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LVI. OLD AND NEW TABLES. - Thus Spake Zarathustra| Set Display | Please Turn On Your Virtual Bookmarks | Help Support This Site | Table of Contents | Friedrich Nietzsche |
Page 151 of 254
LVI. OLD AND NEW TABLES. - Thus Spake Zarathustra
"Why so hard!"--said to the diamond one day the charcoal; "are we then not near relatives?"--
Why so soft? O my brethren; thus do _I_ ask you: are ye then not--my brethren?
Why so soft, so submissive and yielding? Why is there so much negation and abnegation in your hearts? Why is there so little fate in your looks?
And if ye will not be fates and inexorable ones, how can ye one day-- conquer with me?
And if your hardness will not glance and cut and chip to pieces, how can ye one day--create with me?
For the creators are hard. And blessedness must it seem to you to press your hand upon millenniums as upon wax,--
--Blessedness to write upon the will of millenniums as upon brass,--harder than brass, nobler than brass. Entirely hard is only the noblest.
This new table, O my brethren, put I up over you: BECOME HARD!--
30.
O thou, my Will! Thou change of every need, MY needfulness! Preserve me from all small victories!
Thou fatedness of my soul, which I call fate! Thou In-me! Over-me! Preserve and spare me for one great fate!
And thy last greatness, my Will, spare it for thy last--that thou mayest be inexorable IN thy victory! Ah, who hath not succumbed to his victory!
Ah, whose eye hath not bedimmed in this intoxicated twilight! Ah, whose foot hath not faltered and forgotten in victory--how to stand!--
--That I may one day be ready and ripe in the great noontide: ready and ripe like the glowing ore, the lightning-bearing cloud, and the swelling milk-udder:--
--Ready for myself and for my most hidden Will: a bow eager for its arrow, an arrow eager for its star:--
--A star, ready and ripe in its noontide, glowing, pierced, blessed, by annihilating sun-arrows:--
--A sun itself, and an inexorable sun-will, ready for annihilation in victory!
O Will, thou change of every need, MY needfulness! Spare me for one great victory!---
Thus spake Zarathustra. 
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