Thus Spake Zarathustra [98]
wags," answered Zarathustra, and smiled, "how well did ye choose the simile! But ye know also that my happiness is heavy, and not like a fluid wave of water: it presseth me and will not leave me, and is like molten pitch."--
Then went his animals again thoughtfully around him, and placed themselves once more in front of him. "O Zarathustra," said they, "it is consequently FOR THAT REASON that thou thyself always becometh yellower and darker, although thy hair looketh white and flaxen? Lo, thou sittest in thy pitch!"--"What do ye say, mine animals?" said Zarathustra, laughing; "verily I reviled when I spake of pitch. As it happeneth with me, so is it with all fruits that turn ripe. It is the HONEY in my veins that maketh my blood thicker, and also my soul stiller."--"So will it be, O Zarathustra," answered his animals, and pressed up to him; "but wilt thou not to-day ascend a high mountain? The air is pure, and to-day one seeth more of the world than ever."--"Yea, mine animals," answered he, "ye counsel admirably and according to my heart: I will to-day ascend a high mountain! But see that honey is there ready to hand, yellow, white, good, ice-cool, golden- comb-honey. For know that when aloft I will make the honey-sacrifice."--
When Zarathustra, however, was aloft on the summit, he sent his animals home that had accompanied him, and found that he was now alone:--then he laughed from the bottom of his heart, looked around him, and spake thus:
That I spake of sacrifices and honey-sacrifices, it was merely a ruse in talking and verily, a useful folly! Here aloft can I now speak freer than in front of mountain-caves and anchorites' domestic animals.
What to sacrifice! I squander what is given me, a squanderer with a thousand hands: how could I call that--sacrificing?
And when I desired honey I only desired bait, and sweet mucus and mucilage, for which even the mouths of growling bears, and strange, sulky, evil birds, water:
--The best bait, as huntsmen and fishermen require it. For if the world be as a gloomy forest of animals, and a pleasure-ground for all wild huntsmen, it seemeth to me rather--and preferably--a fathomless, rich sea;
--A sea full of many-hued fishes and crabs, for which even the Gods might long, and might be tempted to become fishers in it, and casters of nets,-- so rich is the world in wonderful things, great and small!
Especially the human world, the human sea:--towards IT do I now throw out my golden angle-rod and say: Open up, thou human abyss!
Open up, and throw unto me thy fish and shining crabs! With my best bait shall I allure to myself to-day the strangest human fish!
--My happiness itself do I throw out into all places far and wide 'twixt orient, noontide, and occident, to see if many human fish will not learn to hug and tug at my happiness;--
Until, biting at my sharp hidden hooks, they have to come up unto MY height, the motleyest abyss-groundlings, to the wickedest of all fishers of men.
For THIS am I from the heart and from the beginning--drawing, hither- drawing, upward-drawing, upbringing; a drawer, a trainer, a training- master, who not in vain counselled himself once on a time: "Become what thou art!"
Thus may men now come UP to me; for as yet do I await the signs that it is time for my down-going; as yet do I not myself go down, as I must do, amongst men.
Therefore do I here wait, crafty and scornful upon high mountains, no impatient one, no patient one; rather one who hath even unlearnt patience, --because he no longer "suffereth."
For my fate giveth me time: it hath forgotten me perhaps? Or doth it sit behind a big stone and catch flies?
And verily, I am well-disposed to mine eternal fate, because it doth not hound and hurry me, but leaveth me time for merriment and mischief; so that I have to-day ascended this high mountain to catch fish.
Did ever any one catch fish upon high mountains? And though it be a folly what I here seek and do, it is better so than that down below I should become solemn with waiting, and green
Then went his animals again thoughtfully around him, and placed themselves once more in front of him. "O Zarathustra," said they, "it is consequently FOR THAT REASON that thou thyself always becometh yellower and darker, although thy hair looketh white and flaxen? Lo, thou sittest in thy pitch!"--"What do ye say, mine animals?" said Zarathustra, laughing; "verily I reviled when I spake of pitch. As it happeneth with me, so is it with all fruits that turn ripe. It is the HONEY in my veins that maketh my blood thicker, and also my soul stiller."--"So will it be, O Zarathustra," answered his animals, and pressed up to him; "but wilt thou not to-day ascend a high mountain? The air is pure, and to-day one seeth more of the world than ever."--"Yea, mine animals," answered he, "ye counsel admirably and according to my heart: I will to-day ascend a high mountain! But see that honey is there ready to hand, yellow, white, good, ice-cool, golden- comb-honey. For know that when aloft I will make the honey-sacrifice."--
When Zarathustra, however, was aloft on the summit, he sent his animals home that had accompanied him, and found that he was now alone:--then he laughed from the bottom of his heart, looked around him, and spake thus:
That I spake of sacrifices and honey-sacrifices, it was merely a ruse in talking and verily, a useful folly! Here aloft can I now speak freer than in front of mountain-caves and anchorites' domestic animals.
What to sacrifice! I squander what is given me, a squanderer with a thousand hands: how could I call that--sacrificing?
And when I desired honey I only desired bait, and sweet mucus and mucilage, for which even the mouths of growling bears, and strange, sulky, evil birds, water:
--The best bait, as huntsmen and fishermen require it. For if the world be as a gloomy forest of animals, and a pleasure-ground for all wild huntsmen, it seemeth to me rather--and preferably--a fathomless, rich sea;
--A sea full of many-hued fishes and crabs, for which even the Gods might long, and might be tempted to become fishers in it, and casters of nets,-- so rich is the world in wonderful things, great and small!
Especially the human world, the human sea:--towards IT do I now throw out my golden angle-rod and say: Open up, thou human abyss!
Open up, and throw unto me thy fish and shining crabs! With my best bait shall I allure to myself to-day the strangest human fish!
--My happiness itself do I throw out into all places far and wide 'twixt orient, noontide, and occident, to see if many human fish will not learn to hug and tug at my happiness;--
Until, biting at my sharp hidden hooks, they have to come up unto MY height, the motleyest abyss-groundlings, to the wickedest of all fishers of men.
For THIS am I from the heart and from the beginning--drawing, hither- drawing, upward-drawing, upbringing; a drawer, a trainer, a training- master, who not in vain counselled himself once on a time: "Become what thou art!"
Thus may men now come UP to me; for as yet do I await the signs that it is time for my down-going; as yet do I not myself go down, as I must do, amongst men.
Therefore do I here wait, crafty and scornful upon high mountains, no impatient one, no patient one; rather one who hath even unlearnt patience, --because he no longer "suffereth."
For my fate giveth me time: it hath forgotten me perhaps? Or doth it sit behind a big stone and catch flies?
And verily, I am well-disposed to mine eternal fate, because it doth not hound and hurry me, but leaveth me time for merriment and mischief; so that I have to-day ascended this high mountain to catch fish.
Did ever any one catch fish upon high mountains? And though it be a folly what I here seek and do, it is better so than that down below I should become solemn with waiting, and green