Or why didst thou not till the
ground? Is the sea not full of green islands?

I despise thy contempt; and when thou warnedst me--why didst thou not
warn thyself?

Out of love alone shall my contempt and my warning bird take wing; but
not out of the swamp!--

They call thee mine ape, thou foaming fool: but I call thee my
grunting-pig,--by thy grunting, thou spoilest even my praise of folly.

What was it that first made thee grunt? Because no one sufficiently
FLATTERED thee:--therefore didst thou seat thyself beside this filth,
that thou mightest have cause for much grunting,--

--That thou mightest have cause for much VENGEANCE! For vengeance, thou
vain fool, is all thy foaming; I have divined thee well!

But thy fools'-word injureth ME, even when thou art right! And even if
Zarathustra's word WERE a hundred times justified, thou wouldst ever--DO
wrong with my word!

Thus spake Zarathustra. Then did he look on the great city and sighed,
and was long silent. At last he spake thus:

I loathe also this great city, and not only this fool. Here and there--
there is nothing to better, nothing to worsen.

Woe to this great city!--And I would that I already saw the pillar of
fire in which it will be consumed!

For such pillars of fire must precede the great noontide. But this hath
its time and its own fate.--

This precept, however, give I unto thee, in parting, thou fool: Where
one can no longer love, there should one--PASS BY!--

Thus spake Zarathustra, and passed by the fool and the great city.

LII. THE APOSTATES.

1.

Ah, lieth everything already withered and grey which but lately stood
green and many-hued on this meadow! And how much honey of hope did I
carry hence into my beehives!

Those young hearts have already all become old--and not old even! only
weary, ordinary, comfortable:--they declare it: "We have again become
pious."

Of late did I see them run forth at early morn with valorous steps: but
the feet of their knowledge became weary, and now do they malign even
their morning valour!

Verily, many of them once lifted their legs like the dancer; to them
winked the laughter of my wisdom:--then did they bethink themselves.
Just now have I seen them bent down--to creep to the cross.

Around light and liberty did they once flutter like gnats and young
poets. A little older, a little colder: and already are they mystifiers,
and mumblers and mollycoddles.

Did perhaps their hearts despond