--- title: "Thus Spake Zarathustra" author: "Friedrich Nietzsche" translator: "Thomas Common" languages: [en] shelf: "Philosophy" section: 58 of 95 url: https://scriptura.si/works/nietzsche-zarathustra/58/ cite: "Friedrich Nietzsche, tr. Thomas Common, Thus Spake Zarathustra, section 58. Scriptura (scriptura.si), https://scriptura.si/works/nietzsche-zarathustra/58/" --- # Thus Spake Zarathustra *Friedrich Nietzsche, tr. Thomas Common* A prophet comes down from his mountain to teach the overman, in sermons and songs. ## 58. LIII. The Return Home Source: https://scriptura.si/works/nietzsche-zarathustra/58/ · cite a paragraph as https://scriptura.si/works/nietzsche-zarathustra/58/#p-N [¶0] O lonesomeness! My HOME, lonesomeness! Too long have I lived wildly in wild remoteness, to return to thee without tears! [¶1] Now threaten me with the finger as mothers threaten; now smile upon me as mothers smile; now say just: “Who was it that like a whirlwind once rushed away from me?— [¶2] —Who when departing called out: ‘Too long have I sat with lonesomeness; there have I unlearned silence!’ THAT hast thou learned now—surely? [¶3] O Zarathustra, everything do I know; and that thou wert MORE FORSAKEN amongst the many, thou unique one, than thou ever wert with me! [¶4] One thing is forsakenness, another matter is lonesomeness: THAT hast thou now learned! And that amongst men thou wilt ever be wild and strange: [¶5] —Wild and strange even when they love thee: for above all they want to be TREATED INDULGENTLY! [¶6] Here, however, art thou at home and house with thyself; here canst thou utter everything, and unbosom all motives; nothing is here ashamed of concealed, congealed feelings. [¶7] Here do all things come caressingly to thy talk and flatter thee: for they want to ride upon thy back. On every simile dost thou here ride to every truth. [¶8] Uprightly and openly mayest thou here talk to all things: and verily, it soundeth as praise in their ears, for one to talk to all things—directly! [¶9] Another matter, however, is forsakenness. For, dost thou remember, O Zarathustra? When thy bird screamed overhead, when thou stoodest in the forest, irresolute, ignorant where to go, beside a corpse:— [¶10] —When thou spakest: ‘Let mine animals lead me! More dangerous have I found it among men than among animals:’—THAT was forsakenness! [¶11] And dost thou remember, O Zarathustra? When thou sattest in thine isle, a well of wine giving and granting amongst empty buckets, bestowing and distributing amongst the thirsty: [¶12] —Until at last thou alone sattest thirsty amongst the drunken ones, and wailedst nightly: ‘Is taking not more blessed than giving? And stealing yet more blessed than taking?’—THAT was forsakenness! [¶13] And dost thou remember, O Zarathustra? When thy stillest hour came and drove thee forth from thyself, when with wicked whispering it said: ‘Speak and succumb!’— [¶14] —When it disgusted thee with all thy waiting and silence, and discouraged thy humble courage: THAT was forsakenness!”— [¶15] O lonesomeness! My home, lonesomeness! How blessedly and tenderly speaketh thy voice unto me! [¶16] We do not question each other, we do not complain to each other; we go together openly through open doors. [¶17] For all is open with thee and clear; and even the hours run here on lighter feet. For in the dark, time weigheth heavier upon one than in the light. [¶18] Here fly open unto me all being’s words and word-cabinets: here all being wanteth to become words, here all becoming wanteth to learn of me how to talk. [¶19] Down there, however—all talking is in vain! There, forgetting and passing-by are the best wisdom: THAT have I learned now! [¶20] He who would understand everything in man must handle everything. But for that I have too clean hands. [¶21] I do not like even to inhale their breath; alas! that I have lived so long among their noise and bad breaths! [¶22] O blessed stillness around me! O pure odours around me! How from a deep breast this stillness fetcheth pure breath! How it hearkeneth, this blessed stillness! [¶23] But down there—there speaketh everything, there is everything misheard. If one announce one’s wisdom with bells, the shopmen in the market-place will out-jingle it with pennies! [¶24] Everything among them talketh; no one knoweth any longer how to understand. Everything falleth into the water; nothing falleth any longer into deep wells. [¶25] Everything among them talketh, nothing succeedeth any longer and accomplisheth itself. Everything cackleth, but who will still sit quietly on the nest and hatch eggs? [¶26] Everything among them talketh, everything is out-talked. And that which yesterday was still too hard for time itself and its tooth, hangeth to-day, outchamped and outchewed, from the mouths of the men of to-day. [¶27] Everything among them talketh, everything is betrayed. And what was once called the secret and secrecy of profound souls, belongeth to-day to the street-trumpeters and other butterflies. [¶28] O human hubbub, thou wonderful thing! Thou noise in dark streets! Now art thou again behind me:—my greatest danger lieth behind me! [¶29] In indulging and pitying lay ever my greatest danger; and all human hubbub wisheth to be indulged and tolerated. [¶30] With suppressed truths, with fool’s hand and befooled heart, and rich in petty lies of pity:—thus have I ever lived among men. [¶31] Disguised did I sit amongst them, ready to misjudge MYSELF that I might endure THEM, and willingly saying to myself: “Thou fool, thou dost not know men!” [¶32] One unlearneth men when one liveth amongst them: there is too much foreground in all men—what can far-seeing, far-longing eyes do THERE! [¶33] And, fool that I was, when they misjudged me, I indulged them on that account more than myself, being habitually hard on myself, and often even taking revenge on myself for the indulgence. [¶34] Stung all over by poisonous flies, and hollowed like the stone by many drops of wickedness: thus did I sit among them, and still said to myself: “Innocent is everything petty of its pettiness!” [¶35] Especially did I find those who call themselves “the good,” the most poisonous flies; they sting in all innocence, they lie in all innocence; how COULD they—be just towards me! [¶36] He who liveth amongst the good—pity teacheth him to lie. Pity maketh stifling air for all free souls. For the stupidity of the good is unfathomable. [¶37] To conceal myself and my riches—THAT did I learn down there: for every one did I still find poor in spirit. It was the lie of my pity, that I knew in every one, [¶38] —That I saw and scented in every one, what was ENOUGH of spirit for him, and what was TOO MUCH! [¶39] Their stiff wise men: I call them wise, not stiff—thus did I learn to slur over words. [¶40] The grave-diggers dig for themselves diseases. Under old rubbish rest bad vapours. One should not stir up the marsh. One should live on mountains. [¶41] With blessed nostrils do I again breathe mountain-freedom. Freed at last is my nose from the smell of all human hubbub! [¶42] With sharp breezes tickled, as with sparkling wine, SNEEZETH my soul— sneezeth, and shouteth self-congratulatingly: “Health to thee!” [¶43] Thus spake Zarathustra.