You shall love peace as a means to new wars- and the short peace more than the long.
I recommend to you not work, but battle. I recommend to you not peace, but victory. Let your work be a battle, let your peace be a victory!
One can only be silent and sit peacefully when one has arrow and bow; otherwise one chatters and quarrels. Let your peace be a victory!
You say it is the good cause which hallows even war? I say to you: it is the good war which hallows every cause.
War and courage have done more great things than charity. Not your sympathy, but your bravery has before now saved the unfortunate.
«What is good?» you ask. To be brave is good. Let the little girls say: «The good is that which is both pretty and touching.»
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They call you heartless: but your heart is true, and I love that you are ashamed to show it. You are ashamed of your flood, while others are ashamed of their ebb.
You are ugly? Well then, my brothers, wrap the sublime about you, the cloak of the ugly!
And when your soul becomes great, then it becomes mischievous, and in your sublimity there is mockery. I know you.
In mockery the mischievous man and the weakling meet. But they misunderstand each other. I know you.
You shall only have enemies you can hate, not enemies you despise. You must be proud of your enemy; then, the success of your enemy is also your success.
Disobedience- that is the nobility of slaves. Let your nobility be obedi-ence. Let your commanding itself be an obeying!
To the good warrior «thou shalt» sounds better than «I will.» And all that is dear to you, you shall first have it commanded of you.
Let your love of life be love of your highest hope; and let your highest hope be the highest thought of life!
Your highest thought, however, you shall receive as a command from me- and it is this: man is something that will be overcome.
So live your life of obedience and of war! What matters long life! What warrior wishes to be spared!
I do not spare you, I love you from my very heart, my brothers in war!-
Thus spoke Zarathustra.
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Chapter 11 The New Idol
SOMEWHERE there are still peoples and herds, but not with us, my brothers: here there are states.
A state? What is that? Well! open now your ears to me, for now I will speak to you about the death of peoples.
State is the name of the coldest of all cold monsters. Coldly it lies; and this lie slips from its mouth: «I, the state, am the people.»
It is a lie! It was creators who created peoples, and hung a faith and a love over them: thus they served life.
Destroyers are they who lay snares for the many, and call it state: they hang a sword and a hundred cravings over them.
Where there are still peoples, the state is not understood, and is hated as the evil eye, and as sin against laws and customs.
This sign I give to you: every people speaks its own language of good and evil, which its neighbor does not understand. It has created its own language of laws and customs.
But the state lies in all the tongues of good and evil; and whatever it says it lies; and whatever it has it has stolen.
Everything in it is false; it bites with stolen teeth, and bites often. It is false down to its bowels.
Confusion of tongues of good and evil; this sign I give you as the sign of the state. This sign points to the will to death! it points to the preach-ers of death!
All too many are born: for the superfluous the state was created!
See how it entices them to it, the all-too-many! How it swallows and chews and rechews them!
«On earth there is nothing greater than I: I am the governing hand of God.»- thus roars the monster. And not only the long-eared and short-sighted fall upon their knees!
Ah! even in your ears, you great souls, it whispers its gloomy lies! Ah! it finds out the rich hearts which willingly squander themselves!
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Yes, it finds you too, you conquerors of the old God! You became weary of conflict, and now your weariness serves the new idol!
It would set up heroes and honorable ones around it, the new idol! Gladly it basks in the sunshine of good consciences,- the cold monster!
It will give everything to you, if you worship it, the new idol: thus it buys the lustre of your virtue, and the glance of your proud eyes.
Through you it seeks to seduce the all-too-many! Yes, a hellish artifice has been created here, a death-horse jingling with the trappings of divine honors!
Yes, a dying for many has been created here, which glorifies itself as life: verily, a great service to all preachers of death!
The state, I call it, where all drink poison, the good and the bad: the state, where all lose themselves, the good and the bad: the state, where the slow suicide of all- is called «life.»
Behold the superfluous! They steal the works of the creators and the treasures of the wise. Education, they call their theft- and everything be-comes sickness and trouble to them!
Behold the superfluous! They are always sick; they vomit their bile and call it a newspaper. They devour each other and cannot even digest themselves.
Behold the superfluous! They acquire wealth and become the poorer for it. They seek power, and the lever of power, much money- these im-potent ones!
See them clamber, these nimble apes! They clamber over one another, and thus pull each other into the mud and the abyss.
They all strive for the throne: this is their madness- as if happiness sat on the throne! Often filth sits on the throne.- and often also the throne on filth.
Madmen they all seem to me, and clambering apes, and too eager. Foul smells their idol to me, the cold monster: foul they all smell to me, these idolaters.
My brothers, will you suffocate in the fumes of their maws and appet-ites! Better to break the windows and jump into the open air!
Escape from their foul stench! Escape from the idolatry of the superfluous!
Escape from their foul stench! Escape from the steam of these human sacrifices!
The earth is yet free for great souls. There are still many empty sites for the lonesome and the twosome, surrounded by the fragrance of tran-quil seas.
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A free life is yet possible for great souls. He who possesses little is that much less possessed: blessed be a little poverty!
There, where the state ends- there only begins the man who is not su-perfluous: there begins the song of the necessary, the single and irre-placeable melody.
There, where the state ends- look there, my brothers! Do you not see it, the rainbow and the bridges of the Superman?
Thus spoke Zarathustra.
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Chapter 12
The Flies in the Market-Place
FLEE, my friend, into your solitude! I see you deafened with the noise of the great men, and stung all over with the stings of the little ones.
Forest and rock know how to be silent with you. Be like the tree which you love, the broad-branched one- silently and attentively it overhangs the sea.
Where solitude ends, there begins the market-place; and where the market-place begins, there begins also the noise of the great actors, and the buzzing of the poison-flies.
In the world even the best things are worthless without those who make a side-show of them: these showmen, the people call great men.
Little do the people understand what is great- that is to say, the creat-or. But they have a taste for all showmen and actors of great things.
Around the creators of new values revolves the world:- invisibly it re-volves. But around the actors revolve the people and the glory: such is the course of things.
The actor has spirit, but little conscience of the spirit. He always be-lieves in that with which he most strongly inspires belief — in himself!
Tomorrow he has a new belief, and the day after, one still newer. Like the people, he has quick perceptions and fickle moods.
To defeat- that means for him: to prove. To drive to frenzy- that means for him: to convince. And blood is to him the best of all arguments.
A truth which glides only into refined ears, he calls falsehood and nothing. He believes only in gods that make a big noise in the world!
Full of clattering fools is the market-place,- and the people glory in their great men! These are for them the masters of the hour.
But the hour presses them; so they press you. And also from you they want Yes or No. Alas! would you set your chair between Pro and Con?
Do not be jealous of those unyielding and impatient men, you lover of truth! Never yet did truth cling to the arm of the unyielding.
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On account of those abrupt ones, return into your security: only in the market-place is one assailed by Yes? or No?
Slow is the experience of all deep fountains: long have they to wait un-til they know what has fallen into their depths.
Far away from the market-place and from fame happens all that
