assurance and nothing
desire.

But brooding lay the sun of my love upon me, in his own juice stewed
Zarathustra,--then did shadows and doubts fly past me.

For frost and winter I now longed: "Oh, that frost and winter would
again make me crack and crunch!" sighed I:--then arose icy mist out of
me.

My past burst its tomb, many pains buried alive woke up--: fully slept
had they merely, concealed in corpse-clothes.

So called everything unto me in signs: "It is time!" But I--heard not,
until at last mine abyss moved, and my thought bit me.

Ah, abysmal thought, which art MY thought! When shall I find strength to
hear thee burrowing, and no longer tremble?

To my very throat throbbeth my heart when I hear thee burrowing! Thy
muteness even is like to strangle me, thou abysmal mute one!

As yet have I never ventured to call thee UP; it hath been enough that
I--have carried thee about with me! As yet have I not been strong
enough for my final lion-wantonness and playfulness.

Sufficiently formidable unto me hath thy weight ever been: but one day
shall I yet find the strength and the lion's voice which will call thee
up!

When I shall have surmounted myself therein, then will I surmount myself
also in that which is greater; and a VICTORY shall be the seal of my
perfection!--

Meanwhile do I sail along on uncertain seas; chance flattereth me,
smooth-tongued chance; forward and backward do I gaze--, still see I no
end.

As yet hath the hour of my final struggle not come to me--or doth it
come to me perhaps just now? Verily, with insidious beauty do sea and
life gaze upon me round about:

O afternoon of my life! O happiness before eventide! O haven upon high
seas! O peace in uncertainty! How I distrust all of you!

Verily, distrustful am I of your insidious beauty! Like the lover am I,
who distrusteth too sleek smiling.

As he pusheth the best-beloved before him--tender even in severity, the
jealous one--, so do I push this blissful hour before me.

Away with thee, thou blissful hour! With thee hath there come to me an
involuntary bliss! Ready for my severest pain do I here stand:--at the
wrong time hast thou come!

Away with thee, thou blissful hour! Rather harbour there--with my
children! Hasten! and bless them before eventide with MY happiness!

There, already approacheth eventide: the sun sinketh. Away--my
happiness!--

Thus spake Zarathustra. And he waited for his misfortune the whole
night; but he w