is destined to rule keeps growing deep down - it begins to command, slowly it leads us back from side roads and wrong roads; it prepares single qualities and fitnesses that will one day prove to be indispensable as a means toward a whole - one by one, it trains all subservient capacities before giving any hint of the dominant task, "goal," "aim," or "meaning.

إن المساواة مع العدو هى الشرط الأول لنزال شريف, وحيثما يوجد مجال للإحتقار لا يمكن للمرء أن يخوض حربا

إنسانيّتى هى تجاوز متواصل للذات, إلا إننى بحاجة للعزلة

What really arouses indignation against suffering is not suffering as such but the senselessness of suffering...

Pain does not count as an objection to life

I don't want to be mistaken for anyone―so I mustn't mistake myself.

There is only a perspective seeing, only a perspective "knowing"; and the more affects we allow to speak about one thing, the more eyes, different eyes, we can use to observe one thing, the more complete will our "concept" of this thing, our "objectivity," be.

Dante, I think, committed a crude blunder when, with a terror-inspiring ingenuity, he placed above the gateway of his hell the inscription, 'I too was created by eternal love'--at any rate, there would be more justification for placing above the gateway to the Christian Paradise...the inscription 'I too was created by eternal hate'...

من بر تقدير خود واقفم: روزى نام من قرين خاطره ى امرى عظيم خواهد شد، خاطره ى بحرانى كه زمين مانندش را به خود نديده، ژرف ترين تصادم وجدان، اراده اى كه ظاهر شد تا بر هر آن چه تاكنون به باور درآمده، مطلوب انگاشته شده، و تقديس گشته بشورد. من انسان نيستم، من ديناميتم!

Forgetfulness is not just a vis inertiae, as superficial people believe, but is rather an active ability to suppress, positive in the strongest sense of the word, to which we owe the fact that what we simply live through, experience, take in, no more enters our consciousness during digestion (one could call it spiritual ingestion) than does the thousand-fold process which takes place with our physical consumption of food, our so-called ingestion. To shut the doors and windows of consciousness for a while; not to be bothered by the noise and battle which our underworld of serviceable organs work with and against each other;a little peace, a little tabula rasa of consciousness to make room for something new, above all for the nobler functions and functionaries, for ruling, predicting, predetermining (our organism runs along oligarchic lines, you see) - that, as I said, is the benefit of active forgetfulness, like a doorkeeper or guardian of mental order, rest and etiquette: from which can immediately see how there could be no happiness, cheerfulness, hope, pride, immediacy, without forgetfulness.

...good men never tell the truth. The good taught you false shores and false securities: you were born and kept in the lies of the good. Everything has been distorted and twisted down to its very bottom through the good

إن إنسانيّتى لا تتمثل فى التعاطف مع الإنسان فى وجوده، بل فى أن أتحمل الشعور به إلى جانبى

ابتداءً من تلك اللحظة ستغدو كتاباتي كلها صنارات صيد - لعل لي خبرة في الصيد أكثر من أي كان؟.. وإذا ما لم يكن هنالك من صيد قد حصل، فذلك ليس ذنبي. السمك هو الذي لا يوجد..

We are unknown to ourselves, we men of knowledge--and with good reason. We have never sought ourselves--how could it happen that we should ever find ourselves?

My paradise is in the shadow of my sword.

فى حالة المرض يغدو الإنسان عاجزا عن التخلّص من أى شئ, عاجزا عن الحسم فى أى شئ, وعاجزا عن رد اى شئ, كل شئ يغدو جارحا؟

The Church today is more likely to alienate than to seduce...

A hearty meal is easier to digest than one that is too small.

Not every end is the goal. The end of a melody is not its goal; and yet: as long as the melody has not reached its end, it also hasn't reached its goal. A parable.

إنّ الفلسفةَ - كما كنتُ دومًا أفهمُها و أعيشُها - هي الحياةُ طوعًا في الجليد و فوق الجبال الشاهقة ؛ البحثُ عن كلِّ ما هو غريبٌ و إشكاليٌّ في الوجود ، و عن كلِّ ما ظلّ إلى حدّ الآن منبوذًا مِن قِبَل الأخلاق

To be incapable of taking one's enemies, one's accidents, even one's misdeeds seriously for very long—that is the sign of strong, full natures in whom there is an excess of the power to form, to mold, to recuperate and to forget (a good example of this in modem times is Mirabeau, who had no memory for insults and vile actions done him and was unable to forgive simply because he—forgot). Such a man shakes off with a single shrug many vermin that eat deep into others; here alone genuine 'love of one's enemies' is possible—supposing it to be possible at all on earth. How much reverence has a noble man for his enemies!—and such reverence is a bridge to love.—For he desires his enemy for himself, as his mark of distinction; he can endure no other enemy than one in whom there is nothing to despise and very much to honor! In contrast to this, picture 'the enemy' as the man of ressentiment conceives him—and here precisely is his deed, his creation: he has conceived 'the evil enemy,' 'the Evil One,' and this in fact is his basic concept, from which he then evolves, as an afterthought and pendant, a 'good one'—himself!

But grant me from time to time—if there are divine goddesses in the realm beyond good and evil—grant me the sight, but one glance of something perfect, wholly achieved, happy, mighty, triumphant, something still capable of arousing fear! Of a man who justifies man, of a complementary and redeeming lucky hit on the part of man for the sake of which one may still believe in man!

الاخلاق هى الحساسية المرضية للمنحط مع النية الخفية فى الانتقام من الحياة

إن الاخلاقيات - سيرك البشرية - قد زيفت كل شيء سيكولوجيًا من البداية حتى النهاية

I found life easy, easiest, when it demanded the most difficult things of me.

الرسالة الأكثر خشونة تظل أكثر فضلا وأكثر شرفا من الصمت

Like a last signpost to the other path, Napoleon appeared, the most isolated and late-born man there has even been, and in him the problem of the noble ideal as such made flesh--one might well ponder what kind of problem it is; Napoleon this synthesis of the inhuman and the superhuman

أنا نقيض لكل ما يحمل طابعا بطوليا

You revere me: but what if your reverence should some day collapse? Be careful lest a statue fall and kill you!

There are no egoistic or unegoistic actions: both concepts are psychological absurdities.

Another thing is war. I am naturally warlike. Attacking is one of my instincts. Being able to be an enemy, being an enemy — these require a strong nature, perhaps; in any case every strong nature presupposes them. It needs resistances, so it seeks resistance: aggressive pathos is just as integrally necessary to strength as the feeling of revenge and reaction is to weakness. Woman, forinstance, is vengeful: that is a condition of her weakness, as is her sensitivity to other people’s afflictions. — The strength of anattacker can in a way be gauged by the opposition he requires; allgrowth makes itself manifest by searching out a more powerful opponent — or problem: for a philosopher who is warlike challenges problems to duels, too. The task is not to master all resistances, but only those against which one has to pit one’s entire strength, suppleness, and mastery-at-arms — opponents who are equal...

What is it that I especially find utterly unendurable? That I cannot cope with, that makes me choke and faint? Bad air! Bad air! The approach of some ill-constituted thing; that I have to smell the entrails of some ill-constituted soul!

For this is how things are: the diminution and leveling of European man constitutes our greatest danger, for the sight of him makes us weary.—We can see nothing today that wants to grow greater, we suspect that things will continue to go down, down, to become thinner, more good-natured, more prudent, more comfortable, more mediocre, more indifferent, more Chinese, more Christian—there is no doubt that man is getting 'better' all the time.

لقد أخذت مصيرى بيدى, وعالجت نفسى بنفسى

جعلت من رغبتى فى أن أكون معافا ومن رغبتى فى الحياة فلسفتى الخاصة

إن "الطيز الخامل" كما قلت ذلك ذات مرة, لهو الخطيئة الحقيقية ضد الروح القدس.

تحطيم الأصنام هي حرفتي ، ذلك أنّه ما أن ابتُدِعَتْ أكذوبة عالَمِ المُثُل قد تمَّ تجريد الواقع مِن قيمتِهِ ، و مِن معناه ، و مِن حقيقتِهِ

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

Have you understood me? Dionysus versus Christ.

This workshop where ideals are manufactured--it seems to me it stinks of so many lies

I don't want to be a saint, and would rather be a buffoon...

Have I been understood?―Dionysus against the crucified one...

Solitude has seven skins; nothing gets through any more.

If you invest all your energy in economics, world commerce, parliamentarianism, military engagements, power and power politics, -if you take the quantum of intelligence, seriousness, will, and self-overcoming that you embody and expend it all in this one direction, there there won't be any left for the other direction. Culture and the state - let us be honest with ourselves - these are adversaries.

Îmi cunosc soarta. Cândva se va lega de numele meu amintirea a ceva monstruos – a unei crize cum nu a mai existat pe pământ, a celei mai profunde ciocniri de conştiinţe, a unei decizii conjurate împotriva a tot ceea ce se crezuse, se ceruse, se considerase sfânt până atunci. Eu nu sunt om, eu sunt dinamită.

Affirmation of life even in its strangest and sternest problems; the will to life rejoicing in its own inexhaustibility through the sacrifice of its highest types - that is what I call dionysian

الله وخلود الروح والخلاص والآخرة كلها مفاهيم لم أعرها إهتمامى ولا منحتها وقتى البتّة, ولا حتى كصبى, لعلنى لم أكن صبيانيا بما فيه الكفاية لمثل هذه الاشياء

إمتيازى هو الحساسية القصوى التى لدىّ تجاه كل أمراض الغرائز السليمة

ليس الشيطان إذا سوى عطالة الرب فى كل يوم سابع

The main concern of all great religions has been to fight a certain weariness and heaviness grown to epidemic proportions.

أنا ، مثلًا ، لستُ فزّاعةً على الإطلاق ، و لا أنا غولٌ أخلاقيّ ، بل إنّني من طبيعة البشر الذين ظلّ الناس إلى حدّ الآن يقدِّسونهم كأمثلةٍ للفضيلة

No quedar adherido a ninguna persona: aunque sea la más amada, - toda persona es una cárcel, y también un rincón.

But having quills is a waste, even a double luxury when one can choose not to have quills but open hands.

Equality before the enemy—first precondition for an honest duel.

الشفقة لا تمثّل فضيلة إلا بالنسبة للمنحطين

الشفقة لا تمثّل فضيلة، إلا بالنسبة للمنحطين

When I seek another word for ‘music’, I never find any other word than ‘Venice’.

Forgetfulness is a property of all action. The man of action is also without knowledge: he forgets most things in order to do one, he is unjust to what is behind him, and only recognizes one law - the law of that which is to be.

I fail to remember ever having made an effort — no trace of struggle is detectable in my life, I am the opposite of a heroic nature. To “want” something, to “strive” for something, to have an “end,” a “desire” in mind — I know none of this from my experience. Even at this moment I look out upon my future — a broad future! — as upon a smooth sea: no desire ripples upon it. Not in the least do I want anything to be different from what it is; I myself do not want to be any different ... But thus I have always lived.

While the noble man lives in trust and openness with himself (gennaios 'of noble descent' underlines the nuance 'upright' and probably also 'naïve'), the man of ressentiment is neither upright nor naive nor honest and straightforward with himself. His soul squints; his spirit loves hiding places, secret paths and back doors, everything covert entices him as his world, his security, his refreshment; he understands how to keep silent, how not to forget, how to wait, how to be provisionally self-deprecating and humble. A race of such men of ressentiment is bound to become eventually cleverer than any noble race; it will also honor cleverness to a far greater degree: namely, as a condition of existence of the first importance; while with noble men cleverness can easily acquire a subtle flavor of luxury and subtlety—for here it is far less essential than the perfect functioning of the regulating unconscious instincts or even than a certain imprudence, perhaps a bold recklessness whether in the face of danger or of the enemy, or that enthusiastic impulsiveness in anger, love, reverence, gratitude, and revenge by which noble souls have at all times recognized one another. Ressentiment itself, if it should appear in the noble man, consummates and exhausts itself in an immediate reaction, and therefore does not poison: on the other hand, it fails to appear at all on countless occasions on which it inevitably appears in the weak and impotent.

إنّ رجل العلم الذي لا يقوم على العموم سوي بـ"تقليب" الكتب - عمليّة ترتفع لدي الفيلولوجي من النوع المتوسّط الى عدد ال 200 يومياً- يفتقد مع الوقت القدرة على التفكير بصفة مستقلّة.وإذا لم يقلّب فإنّه لا يفكّر .إنّه يستجيب لمثير عندما يفكّر.

The formation of a herd is a significant victory and advance in the struggle against depression.

Not through enmity does enmity come to an end; enmity comes to an end through friendship.

What language will such a spirit speak when it talks to itself alone?

إنَّ المساواةَ مع العدوِّ هي الشرطُ الأول لنزالٍ شريف، وحيثما يوجدُ مجالٌ للاحتقار لا يمكن للمرءِ أن يخوضَ حرباً

To estimate what a type of man is worth, one must calculate the price paid for his preservation — one must know the conditions of his existence.

Dostoevsky, by the way, the only psychologist who had anything to teach me:

My paradise is "in the shadow of my sword." At bottom all I had done was to put one of Stendhal's maxims into practice: he advises one to make one's entrance into society by means of a duel.

When the oppressed, downtrodden, outraged exhort one another with the vengeful cunning of impotence: "let us be different from the evil, namely good! And he is good who does not outrage, who harms nobody, who does not attack, who does not requite, who leaves revenge to God, who keeps himself hidden as we do, who avoids evil and desires little from life, like us, the patient, humble, and just" -- this, listened to calmly and without previous bias, really amounts to no more than: "we weak ones are, after all, weak; it would be good if we did nothing for which we are not strong enough"; but this dry matter of fact, this prudence of the lowest order which even insects possess (popsing as dead, when in great danger, so as not to do "too much"), has, thanks to counterfeit and self-deception of impotence, clad itself in the ostentatious garb of the virtue of quiet, calm resignation, just as if the weakness of the weak -- that is to say, their essence, their effects, their sole ineluctable, irremovable reality - were a voluntary achievement, willed, chosen, a deed, a meritous act.

Was it not part of the secret black art of truly grand politics of revenge, of a farseeing, subterranean, slowly advancing, and premeditated revenge, that Israel must itself deny the real instrument of its revenge before all the world as a mortal enemy and nail it to the cross, so that 'all the world,' namely all the opponents of Israel, could unhesitatingly swallow just this bait? And could spiritual subtlety imagine any more dangerous bait than this? Anything to equal the enticing, intoxicating, overwhelming, and undermining power of that symbol of the 'holy cross,' that ghastly paradox of a 'God on the cross,' that mystery of an unimaginable ultimate cruelty and self-crucifixion of God for the salvation of man?

And how does one basically recognize good development? In that a well-developed man does our senses good: that he is carved from wood which is hard, delicate, and sweet-smelling, all at the same time.

The most spiritual people (assuming they are the bravest) experience by far the most painful tragedies: but this is precisely why they honour life, because it provides them with their greatest adversities.

The lie of the ideal has till now been the curse on reality; on its account humanity itself has become fake and false right down to its deepest instincts - to the point of worshipping values opposite to the only ones which would guarantee it a flourishing, a future, the exaled right to a future.

L'ateismo, per me, non è un risultato, e tanto meno un avvenimento - come tale non lo conosco: io lo intendo per istinto. Sono troppo curioso, troppo problematico, troppo tracotante, perché possa piacermi una risposta grossolana. Dio è una risposta grossolana, un'indelicatezza verso noi pensatori - in fondo è solo un grossolano divieto che ci viene fatto: non dovete pensare!

The conviction reigns that it is only through the sacrifices and accomplishments of the ancestors that the tribe exists--and that one has to pay them back with sacrifices and accomplishments; one thus recognizes a debt that constantly grows greater, since these forebears never cease, in their continued existence as powerful spirits, to accord the tribe new advantages and new strength.

Supposing that what is at any rate believed to be the 'truth' really is true, and the meaning of all culture is the reduction of the beast of prey 'man' to a tame and civilized animal, a domestic animal, then one would undoubtedly have to regard all those instincts of reaction and ressentiment through whose aid the noble races and their ideals were finally confounded and overthrown as the actual instruments of culture; which is not to say that the bearers of these instincts themselves represent culture. Rather is the reverse not merely probable—no! today it is palpable! These bearers of the oppressive instincts that thirst for reprisal, the descendants of every kind of European and non-European slavery, and especially of the entire pre-Aryan populace—they represent the regression of mankind! These 'instruments of culture' are a disgrace to man and rather an accusation and counterargument against 'culture' in general!

Nietzsche, like Goethe, held no high opinion of the German people,* and in other ways, too, the outpourings of this megalomaniacal genius differ from those of the chauvinistic German thinkers of the nineteenth century. Indeed, he regarded most German philosophers, including Fichte and Hegel, as “unconscious swindlers.” He poked fun at the “Tartuffery of old Kant.” The Germans, he wrote in Ecce Homo, “have no conception how vile they are,” and he came to the conclusion that “wheresoever Germany penetrated, she ruins culture.” He thought that Christians, as much as Jews, were responsible for the “slave morality” prevalent in the world;

Another form on sagacity and self-defence consists in reacting as seldom as possible and withdrawing from situations and relationships in which one would be condemned as it were to suspend ones 'freedom', ones initiative, and become a mere reagent.

On ne peut penser et écrire qu’assis6 (G. Flaubert). – I’ve caught you, nihilist! Sitting still is the very sin against the Holy Spirit. Only peripatetic thoughts have any value.

Tanrı baştan savma bir yanıttır, bir nezaketsizliktir biz düşünenlere karşı - hatta aslında baştan savma bir yasaktır bize konulmuş: Düşünmeyeceksiniz!

My wisdom consists in my having been many things and in many places in order to become one person—in order to be able to attain to one thing.

It also seems to me that the rudest word, the rudest letter, is more good-natured, more straightforward, than silence.

I am by far the most terrible human being that has existed so far; this does not preclude the possibility that I shall be the most beneficial.

The concept ‘beyond’, ‘true world’ invented in order to devalue the only world there is—in order to retain no goal, no reason, no task for our earthly reality!

Religions belong to the rabble; after coming into contact with religious people I always feel that I must wash my hands.

that which does not kill him makes him stronger.

I distrust all systematizers and avoid them. The will to a system is a lack of integrity.

increscunt animi, virescit volnere virtus.

To set to early in the morning, at the break of day, in all the fulness and dawn of one's strength, and to read a book—this I call positively vicious!

Every characteristic absence of spirituality, every piece of common vulgarity, is due to an inability to resist a stimulus — you have to react, you follow every impulse.

Ecce Homo

One repays a teacher badly if one remains only a pupil. ECCE HOMO, Foreword, Section 4

It is the noble races that have left behind them the concept 'barbarian' wherever they have gone; even their highest culture betrays a consciousness of it and even a pride in it (for example, when Pericles says to the Athenians in his famous funeral oration 'our boldness has gained access to every land and sea, everywhere raising imperishable monuments to its goodness and wickedness"). This 'boldness' of noble races, mad, absurd, and sudden in its expression, the incalculability, even incredibility of their undertakings—Pericles specially commends the rhathymia of the Athenians—their indifference to and contempt for security, body, life, comfort, their hair-raising cheerfulness and profound joy in all destruction, in all the voluptuousness of victory and cruelty—all this came together, in the minds of those who suffered from it, in the image of the 'barbarian,' the 'evil enemy,' perhaps as the 'Goths,' the 'Vandals.

Философията - така, както преживях и разбрах - е свободно избраният живот сред високите самотни върхове и вечни лед, в търсене на всичко досега чуждо и съмнително, анатемосвано от морала.

أن يكونَ الواحدُ قادراً على المعاداة، أن يكون عدواً يتطلَّب التمتع بطبعٍ قوي، وعلى أية حالٍ فإنَّ ذلك أمر مقترنٌ بكل طبيعة قوية؛ إذ هذه الأخيرة تحتاجُ إلى مقاومة، ولذلك تبحثُ لها عن مقاومة

Let us finally consider how naive it is altogether to say: "Man ought to be such and such!" Reality shows us an enchanting wealth of types, the abundance of a lavish play and change of forms — and some wretched loafer of a moralist comments: "No! Man ought to be different." He even knows what man should be like, this wretched bigot and prig: he paints himself on the wall and comments, "Ecce homo!" But even when the moralist addresses himself only to the single human being and says to him, "You ought to be such and such!" he does not cease to make himself ridiculous. The single human being is a piece of fatum from the front and from the rear, one law more, one necessity more for all that is yet to come and to be. To say to him, "Change yourself!" is to demand that everything be changed, even retroactively. And indeed there have been consistent moralists who wanted man to be different, that is, virtuous — they wanted him remade in their own image, as a prig: to that end, they negated the world! No small madness! No modest kind of immodesty! Morality, insofar as it condemns for its own sake, and not out of regard for the concerns, considerations, and contrivances of life, is a specific error with which one ought to have no pity — an idiosyncrasy of degenerates which has caused immeasurable harm. We others, we immoralists, have, conversely, made room in our hearts for every kind of understanding, comprehending, and approving. We do not easily negate; we make it a point of honor to be affirmers. More and more, our eyes have opened to that economy which needs and knows how to utilize everything that the holy witlessness of the priest, the diseased reason in the priest, rejects — that economy in the law of life which finds an advantage even in the disgusting species of the prigs, the priests, the virtuous. What advantage? But we ourselves, we immoralists, are the answer.

At the centre of all these noble races we cannot fail to see the blond beast of prey, the magnificent blond beast avidly prowling round for spoil and victory; this hidden centre needs release from time to time, the beast must out again, must return to the wild: - Roman, Arabian, Germanic, Japanese nobility, Homeric heroes, Scandinavian Vikings - in this requirement they are all alike. It was the noble races which left the concept of 'barbarian' in their traces wherever they went; even their highest culture betrays the fact that they were conscious of this and indeed proud of it.

Zarathustra, the first to recognize that the optimist is just as degenerate as the pessimist though perhaps more detrimental says: “Good men never speak the truth.  The Good preach of false shores and false security.  You were born and bred in the lies of the good.  Through the good everything has become false and twisted down to the very roots”.  Fortunately the world is not built solely to serve good natured herd animals their little happiness  ; to desire everybody to become a “good man”, “a herd animal”, blue-eyed, benevolent, “a beautiful soul”— or, as Herbert Spencer wished—altruistic, would mean robbing existence of its great character, to castrate mankind and reduce humanity to a sort of wretched Chinadom. And this some have tried to do!  It is precisely this that men have called morality. 

The fact that education, that development–and not ‘the Reich’–is itself a goal, the fact that you need educators–and not schoolteachers or university scholars–to reach this goal, people have forgotten this

The happiness of my existence, its unique character perhaps can be found in its fatefulness: to speak in a riddle, as my father I have already died, as my mother I still live and grow old. This double origin taken as it were from the highest and lowest rungs of the ladder of life at once decadent and beginning — this if anything explains that neutrality, that freedom from bias in regard to the general problem of existence which perhaps distinguishes me. My nose is more sensitive than any man that has yet lived as to signs of ascent or decline. In this domain I am a true master — I know both sides for I am both sides.

Great poets create only from their own reality―to the point where they cannot stand their work any more afterwards ... Whenever I glance through my Zarathustra, I walk around the room for half an hour, sobbing uncontrollably.

To 'want' something, to 'strive' after something to have an 'aim' or a 'wish' in my mind — I know none of this from experience. Even at this moment I look out upon my future — a distant future! as upon a calm sea: no sigh of longing makes a ripple on its surface. I have not the slightest wish that anything should be otherwise than it is: I do not want myself different than I am. But in this matter I have always been the same. I have never had a desire.

Cuvintele cele mai liniştite sunt cele care aduc furtună, gândurile care vin pe picioarele uşoare, de porumbel, cârmuiesc lumea. Omul cunoaşterii trebuie nu numai să-şi iubească duşmanii, el trebuie şi să poată să-şi urască prietenii.

The psychological problem apparent in the Zarathustra type is how someone who to an unprecedented degree says no and does no to everything everyone has said yes to so far, – how somebody like this can nevertheless be the opposite of a no-saying spirit

In reality, my title immoralist involves two denials. I first of all deny the type of man that has hitherto been regarded as the highest, the good, the benevolent, the charitable; and secondly deny that kind of morality which has come to be recognized and to dominate as morality

He reacts slowly to every kind of stimulus, with that slowness which a protracted caution and a willed pride have bred in him – he tests an approaching stimulus, he is far from going out to meet it. He believes in neither ‘misfortune’ nor in ‘guilt’: he knows how to forget – he is strong enough for everything to have to turn out for the best for him. Very well, I am the opposite of a décadent: for I have just described myself.

Zarathustra calls the good “the last men” and then ‘the beginning of the end”; and above all he considers them as the most harmful kind of men because they secure their existence at the cost of Truth and at the cost of the Future.  “The good—they cannot create; they are always the beginning of the end.  They crucify him who writes new values on new law tables; they sacrifice the future to themselves; they crucify the whole future of humanity!  The good—they are always the beginning of the end.  And whatever harm the slanderers of the world may do, the harm of the good is the most harmful of all”. 

The morality that would un-self man is the morality of decline par excellence—the fact, "I am declining," transposed into the imperative, "all of you ought to decline"—and not only into the imperative... This only morality that has been taught so far, that of un-selfing, reveals a will to the end; fundamentally, it negates life.

We don't know ourselves, we knowledgeable people—we are personally ignorant about ourselves. And there's good reason for that. We've never tried to find out who we are. How could it ever happen that one day we'd discover our own selves? With justice it's been said that "Where your treasure is, there shall your heart be also." Our treasure lies where the beehives of our knowledge stand. We are always busy with our knowledge, as if we were born winged creatures—collectors of intellectual honey. In our hearts we are basically concerned with only one thing, to "bring something home." As far as the rest of life is concerned, what people call "experience"—which of us is serious enough for that? Who has enough time? In these matters, I fear, we've been "missing the point." Our hearts have not even been engaged—nor, for that matter, have our ears! We've been much more like someone divinely distracted and self-absorbed into whose ear the clock has just pealed the twelve strokes of noon with all its force and who all at once wakes up and asks himself "What exactly did that clock strike?"—so we rub ourselves behind the ears afterwards and ask, totally surprised and embarrassed "What have we really just experienced? And more: "Who are we really?" Then, as I've mentioned, we count—after the fact—all the twelve trembling strokes of the clock of our experience, our lives, our being—alas! in the process we keep losing the count. So we remain necessarily strangers to ourselves, we do not understand ourselves, we have to keep ourselves confused. For us this law holds for all eternity: "Each man is furthest from himself." Where we ourselves are concerned, we are not "knowledgeable people.

Princes sit securely on their thrones only after they’ve been shot at.

Judgments, value judgments on life, for or against, can ultimately never be true: they have value only as symptoms, they can be taken seriously only as symptoms,

My destiny ordained that I should be the first decent human being and that I should feel myself opposed to the falsehood of millennia.

The struggle for equal rights is a symptom of disease: every doctor knows this.

Morality is the idiosyncrasy of decadents having the hidden desire to revenge themselves upon life – and being successful.

A incomparável arte de ler bem, essa condição necessária para a tradição da cultura

Wie viel Wahrheit erträgt, wie viel Wahrheit wagt ein Geist?

[The] self overcoming of justice: one knows the beautiful name it has given itself--mercy...

Tôi không chối bỏ những lý tưởng, tôi chỉ mang găng tay mỗi khi rờ mó chúng...

It is not doubt, it is certainty which makes mad... But to feel in this way one must be profound, abyss, philosopher... We all fear truth.

Every acquisition, every step forward in knowledge is the result of courage, of severity toward oneself, of cleanliness with respect to oneself.

¡Dios me ayude! Amén.

La carne sedentaria, ya lo he dicho en otra ocasión, es el autentico pecado contra el espíritu santo

The woman, the more of a woman she is, fights tooth and nail against rights in general: after all, the natural state of things, the eternal war between the sexes, gives her the highest rank by far. — Did anyone have ears for my definition of love? It is the only one worthy of a philosopher. — Love — its method is warfare, its foundation is the deadly hatred between the sexes. — Did anyone hear my answer to the question of how to cure – ‘redeem’ – a woman? Give her a baby. Women need children, the man is only ever the means: thus spoke Zarathustra.

For it should be noted: it was during the years of my lowest vitality that I ceased to be a pessimist; the instinct of self-restoration forbade me a philosophy of poverty and discouragement.

To be the equal of one's opponent—this is the first condition of an honourable duel. Where one despises, one cannot wage war. Where one commands, where one sees something as beneath oneself — one cannot wage war.

A man's imperative command is not only to say "no" in cases where "yes" would be a sign of "disinterestedness," but also to say "no" as seldom as possible. One must part with all that which compels one to repeat "no," with ever greater frequency. The rationale of this principle is that all discharges of defensive forces, however slight they may be, involve enormous and absolutely superfluous losses when they become regular and habitual. Our greatest expenditure of strength is made up of those small and most frequent discharges of it. The act of keeping things off, of holding them at a distance, amounts to a discharge of strength,—do not deceive yourselves on this point!—and an expenditure of energy directed at purely negative ends. Simply by being compelled to keep constantly on his guard, a man may grow so weak as to be unable any longer to defend himself.

today we read of Don Quixote with a bitter taste in the mouth, it is almost an ordeal, which would make us seem very strange and incomprehensible to the author and his contemporaries, – they read it with a clear conscience as the funniest of books, it made them nearly laugh themselves to death).To see suffering does you good, to make suffer, better still – that On the Genealogy of Morality 42 48 See below, Supplementary material, pp. 153–4. 49 See below, Supplementary material, pp. 137–9, pp. 140–1, pp. 143–4. 50 Don Quixote, Book II, chs 31–7. is a hard proposition, but an ancient, powerful, human-all-too-human proposition to which, by the way, even the apes might subscribe: as people say, in thinking up bizarre cruelties they anticipate and, as it were, act out a ‘demonstration’ of what man will do. No cruelty, no feast: that is what the oldest and longest period in human history teaches us – and punishment, too, has such very strong festive aspects! –

Has anyone at the end of the nineteenth century any distinct notion of what poets of a stronger age understood by the word inspiration?  If not, I will describe it.  If you had the slightest residue of superstition left in you it would hardly be possible to completely disregard the idea that one is the mere incarnation, a mouthpiece or a medium of an almighty power.  The idea of revelation in the sense of something which profoundly moves and provokes, becoming suddenly visible and audible with indescribable certainty and accuracy—is a simple description.  You hear—you do not seek; you take—and do not ask who gives: a thought suddenly flashes up like lightning, it comes as a necessity, without hesitation—I have never had any choice in the matter. 

Finally—this is what is most terrible of all—the concept of the good man signifies that one sides with all that is weak, sick, failure, suffering of itself—all that ought to perish: the principle of selection is crossed—an ideal is fabricated from the contradiction against the proud and well-turned-out human being who says Yes, who is sure of the future, who guarantees the future—and he is now called evil.— And all this was believed, as morality! — Ecrasez l'infame!—— [Voltaire's motto: "Crush the infamy!"]

The idea of revelation in the sense of something suddenly becoming visible and audible with unspeakable assurance…simply describes the facts of the case. You listen, you do not look for anything, you take, you do not ask who is there…I never had any choice.

Have I been understood? — I have not said one word here that I did not say five years ago through the mouth of Zarathustra. The uncovering of Christian morality is an event without parallel, a real catastrophe. He that is enlightened about that, is a force majeure, a destiny — he breaks the history of mankind in two. One lives before him, or one lives after him. The lightning bolt of truth struck precisely what was the highest so far: let whoever comprehends what has here been destroyed see whether anything is left in his hands, Everything that has hitherto been called 'truth' has been recognized as the most harmful, insidious, and subterranean form of lie; the holy pretext of 'improving' mankind, as the ruse for sucking the blood of life itself. Morality as vampirism.

A Dionysian life-task needs the hardness of the hammer, and one of its first essentials is without doubt the joy even of destruction. The command, "Harden yourselves!" and the deep conviction that all creators are hard, is the really distinctive sign of a Dionysian Nature.

La verdad del primer tratado es la psicología del cristianismo: el nacimiento del cristianismo, del espíritu del resentimiento, no del "espíritu", como de ordinario se cree, un anti-movimiento por su esencia, la gran rebelión contra el dominio de los valores aristocráticos.

«...tampouco me agradam esses novos especuladores em idealismo, os antissemitas, que hoje reviram os olhos de modo cristão-ariano-homem-de-bem, e, através do abuso exasperante do mais barato meio de agitação, a afetação moral, buscam incitar o gado de chifres que há no povo...»

O que é bom? - Tudo o que aumenta no homem o sentimento do poder, A vontade de poder, o próprio poder. O que é mau? - Tudo o que nasce da fraqueza. O que é a felicidade? - O sentimento de que o poder cresce, de que uma resistência foi vencida. Não o contentamento, mas mais poder. Não a paz finalmente, mas a guerra.

The fact that one becomes what one is presupposes that one has not the remotest idea of what one is. From this standpoint even the blunders of one’s life have their own meaning and value, the temporary deviations and aberrations, the moments of hesitation and of modesty, the earnestness wasted upon duties which lie outside the actual life-task. In these matters great wisdom, perhaps even the highest wisdom comes into play: in these circumstances in which nosce te ipsum would be the sure road to ruin, forgetting one’s self, misunderstanding one’s self, belittling one’s self, narrowing one’s self and making one’s self mediocre is reason itself.

Later on, towards the middle of my life, I grew more and more opposed to alcoholic drinks: I, an opponent of vegetarianism, who have experienced what vegetarianism is, — just as Wagner, who converted me back to meat, experienced it, — cannot with sufficient earnestness advise all more spiritual natures to abstain absolutely from alcohol. Water answers the purpose. . . . I have a predilection in favour of those places where in all directions one has opportunities of drinking from running brooks. In vino Veritas: it seems that here once more I am at variance with the rest of the world about the concept 'Truth' — with me spirit moves on the face of the waters. . . . Here are a few more indications as to my morality. A heavy meal is digested more easily than an inadequate one. The first principle of a good digestion is that the stomach should become active as a whole. A man ought, therefore, to know the size of his stomach. For the same reasons all those interminable meals, which I call interrupted sacrificial feasts, and which are to be had at any table d'hôte, are strongly to be deprecated. Nothing should be eaten between meals, coffee should be given up — coffee makes one gloomy. Tea is beneficial only in the morning. It should be taken in small quantities, but very strong. It may be very harmful, and indispose you for the whole day, if it be taken the least bit too weak. Everybody has his own standard in this matter, often between the narrowest and most delicate limits. In an enervating climate tea is not a good beverage with which to start the day: an hour before taking it an excellent thing is to drink a cup of thick cocoa, feed from oil. Remain seated as little as possible, put no trust in any thought that is not born in the open, to the accompaniment of free bodily motion — nor in one in which even the muscles do not celebrate a feast. All prejudices take their origin in the intestines. A sedentary life, as I have already said elsewhere, is the real sin against the Holy Spirit.

I understand myself as the first tragic philosopher, that is, the most extreme opposite and antipode of a pessimistic philosopher. Before me [ . . . ] tragic wisdom was lacking; I have looked in vain for signs of it even among the great Greeks in philosophy, those of the two centuries before Socrates. I retained some doubt in the case of Heraclitus, in whose proximity I feel warmer and better than anywhere else. The affirmation of passing away and destroying, which is the decisive feature of a Dionysian philosophy; saying yes to opposition and war; becoming, along with the repudiation of the very concept of being —all this is clearly more closely related to me than anything else thought to date.

Plenty of zeal and self-respect, plenty of competence in communication and transaction, in reciprocity of duties, plenty of diligence, plenty of stamina – and a hereditary sense of moderation that needs to be goaded on rather than curbed. I should add that obedience still exists here without it being humiliating . . . And people do not look down on their opponents

The "free" man, the possessor of a protracted and unbreakable will, also possesses his measure of value: looking out upon others from himself, he honors or he despises; and just as he is bound to honor his peers, the strong and reliable (those with the right to make promises)—that is, all those who promise like sovereigns, reluctantly, rarely, slowly, who are chary of trusting, whose trust is a mark of distinction, who give their word as something that can be relied on because they know themselves strong enough to maintain it in the face of accidents, even "in the face of fate"—he is bound to reserve a kick for the feeble windbags who promise without the right to do so, and a rod for the liar who breaks his word even at the moment he utters it.

Vorbind acum din punct de vedere teologic - şi spusele mele ar trebui ascultate, căci eu vorbesc rareori ca teolog -, Dumnezeu însuşi a fost cel care s-a aşternut la pământ sub chipul şarpelui la capătul zilei sale de creaţie sub pomul cunoaşterii; astfel s-a recreat, şi-a împrospătat el forţele pentru a fi Dumnezeu... Făcuse totul prea frumos... Diavolul este doar lenevia lui Dumnezeu în acea zi a şaptea...

Let us look forward a century and assume that I have succeeded in my attempt to assassinate two thousand years of antinature and desecration of humanity. The new party of life that takes on the greatest task of all, that of breeding humanity to higher levels (which includes the ruthless extermination of everything degenerate and parasitic), will make possible a surplus of life on earth that will necessarily regenerate the Dionysian state.

Nobody is free to live everywhere; and whoever has to solve great problems that challenge all his strength actually has a very restricted choice in this matter… a mistaken choice of place and climate can not only estrange a man from his task but can actually keep it from him: he never gets to see it. His animal vigor has never become great enough for him to attain that freedom which overflows into the most spiritual regions and allows one to recognize: this only I can do.

Has any one at the end of the nineteenth century any distinct notion of what poets of a stronger age understood by the word inspiration? If not, I will describe it. If one had the smallest vestige of superstition left in one, it would hardly be possible completely to set aside the idea that one is the mere incarnation, mouthpiece, or medium of an almighty power. The idea of revelation, in the sense that something which profoundly convulses and upsets one becomes suddenly visible and audible with indescribable certainty and accuracy―describes the simple fact. One hears―one does not seek; one takes―one does not ask who gives. A thought suddenly flashes up like lightening; it comes with necessity, without faltering. I have never had any choice in the matter. There is an ecstasy so great that the immense strain of it is sometimes relaxed by a flood of tears, during which one's steps now involuntarily rush and anon involuntarily lag. There is the feeling that one is utterly out of hand, with the very distinct consciousness of an endless number of fine thrills and titillations descending to one's very toes. There is a depth of happiness in which the most painful and gloomy parts do not act as antitheses to the rest, but are produced and required as necessary shades of color in such an overflow of light. There is an instinct of rhythmic relations which embraces a whole world of forms (length, the need of a wide-embracing rhythm, is almost the measure of the force of an inspiration, a sort of counterpart to its pressure and tension). Everything happens quite involuntary, as if in a tempestuous outburst of freedom, of absoluteness, of power and divinity. The involuntary nature of the figures and similes is the most remarkable thing; everything seems to present itself as the readiest, the truest, and simplest means of expression. It actually seems, to use one of Zarathustra's own phrases, as if all things came to one, and offered themselves as similes. . . .

Orthodoxy, however, entails a revolution in our metaphysical conception of the relationship between God and humanity, and therefore between the uncreated Unum and the maior dissimilitudo of the creature before the Unum. Properly understood, the apostolic confession of the unity of Christ does not stand midway between a “too unitive Christology” on the one hand, and a “too differentiating Christology” on the other; rather, it wholly recapitulates the nature of the difference of man before God.

Başka bir açıdan da, bir kez daha sadece babamım ve adeta onun çok erken bir ölümden sonra yaşamaya devam edişiyim. Hiçbir zaman kendime denk olanlar arasında yaşamamış ve "misilleme" kavramına da "eşit haklar" kavramı kadar uzak olan herkes gibi, bana karşı küçük ya da çok büyük bir budalalığın yapıldığı durumlarda, her türlü karşı önlemi, her türlü koruma önlemini yasaklıyorum kendime - haklı olarak her türlü savunmayı, her türlü "haklı çıkarmayı" da. Benim misilleme tarzım, aptallığın ardından olabildiğince hızla bir akıllılık göndermektir: belki böyle yetişilir ona.

Is this even possible today?- But some day, in a stronger age than this decaying, self-doubting present, he must yet come to us, the redeeming man of great love and contempt, the creative spirit whose compelling strength will not let him rest in any aloofness or any beyond, whose isolation is misunderstood by the people as if it were flight from reality-while it is only his absorption, immersion, penetration into reality, so that, when he one day emerges again into the light, he may bring home the redemption of this reality: its redemption from the curse that the hitherto reigning ideal has laid upon it.

Mankind can only now begin to hope again, now that I have lived. Thus I am necessarily a man of Destiny. For when Truth battles against the lies of millennia there will be shock waves, earthquakes, the transposition of hills and valleys such as the world has never yet imagined even in its dreams. The concept “politics” then becomes entirely absorbed into the realm of spiritual warfare. All the mighty worlds of the ancient order of society are blown into space—for they are all based on lies: there will be wars the like of which have never been seen on earth before. Only after me will there be grand politics on earth.

To desire everybody to become a "good man," "a gregarious animal," "a blue-eyed, benevolent, beautiful soul," or — as Herbert Spencer wished — a creature of altruism, would mean robbing existence of its greatest character, castrating man, and reducing humanity to a sort of wretched Chinadom. And this some have tried to do! It is precisely this that men called morality. In this sense Zarathustra calls "the good," now "the last men," and anon "the beginning of the end"; and above all, he considers them as the most detrimental kind of men, because they secure their existence at the cost of Truth and at the cost of the Future.

The concept "God" was invented as the opposite of the concept life — everything detrimental, poisonous, and slanderous, and all deadly hostility to life, wad bound together in one horrible unit in Him. The concepts "beyond" and "true world" were invented in order to depreciate the only world that exists — in order that no goal or aim, no sense or task, might be left to earthly reality. The concepts "soul," "spirit," and last of all the concept "immortal soul," were invented in order to throw contempt on the body, in order to make it sick and "holy," in order to cultivate an attitude of appalling levity towards all things in life which deserve to be treated seriously, i.e. the questions of nutrition and habitation, of intellectual diet, the treatment of the sick, cleanliness, and weather. Instead of health, we find the "salvation of the soul" — that is to say, a folie circulate fluctuating between convulsions and penitence and the hysteria of redemption. The concept "sin," together with the torture instrument appertaining to it, which is the concept "free will," was invented in order to confuse and muddle our instincts, and to render the mistrust of them man's second nature! In the concepts "disinterestedness" and "self-denial," the actual signs of decadence are to be found. The allurement of that which is detrimental, the inability to discover one's own advantage and self-destruction, are made into absolute qualities, into the "duty," the "holiness," and the "divinity" of man. Finally — to keep the worst to the last — by the notion of the good man, all that is favoured which is weak, ill, botched, and sick-in-itself, which ought to be wiped out. The law of selection is thwarted, an ideal is made out of opposition to the proud, well-constituted man, to him who says yea to life, to him who is certain of the future, and who guarantees the future — this man is henceforth called the evil one.

You will have guessed what has really happened here, beneath all this: that will to self-tormenting, that repressed cruelty of the animal-man made inward and scared back into himself, the creature imprisoned in the “state” so as to be tamed, who invented the bad conscience in order to hurt himself after the more natural vent for this desire to hurt had been blocked—this man of the bad conscience has seized upon the presupposition of religion so as to drive his self-torture to its most gruesome pitch of severity and rigor. Guilt before God: this thought becomes an instrument of torture to him. He apprehends in “God” the ultimate antithesis of his own ineluctable animal instincts; he reinterprets these animal instincts themselves as a form of guilt before God (as hostility, rebellion, insurrection against the “Lord,” the “father,” the primal ancestor and origin of the world); he stretches himself upon the contradiction “God” and “Devil” he ejects from himself all his denial of himself, of his nature, naturalness, and actuality, in the form of an affirmation, as something existent, corporeal, real, as God, as the holiness of God, as God the Judge, as God the Hangman, as the beyond, as eternity, as torment without end, as hell, as the immeasurability of punishment and guilt.

To suggest that the grief of Christ issues from his perfect wisdom and charity would confirm that true sorrow is human and therefore cannot correspond to despair, since the hopelessness of despair would yield nothing about which to sorrow. If life is meaningless, there is no reason to mourn. Truth is what makes grief authentic and real, and so it follows that Truth Incarnate, come down from heaven to our vale of tears, would grieve at the highest pitch. The “tragic experience of the most complete desolation”49 depends on “the knowledge and experience of the Father.”50 Or as Adrienne von Speyr puts it: “The Father is never more present than in this absence on the Cross.

This work stands entirely on its own. Let us leave the poets aside: absolutely nothing has ever been achieved, perhaps, from a comparable surfeit of strength. My concept of the 'Dionysian' became the highest deed here; measured against it, all the rest of human action appears poor and limited. The fact that a Goethe, a Shakespeare would not be able to breathe a moment in this immense passion and height, that Dante, compared with Zarathustra, is just one of the faithful and not one who first creates the truth — a world-governing spirit, a destiny — that the poets of the Veda are priests and not even worthy of unfastening a Zarathustra's shoe-latches, this is all the very least that can be said.

Nós, homens do conhecimento, não nos conhecemos; de nós mesmos somos desconhecidos - e não sem motivo. Nunca nos procuramos: como poderia acontecer que um dia nos encontrássemos? Com razão alguém disse:'onde estiver teu tesouro, estará também teu coração'. Nosso tesouro está onde estão as colmeias do nosso conhecimento. Estamos sempre a caminho delas, sendo por natureza criaturas aladas e coletoras do mel do espírito, tendo no coração apenas um propósito - levar algo 'para casa'. Quanto ao mais da vida, as chamadas 'vivências', qual de nós pode levá-las a sério? Ou ter tempo para elas? Nas experiências presentes, receio, estamos sempre 'ausentes': nelas não temos nosso coração - para elas não remos ouvidos. Antes, como alguém divinamente disperso e imerso em si, a quem os sinos acabam de estrondear no ouvido as doze batidas do meio-dia, e súbito acorda e se pergunta 'o que foi que soou?', também nós por vezes abrimos depois os ouvidos e perguntamos, surpresos e perplexos inteiramente, 'o que foi que vivemos?', e também 'quem somos realmente?', e em seguida contamos, depois, como disse, as doze vibrantes batidas da nossa vivência, da nossa vida, do nosso ser - ah! e contamos errado... Pois continuamos necessariamente estranhos a nós mesmos, não nos compreendemos, temos que nos mal-entender, a nós se aplicará para sempre a frase: 'cada qual é o mais distante de si mesmo' - para nós mesmos somos 'homens do desconhecimento'...

In all its essential points, this book [Beyond Good and Evil] is a criticism of modernity, embracing the modern sciences, arts, even politics, together with certain indications as to a type which would be the reverse of modern man, or as little like him as possible, a noble and yea-saying type. In this last respect the book is a school for gentlemen — the term gentleman being understood here in a much more spiritual and radical sense than it has implied hitherto. All those things of which the age is proud, — as, for instance, far-famed "objectivity," "sympathy with all that suffers," "the historical sense," with its subjection to foreign tastes, with its lying-in-the-dust before petits faits, and the rage for science, — are shown to be the contradiction of the type recommended, and are regarded as almost ill-bred.

The definition of morality; Morality is the idiosyncrasy of decadents, actuated by a desire to avenge themselves with success upon life. I attach great value to this definition. 8 [Pg 141] Have you understood me? I have not uttered a single word which I had not already said five years ago through my mouthpiece Zarathustra. The unmasking of Christian morality is an event which unequalled in history, it is a real catastrophe. The man who throws light upon it is a force majeure, a fatality; he breaks the history of man into two. Time is reckoned up before him and after him. The lightning flash of truth struck precisely that which theretofore had stood highest: he who understands what was destroyed by that flash should look to see whether he still holds anything in his hands. Everything which until then was called truth, has been revealed as the most detrimental, most spiteful, and most subterranean form of life; the holy pretext, which was the "improvement" of man, has been recognised as a ruse for draining life of its energy and of its blood. Morality conceived as Vampirism.... The man who unmasks morality has also unmasked the worthlessness of the values in which men either believe or have believed; he no longer sees anything to be revered in the most venerable man—even in the types of men that have been pronounced holy; all he can see in them is the most fatal kind of abortions, fatal, because they fascinate. The concept "God" was invented as the opposite of the concept life—everything detrimental, poisonous, and slanderous, and all deadly hostility to life, wad bound together in one horrible unit in Him. The concepts "beyond" and "true world" were invented in order to depreciate the only world that exists—in order that no goal or aim, no sense or task, might be left to earthly reality. The concepts "soul," "spirit," and last of all the concept "immortal soul," were invented in order to throw contempt on the body, in order to make it sick and "holy," in order to cultivate an attitude of appalling levity towards all things in life which deserve to be treated seriously, i.e. the questions of nutrition and habitation, of intellectual diet, the treatment of the sick, cleanliness, and weather. Instead of health, we find the "salvation of the soul"—that is to say, a folie circulate fluctuating between convulsions and penitence and the hysteria of redemption. The concept "sin," together with the torture instrument appertaining to it, which is the concept "free will," was invented in order to confuse and muddle our instincts, and to render the mistrust of them man's second nature! In the concepts "disinterestedness" and "self-denial," the actual signs of decadence are to be found. The allurement of that which is [Pg 142] [Pg 143] The Project Gutenberg eBook of Ecce Homo, by Friedrich Nietzsche. detrimental, the inability to discover one's own advantage and self-destruction, are made into absolute qualities, into the "duty," the "holiness," and the "divinity" of man. Finally—to keep the worst to the last—by the notion of the good man, all that is favoured which is weak, ill, botched, and sick-in-itself, which ought to be wiped out. The law of selection is thwarted, an ideal is made out of opposition to the proud, well-constituted man, to him who says yea to life, to him who is certain of the future, and who guarantees the future—this man is henceforth called the evil one. And all this was believed in as morality!

I am the harbinger of joy, the like of which has never existed before; I have discovered tasks of such lofty greatness that, until my time, no one had any idea of such things. Mankind can begin to have fresh hopes, only now that I have lived. Thus, I am necessarily a man of Fate. For when Truth enters the lists against the falsehood of ages, shocks are bound to ensue, and a spell of earthquakes, followed by the transposition of hills and valleys, such as the world has never yet imagined even in its dreams. The concept "politics" then becomes elevated entirely to the sphere of spiritual warfare. All the mighty realms of the ancient order of society are blown into space—for they are all based on falsehood: there will be wars, the like of which have never been seen on earth before. Only from my time and after me will politics on a large scale exist on earth.

The concept of "sin" invented along with the torture instrument that belongs with it, the concept of "free will," in order to confuse the instincts, to make mistrust of the instincts second nature. In the concept of the "selfless," the "self-denier," the distinctive sign of decadence, feeling attracted by what is harmful, being unable to find any longer what profits one, self-destruction is turned into the sign of value itself, into "duty," into "holiness," into what is "divine" in man. Finally—this is what is most terrible of all—the concept of the good man signifies that one sides with all that is weak, sick, failure, suffering of itself—all that ought to perish: the principle of selection is crossed—an ideal is fabricated from the contradiction against the proud and well-turned-out human being who says Yes, who is sure of the future, who guarantees the future—and he is now called evil.

I have the right to regard myself as the first tragic philosopher — that is to say, the most extreme antithesis and antipodes of a pessimistic philosopher. Before my time no such thing existed as this translation of the Dionysian phenomenon into philosophic emotion: tragic wisdom was lacking; in vain have I sought for signs of it even among the great Greeks in philosophy — those belonging to the two centuries before Socrates. I still remained a little doubtful about Heraclitus, in whose presence, alone, I felt warmer and more at ease than anywhere else. The yea-saying to the impermanence and annihilation of things, which is the decisive feature of a Dionysian philosophy; the yea-saying to contradiction and war, the postulation of Becoming, together with the radical rejection even of the concept Being — in all these things, at all events, I must recognise him who has come nearest to me in thought hither to. The doctrine of the "Eternal Recurrence" — that is to say, of the absolute and eternal repetition of all things in periodical cycles — this doctrine of Zarathustra's might, it is true, have been taught before. In any case, the Stoics, who derived nearly all their fundamental ideas from Heraclitus, show traces of it.

The question concerning the origin of moral valuations is therefore a matter of the highest importance to me because it determines the future of mankind. The demand made upon us to believe that everything is really in the best hands, that a certain book, the Bible, gives us the definite and comforting assurance that there is a Providence that wisely rules the fate of man — when translated back into reality amounts simply to this, namely, the will to stifle the truth which maintains the reverse of all this, which is that hitherto man has been in the worst possible hands, and that he has been governed by the physiologically botched, the men of cunning and burning revengefulness, and the so-called "saints" — those slanderers of the world and traducers of humanity. The definite proof of the fact that the priest (including the priest in disguise, the philosopher) has become master, not only within a certain limited religious community, but everywhere, and that the morality of decadence, the will to nonentity, has become morality per se, is to be found in this: that altruism is now an absolute value, and egoism is regarded with hostility everywhere. He who disagrees with me on this point, I regard as infected. But all the world disagrees with me.

Where attempts have not been made to reconcile the two moralities, they may be described as follows:— All is good in the noble morality which proceeds from strength, power, health, well-constitutedness, happiness, and awfulness; for, the motive force behind the people practising it is “the struggle for power.” The antithesis “good and bad” to this first class means the same as “noble” and “despicable.” “Bad” in the master-morality must be applied to the coward, to all acts that spring from weakness, to the man with “an eye to the main chance,” who would forsake everything in order to live. With the second, the slave-morality, the case is different. There, inasmuch as the community is an oppressed, suffering, unemancipated, and weary one, all that will be held to be good which alleviates the state of suffering. Pity, the obliging hand, the warm heart, patience, industry, and humility—these are unquestionably the qualities we shall here find flooded with the light of approval and admiration; because they are the most useful qualities —; they make life endurable, they are of assistance in the “struggle for existence” which is the motive force behind the people practising this morality. To this class, all that is awful is bad, in fact it is the evil par excellence. Strength, health, superabundance of animal spirits and power, are regarded with hate, suspicion, and fear by the subordinate class.

Quant à l’oeuvre, les problèmes qu’elle soulève sont plus difficiles encore. En apparence pourtant, quoi de plus simple ? Une somme de textes qui peuvent être dénotés par le signe d’un nom propre. Or cette dénotation (même si on laisse de côté les problèmes de l’attribution) n’est pas une fonction homogène : le nom d’un auteur dénote-t-il de la même façon un texte qu’il a lui-même publié sous son nom, un texte qu’il a présenté sous un pseudonyme, un autre qu’on aura retrouvé après sa mort à l’état d’ébauche, un autre encore qui n’est qu’un griffonnage, un carnet de notes, un « papier » ? La constitution d’une oeuvre complète ou d’un opus suppose un certain nombre de choix qu’il n’est pas facile de justifier ni même de formuler : suffit-il d’ajouter aux textes publiés par l’auteur ceux qu’il projetait de donner à l’impression, et qui ne sont restés inachevés quer par le fait de la mort ? Faut-il intégrer aussi tout ce qui est brouillon, fait de la mort ? Faut-il intégrer aussi tout ce qui est brouillon, premier dessein, corrections et ratures des livres ? Faut-il ajouter les esquisses abandonnées? Et quel status donner aux lettres, aux notes, aux conversations rapportées, aux propos transcrits par les auditeurs, bref à cet immense fourmillement de traces verbales qu’un individu laisse autour de lui au moment de mourir, et qui parlent dans un entrecroisement indéfini tant de langages différents ? En tout cas le nom « Mallarmé » ne se réfère pas de la même façon aux thèmes anglais, aux trauctions d’Edgar Poe, aux poèmes, ou aux réponses à des enquêtes ; de même, ce n’est pas le même rapport qui existe entre le nom de Nietzsche d’une part et d’autre par les autobiographies de jeunesse, les dissertations scolaires, les articles philologiques, Zarathoustra, Ecce Homo, les lettres, les dernières cartes postales signées par « Dionysos » ou « Kaiser Nietzsche », les innombrables carnets où s’enchevêtrent les notes de blanchisserie et les projets d’aphorismes. En fait, si on parle si volontiers et sans s’interroger davantage de l’« oeuvre » d’un auteur, c’est qu’on la suppose définie par une certaine fonction d’expression. On admet qu’il doit y avoir un niveau (aussi profond qu’il est nécessaire de l’imaginer) auquel l’oeuvre se révèle, en tous ses fragments, même les plus minuscules et les plus inessentiels, comme l’expression de la pensée, ou de l’expérience, ou de l’imagination, ou de l’inconscient de l’auteur, ou encore des déterminations historiques dans lesquelles il était pris. Mais on voit aussitôt qu’une pareille unité, loin d’être donné immédiatement, est constituée par une opération ; que cette opération est interprétative (puisqu’elle déchiffre, dans le texte, la transcription de quelque chose qu’il cache et qu’il manifeste à la fois); qu’enfin l’opération qui détermine l’opus, en son unité, et par conséquent l’oeuvre elle-même ne sera pas la même s’il s’agit de l’auteur du Théâtre et son double ou de l’auteur du Tractatus et donc, qu’ici et là ce n’est pas dans le même sens qu’on parlera d’une « oeuvre ». L’oeuvre ne peut être considérée ni comme unité immédiate, ni comme une unité certaine, ni comme une unité homogène.

The Night-Song, the immortal plaint of one who, thanks to his superabundance of light and power, thanks to the sun within him, is condemned never to love. It is night: now do all gushing springs raise their voices. And my soul too is a gushing spring. It is night: now only do all lovers burst into song. And my soul too is the song of a lover. Something unquenched and unquenchable is within me, that would raise its voice. A craving for love is within me, which itself speaketh the language of love. Light am I: would that I were night! But this is my loneliness, that I am begirt with light. Alas, why am I not dark and like unto the night! How joyfully would I then suck at the breasts of light! And even you would I bless, ye twinkling starlets and glow-worms on high! and be blessed in the gifts of your light. But in mine own light do I live, ever back into myself do I drink the flames I send forth. I know not the happiness of the hand stretched forth to grasp; and oft have I dreamt that stealing must be more blessed than taking. Wretched am I that my hand may never rest from giving: an envious fate is mine that I see expectant eyes and nights made bright with longing. Oh, the wretchedness of all them that give! Oh, the clouds that cover the face of my sun! That craving for desire! that burning hunger at the end of the feast! They take what I give them; but do I touch their soul? A gulf is there 'twixt giving and taking; and the smallest gulf is the last to be bridged. An appetite is born from out my beauty: would that I might do harm to them that I fill with light; would that I might rob them of the gifts I have given:—thus do I thirst for wickedness. To withdraw my hand when their hand is ready stretched forth like the waterfall that wavers, wavers even in its fall:—thus do I thirst for wickedness. For such vengeance doth my fulness yearn: to such tricks doth my loneliness give birth. My joy in giving died with the deed. By its very fulness did my virtue grow weary of itself. He who giveth risketh to lose his shame; he that is ever distributing groweth callous in hand and heart therefrom. Mine eyes no longer melt into tears at the sight of the suppliant's shame; my hand hath become too hard to feel the quivering of laden hands. Whither have ye fled, the tears of mine eyes and the bloom of my heart? Oh, the solitude of all givers! Oh, the silence of all beacons! Many are the suns that circle in barren space; to all that is dark do they speak with their light—to me alone are they silent. Alas, this is the hatred of light for that which shineth: pitiless it runneth its course. Unfair in its inmost heart to that which shineth; cold toward suns,—thus doth every sun go its way. Like a tempest do the Suns fly over their course: for such is their way. Their own unswerving will do they follow: that is their coldness. Alas, it is ye alone, ye creatures of gloom, ye spirits of the night, that take your warmth from that which shineth. Ye alone suck your milk and comfort from the udders of light. Alas, about me there is ice, my hand burneth itself against ice! Alas, within me is a thirst that thirsteth for your thirst! It is night: woe is me, that I must needs be light! And thirst after darkness! And loneliness! It is night: now doth my longing burst forth like a spring,—for speech do I long. It is night: now do all gushing springs raise their voices. And my soul too is a gushing spring. It is night: now only do all lovers burst into song. And my soul too is the song of a lover.

Have you understood me? That which defines me, that which makes me stand apart from the whole of the rest of humanity, is the fact that I unmasked Christian morality. For this reason I was in need of a word which conveyed the idea of a challenge to everybody. Not to have awakened to these discoveries before, struck me as being the sign of the greatest uncleanliness that mankind has on its conscience, as self-deception become instinctive, as the fundamental will to be blind to every phenomenon, all causality and all reality; in fact, as an almost criminal fraud in psychologicis. Blindness in regard to Christianity is the essence of criminality—for it is the crime against life. Ages and peoples, the first as well as the last, philosophers and old women, with the exception of five or six moments in history (and of myself, the seventh), are all alike in this. Hitherto the Christian has been the "moral being," a peerless oddity, and, as "a moral being," he was more absurd, more vain, more thoughtless, and a greater disadvantage to himself, than the greatest despiser of humanity could have deemed possible. Christian morality is the most malignant form of all false too the actual Circe of humanity: that which has corrupted mankind. It is not error as error which infuriates me at the sight of this spectacle; it is not the millenniums of absence of "goodwill," of discipline, of decency, and of bravery in spiritual things, which betrays itself in the triumph of Christianity; it is rather the absence of nature, it is the perfectly ghastly fact that anti-nature itself received the highest honours as morality and as law, and remained suspended over man as the Categorical Imperative. Fancy blundering in this way, not as an individual, not as a people, but as a whole species! as humanity! To teach the contempt of all the principal instincts of life; to posit falsely the existence of a "soul," of a "spirit," in order to be able to defy the body; to spread the feeling that there is something impure in the very first prerequisite of life—in sex; to seek the principle of evil in the profound need of growth and expansion—that is to say, in severe self-love (the term itself is slanderous); and conversely to see a higher moral value—but what am I talking about?—I mean the moral value per se, in the typical signs of decline, in the antagonism of the instincts, in "selflessness," in the loss of ballast, in "the suppression of the personal element," and in "love of one's neighbour" (neighbouritis!). What! is humanity itself in a state of degeneration? Has it always been in this state? One thing is certain, that ye are taught only the values of decadence as the highest values. The morality of self-renunciation is essentially the morality of degeneration; the fact, "I am going to the dogs," is translated into the imperative," Ye shall all go to the dogs"—and not only into the imperative. This morality of self-renunciation, which is the only kind of morality that has been taught hitherto, betrays the will to nonentity—it denies life to the very roots. There still remains the possibility that it is not mankind that is in a state of degeneration, but only that parasitical kind of man—the priest, who, by means of morality and lies, has climbed up to his position of determinator of values, who divined in Christian morality his road to power. And, to tell the truth, this is my opinion. The teachers and I leaders of mankind—including the theologians—have been, every one of them, decadents: hence their) transvaluation of all values into a hostility towards; life; hence morality. The definition of morality; Morality is the idiosyncrasy of decadents, actuated by a desire to avenge themselves with success upon life. I attach great value to this definition.