Mine Fyoob watched Jarhead this week. Mal picked it and slept through it - a solid combination. A popular American “war critical” biographical adaptation following Mister Standard Marine Man during the Gulf War. Also that one video essay guy did a video about it.
Desiring — that is now for me to have lost myself. / possess you, my children! In this possessing shall everything be assur- ance 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 alike 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 them 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! —
i like the scene where they watch apocalypse now. the whole things feels like a pretty self reflective critique of anti-war films etc… an anti-“anti-war film” film; they are often anti-war on the level of content, but not form, so it’s easy for them to be reappropriated. that being said, i think that still in contemporary moment, it’s interesting how there are still aspects of a more critical anti-war left which get reappropriated by fascist warmongers. “war isn’t about killing evil people it’s about stealing oil and having your girlfriend cheat on you” — i think that after a lot of media talking about this, fascists get most excited when trump explicitly talks about how we’re going to war in venezuela or iran to steal oil. i can imagine in 10 years a film is made where the marines watch scenes from this film and get excited to be cucked and protect america’s oil interests, and then the film just has them all making ai generated propoganda to post on tiktok all day long, or whatever the military is doing these days…..
Meanwhile do I sail along on uncertain seas; chance flat- tereth 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 be- fore 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 waited in vain. The night remained clear and calm, and happiness itself came nigher and nigher unto him. Towards morning, however, Zarathustra laughed to his heart, and said mockingly: "Happiness runneth after me. That is because I do not run after women. Happiness, however, is a woman.'
O HEAVEN above me, thou pure, thou deep heaven! Thou abyss of light! Gazing on thee, I tremble with divine desires.
-rachel
Up to thy height to toss myself — that is my depth! In thy purity to hide myself — that is mine innocence!
The God veileth his beauty: thus hidest thou thy stars. Thou speakest not: thus proclaimest thou thy wisdom unto me.
Mute o'er the raging sea hast thou risen for me to-day; thy love and thy modesty make a revelation unto my raging soul.
In that thou earnest unto me beautiful, veiled in thy beauty, in that thou spakest unto me mutely, obvious in thy wisdom :
Oh, how could I fail to divine all the modesty of thy soul! Before the sun didst thou come unto me — the lonesomest one.
We have been friends from the beginning: to us are grief, gruesomeness, and ground common; even the sun is common to us.
We do not speak to each other, because we know too much — : we keep silent to each other, we smile our knowl- edge to each other.
Art thou not the light of my fire? Hast thou not the sister- soul of mine insight?
Together did we learn everything; together did we learn to ascend beyond ourselves to ourselves, and to smile uncloud- edly: —
— Uncloudedly to smile down out of luminous eyes and out of miles of distance, when under us constraint and purpose and guilt stream like rain.
This was fun!
And wandered I alone, for what did my soul hunger by night and in labyrinthine paths? And climbed I mountains, whom did I ever seek, if not thee, upon mountains?
And all my wandering and mountain-climbing: a necessity was it merely, and a makeshift of the unhandy one: — to fly only, wanteth mine entire will, to fly into theel
And what have I hated more than passing clouds, and what- ever tainteth thee? And mine own hatred have I even hated, because it tainted thee!
The passing clouds I detest — those stealthy cats of prey: they take from thee and me what is common to us — the vast unbounded Yea- and Amen-saying.
These mediators and mixers we detest — the passing clouds : those half-and-half ones, that have neither learned to bless nor to curse from the heart.
Rather will I sit in a tub under a closed heaven, rather will I sit in the abyss without heaven, than see thee, thou luminous heaven, tainted with passing clouds!
And oft have I longed to pin them fast with the jagged gold-wires of lightning, that I might, like the thunder, beat the drum upon their kettle-bellies: —
— An angry drummer, because they rob me of thy Yea and Amen! — thou heaven above me, thou pure, thou luminous heaven! Thou abyss of light! — because they rob thee of my Yea and Amen.
For rather will I have noise and thunders and tempest-blasts, than this discreet, doubting cat-repose; and also amongst men do I hate most of all the soft-treaders, and half-and-half ones, and the doubting, hesitating, passing clouds.
And "he who cannot bless shall learn to curse!" -this clear teaching dropt unto me from the clear heaven; this star standeth in my heaven even in dark nights.
I loved the pacing, the music was nice, and the sound design and cinematography were dope too. The largely unsatisfying ending was a pleasant twist from what I usually expect in war movies (although to be fair i don’t really watch war movies so I don’t know what to expect in the first place). I liked how music was also used to portray the mental state of the soldiers (some more than others), and it helped me understand what I personally would have seen as a fucked up grooming tradition into a fucked up bonding ritual, at least in the perspectives of the soldiers. It was a good film for building character empathy despite everything that was and wasn’t happening. 9/12 (idk why all of my reviews are 9/12 sorry)
I, however, am a blesser and a Yea-sayer, if thou be but around me, thou pure, thou luminous heaven! Thou abyss of
light! — into all abysses do I then carry my beneficent Yea-saying.
A blesser have I become and a Yea-sayer: and therefore strove I long and was a striver, that I might one day get my hands free for blessing.
This, however, is my blessing: to stand above everything as its own heaven, its round roof, its azure bell and eternal security: and blessed is he who thus blesseth!
For all things are baptized at the font of eternity, and be- yond good and evil; good and evil themselves, however, are but fugitive shadows and damp afflictions and passing clouds.
Verily, it is a blessing and not a blasphemy when I teach that "above all things there standeth the heaven of chance, the heaven of innocence, the heaven of hazard, the heaven of wan- tonness."
"Of Hazard" — that is the oldest nobility in the world; that gave I back to all things; I emancipated them from bondage under purpose.
This freedom and celestial serenity did I put like an azure bell above all things, when I taught that over them and through them, no "eternal Will" — willeth.
This wantonness and folly did I put in place of that Will, when I taught that "In everything there is one thing impossible — rationality!"
A little reason, to be sure, a germ of wisdom scattered from star to star — this leaven is mixed in all things : for the sake of folly, wisdom is mixed in all things!
-recima from minfeub
A little wisdom is indeed possible; but this blessed security have I found in all things, that they prefer — to dance on the feet of chance.
O heaven above me! thou pure, thou lofty heaven! This is now thy purity unto me, that there is no eternal reason-spider and reason-cobweb: —
— That thou art to me a dancing-floor for divine chances, that thou art to me a table of the Gods, for divine dice and dice- players! —
But thou blushest? Have I spoken unspeakable things? Have I abused, when I meant to bless thee?
Or is it the shame of being two of us that maketh thee blush! — Dost thou bid me go and be silent, because now — day cometh?
The world is deep: — and deeper than e'er the day could read. Not everything may be uttered in presence of day. But day cometh: so let us part!
O heaven above me, thou modest one! thou glowing one! O thou, my happiness before sunrise! The day cometh: so let us part! —
WHEN Zarathustra was again on the continent, he did not go straightway to his mountains and his cave, but made many wanderings and questionings, and ascertained this and that; so that he said of himself jestingly: "Lo, a river that floweth back unto its source in many windings! ' ' For he wanted to learn what had taken place among men during the interval: whether they had become greater or smaller. And once, when he saw a row of new houses, he marvelled, and said :
'What do these houses me^? Verily, no great soul put them up as its simile!
Did perhaps a silly child take them out °f its toy-box? Would that another child put them again into the box!
dudes experience 6 months of military-grade murder edging and never fire a shot. the only people they see are ashen charred corpses and 8 guys with 5 camels. they see no enemies and still have a terrible time.
And these rooms and chambers — can men go out and in there? They seem to be made for silk dolls; or for dainty-eaters, who perhaps let others eat wifh them.'
And Zarathustra stood stif1 and meditated. At last he said sorrowfully: "There hath evPy*h™g become smaller!
Everywhere do I see lower doorways: he who is of my type can still go therethrough, but— he mu$t stoop!
Oh, when shall I arrive again at m7 home, where I shall no longer have to stoop — shall ri° longer have to stoop before the small ones!"— And Zarathustra sighed, and gazed into the distance. —
The same day, however, lie 3aye his discourse on the be- dwarfing virtue.
I pass through this people ^d keep mine eyes open: they do not forgive me for not ending their virtues.
They bite at me, because J sa7 unto them that for small people, small virtues are necessary— and because it is hard for me to understand that small people are necessary!
Here am I still like a cock in a strange farm-yard, at which even the hens peck: but on t^t account I am not unfriendly to the hens.
I am courteous towards triem> ^ towards all small annoy- ances; to be prickly toward,5 wnat is small, seemeth to me wisdom for hedgehogs.
They all speak of me when they sit around their fire in the evening — they speak of me, but no one thinketh — of me!
there is a constant reminder of gassing or shooting or bombing that never comes. the situation is Ramping and Changing and Progressing and Developing all out of frame. the danger is from my leaders’ punishments, my peers’ threats. all pain is self inflicted. all insanity is earned. oil horse.
This is the new stillness which I have experienced: their noise around me spreadeth a mantle over my thoughts.
They shout to one another: "What is this gloomy cloud about to do to us? Let us see that it doth not bring a plague upon us!"
And recently did a woman seize upon her child that was coming unto me: 'Take the children away," cried she, "such eyes scorch children's souls."
They cough when I speak: they think coughing an objec- tion to strong winds — they divine nothing of the boisterous- ness of my happiness!
"We have not yet time for Zarathustra" — so they object; but what matter about a time that "hath no time" for Zarathustra?
And if they should altogether praise me, how could I go to sleep on their praise? A girdle of spines is their praise unto me: it scratcheth me even when I take it off.
And this also did I learn among them: the praiser doeth as if he gave back; in truth, however, he wanteth more to be given him!
Ask my foot if their lauding and luring strains please it! Verily, to such measure and ticktack, it liketh neither to dance nor to stand still.
To small virtues would they fain lure and laud me; to the ticktack of small happiness would they fain persuade my foot.
I pass through this people and keep mine eyes open; they have become smaller, and ever become smaller: — the reason thereof is their doctrine of happiness and virtue.
reminders of vietnam (the Better War) in traumatised vets who cannot let go. this is not vietnam. these dudes are not those dudes. this one was not good, but it was not that bad. maybe that lets the film enjoy some earnest oorah musical scenes and choppers. maybe it does not.
For they are moderate also in virtue, — because they want comfort. With comfort, however, moderate virtue only is com- patible.
To be sure, they also learn in their way to stride on and stride forward: that, I call their hobbling. — Thereby they become a hindrance to all who are in haste.
And many of them go forward, and look backwards thereby, with stiffened necks : those do I like to run up against.
Foot and eye shall not lie, nor give the lie to each other. But there is much lying among small people.
Some of them will, but most of them are willed. Some of them are genuine, but most of them are bad actors.
There are actors without knowing it amongst them, and actors without intending it — , the genuine ones are always rare, especially the genuine actors.
Of man there is little here: therefore do their women mascu- linise themselves. For only he who is man enough, will — save the woman in woman.
And this hypocrisy found I worst amongst them, that even those who command feign the virtues of those who serve.
"I serve, thou servest, we serve" — so chanteth here even the hypocrisy of the rulers — and alas! if the first lord be only the :first servant!
Ah, even upon their hypocrisy did mine eyes' curiosity alight; and well did I divine all their fly-happiness, and their buzzing around sunny window-panes.
most people in this film suck and i dislike them. i did like the one guy who was kinda real but died anyway. a mantra for the forgetful: “do not fucking die”. repeat as required. you may not kill: they are already dead.
So much kindness, so much weakness do I see. So much jus- tice and pity, so much weakness.
Round, fair, and considerate are they to one another, as grains of sand are round, fair, and considerate to grains of sand.
Modestly to embrace a small happiness — that do they call "submission"! and at the same time they peer modestly after a new small happiness.
In their hearts they want simply one thing most of all : that
no one hurt them. Thus do they anticipate every one's wishes and do well unto every one.
That, however, is cowardice, though it be called "virtue." —
And when they chance to speak harshly, those small people, then do / hear therein only their hoarseness — every draught of air maketh them hoarse.
Shrewd indeed are they, their virtues have shrewd fingers. But they lack fists: their fingers do not know how to creep behind fists.
Virtue for them is what maketh modest and tame: there- with have they made the wolf a dog, and man himself man's best domestic animal.
"We set our chair in the midst" — so saith their smirking unto me — "and as far from dying gladiators as from satisfied swine."
apparently some people made really bad sequels to jarhead that remove all the warbad parts and they suck. like imagine jarhead but it just loved war and thought it was the bees knees. are you imagining it? i can’t see inside your head but i hope you’re imagining it. sucks right? right. yeah. i didn’t see any of them but i watched a guy on youtube talk about them which is basically the same thing in the opinion-based economy. this one’s alright though.
That, however, is — mediocrity, though it be called modera- tion.—
I pass through this people and let fall many words: but they know neither how to take nor how to retain them.
They wonder why I came not to revile venery and vice; and verily, I came not to warn against pickpockets either!
They wonder why I am not ready to abet and whet their wisdom: as if they had not yet enough of wiseacres, whose voices grate on mine ear like slate-pencils!
And when I call out: "Curse all the cowardly devils in you, that would fain whimper and fold the hands and adore" — then do they shout: "Zarathustra is godless."
And especially do their teachers* of submission shout this; — but precisely in their ears do I love to cry: 'Yea! I am Zara- thustra, the godless!"
Those teachers of submission! Wherever there is aught puny, or sickly, or scabby, there do they creep like lice; and only my disgust preventeth me from cracking them.
Well! This is my sermon for their ears: I am Zarathustra the godless, who saith: "Who is more godless than I, that I may enjoy his teaching?"
I am Zarathustra the godles's: where do I find mine equal? And all those are mine equals who give unto themselves their Will, and divest themselves of all submission.
I am Zarathustra the godless! I cook every chance in my pot. And only when it hath been quite cooked do I welcome it as my food.
rating: three fcking badss american eagles overlooking five burning iraqi oil wells
And verily, many a chance came imperiously unto me: but still more imperiously did my Will speak unto it, — then did it lie imploringly upon its knees —
— Imploring that it might find home and heart with me, and saying flatteringly: "See, O Zarathustra, how friend only cometh unto friend!" —
But why talk I, when no one hath mine ears! And so will I shout it out unto all the winds :
Ye ever become smaller, ye small people! Ye crumble away, ye comfortable ones! Ye will yet perish —
— By your many small virtues, by your many small omis- sions, and by your many small submissions!
Too tender, too yielding: so is your soil! But for a tree to become great, it seeketh to twine hard roots around hard rocks!
Also what ye omit weaveth at the web of all the human future; even your naught is a cobweb, and a spider that liveth on the blood of the future.
And when ye take, then is it like stealing, ye small virtuous ones; but even among knaves honour saith that "one shall only steal when one cannot rob."
"It giveth itself" — that is also a doctrine of submission. But I say unto you, ye comfortable ones, that /'/ taketh to itself, and will ever take more and more from you!
Ah, that ye would renounce all half- willing, and would de- cide for idleness as ye decide for action!
Ah, that ye understood my word: "Do ever what ye will — but first be such as can will.
Love ever your neighbour as yourselves — but first be such as love themselves —
— Such as love with great love, such as love with great con- tempt!" Thus speaketh Zarathustra the godless. —
But why talk I, when no one hath mine ears! It is still an hour too early for me here.
Mine own forerunner am I among this people, mine own cockcrow in dark lanes.
But their hour cometh! And there cometh also mine! Hourly do they become smaller, poorer, unfruitfuller, — poor herbs! poor earth!
And soon shall they stand before me like dry grass and prairie, and verily, weary of themselves — and panting for fire, more than for water!
O blessed hour of the lightning! O mystery before noontide! — Running fires will I one day make of them, and heralds with flaming tongues: —
— Herald shall they one day with flaming tongues: It cometh, it is nigh, the great noontide!
WINTER, a bad guest, sitteth with me at home; blue are my hands with his friendly hand-shaking.
-grombo
I honour him, that bad guest, but gladly leave him alone. Gladly do I run away from him; and when one runneth well, then one escapeth him!
With warm feet and warm thoughts do I run where the wind is calm — to the sunny corner of mine olive-mount.
There do I laugh at my stern guest, and am still fond of him; because he cleareth my house of flies, and quieteth many little noises.
For he sufTereth it not if a gnat wanteth to buzz, or even two of them; also the lanes maketh he lonesome, so that the moonlight is afraid there at night.
A hard guest is he, — but I honour him, and do not wor- ship, like the tenderlings, the pot-bellied fire-idol.
Better even a little teeth-chattering than idol-adoration! — so willeth my nature. And especially have I a grudge against all ardent, steaming, steamy fire-idols.
Him whom I love, I love better in winter than in summer; better do I now mock at mine enemies, and more heartily, when winter sitteth in my house.
Heartily, verily, even when I creep into bed — : there, still laugh eth and wantoneth my hidden happiness; even my decep- tive dream laugheth.
I, a — creeper? Never in my life did I creep before the power- ful; and if ever I lied, then did I lie out of love. Therefore am I glad even in my winter-bed.
A poor bed warmeth me more than a rich one, for I am jeal- ous of my poverty. And in winter she is most faithful unto me.
i dont think i have a good review or anything
With a wickedness do I begin every day: I mock at the winter with a cold bath: on that account grumbleth my stern house-mate.
Also do I like to tickle him with a wax-taper, that he may finally let the heavens emerge from ashy-grey twilight.
For especially wicked am I in the morning: at the early hour when the pail rattleth at the well, and horses neigh warmly in grey lanes: —
Impatiently do I then wait, that the clear sky may finally dawn for me, the snow-bearded winter-sky, the hoary one, the white-head, —
— The winter-sky, the silent winter-sky, which often stifleth even its sun!
Did I perhaps learn from it the long clear silence? Or did it learn it from me? Or hath each of us devised it himself?
Of all good things the origin is a thousandfold, — all good roguish things spring into existence for joy: how could they always do so — for once only!
A good roguish thing is also the long silence, and to look, like the winter-sky, out of a clear, round-eyed countenance: —
— Like it to stifle one's sun, and one's inflexible solar will: verily, this art and this winter-roguishness have I learned well!
My best-loved wickedness and art is it, that my silence hath learned not to betray itself by silence.
it isnt a movie that i think is supposed to feel good or anything
Clattering with diction and dice, I outwit the solemn assist- ants: all those stern watchers, shall my will and purpose elude.
That no one might see down into my depth and into mine ultimate will — for that purpose did I devise the long clear silence.
Many a shrewd one did I find : he veiled his countenance and made his water muddy, that no one might see therethrough and thereunder.
But precisely unto him came the shrewder distrusters and nut-crackers: precisely from him did they fish his best-con- cealed fish!
But the clear, the honest, the transparent — these are for me the wisest silent ones : in them, so profound is the depth that even the clearest water doth not — betray it. —
Thou snow-bearded, silent, winter-sky, thou round-eyed whitehead above me! Oh, thou heavenly simile of my soul and its wantonness!
And must I not conceal myself like one who hath swallowed gold — lest my soul should be ripped up?
Must I not wear stilts, that they may overlook my long legs — all those enviers and injurers around me?
Those dingy, fire-warmed, used-up, green-tinted, ill- natured souls — how could their envy endure my happiness!
Thus do I show them only the ice and winter of my peaks — and not that my mountain windeth all the solar girdles around it!
i really like the depiction of like, murderous bloodthirsty men who only have themselves to fight going insane
They hear only the whistling of my winter-storms: and know not that I also travel over warm seas, like longing, heavy, hot south-winds.
They commiserate also my accidents and chances: — but my word saith: "Suffer the chance to come unto me: innocent is it as a little child!"
How could they endure my happiness, if I did not put around it accidents, and winter-privations, and bear-skin caps, and enmantling snowflakes!
— If I did not myself commiserate their pity, the pity of those enviers and injurers!
— If I did not myself sigh before them, and chatter with cold, and patiently let myself be swathed in their pity!
This is the wise waggish-will and good- will of my soul, that it concealeth not its winters and glacial storms; it concealeth not its chilblains either.
To one man, lonesomeness is the flight of the sick one; to another, it is the flight from the sick ones.
Let them hear me chattering and sighing with winter-cold, all those poor squinting knaves around me! With such sighing and chattering do I flee from their heated rooms.
Let them sympathise with me and sigh with me on account of my chilblains: "At the ice of knowledge will he yet -freeze to death!" — so they mourn.
Meanwhile do I run with warm feet hither and thither on mine olive-mount: in the sunny corner of mine olive-mount do I sing, and mock at all pity. —
its very cynical and the depiction of masculine failure modes is something of a spectacle to me
THUS slowly wandering through many peoples and divers cities, did Zarathustra return by round-about roads to his mountains and his cave. And behold, thereby came he un- awares also to the gate of the great city. Here, however, a foaming fool, with extended hands, sprang forward to him and stood in his way. It was the same fool whom the people called "the ape of Zarathustra:" for he had learned from him some- thing of the expression and modulation of language, and per-
haps liked also to borrow from the store of his wisdom. And the fool talked thus to Zarathustra:
O Zarathustra, here is the great city: here hast thou nothing to seek and everything to lose.
Why wouldst thou wade through this mire? Have pity upon thy foot! Spit rather on the gate of the city, and — turn back!
Here is the hell for anchorites' thoughts: here are great thoughts seethed alive and boiled small.
Here do all great sentiments decay: here may only rattle- boned sensations rattle!
Srnellest thou not already the shambles and cookshops of the spirit? Steameth not this city with the fumes of slaughtered spirit?
Seest thou not the souls hanging like limp dirty rags? — And they make newspapers also out of these rags!
Hearest thou not how spirit hath here become a verbal game? Loathsome verbal swill doth it vomit forth! — And they make newspapers also out of this verbal swill.
They hound one another, and know not whither! They in- flame one another, and know not why! They tinkle with their pinchbeck, they jingle with their gold.
next stop ; come and see
They are cold, and seek warmth from distilled waters: they are inflamed, and seek coolness from frozen spirits; they are all sick and sore through public opinion.
All lusts and vices are here at home; but here there are also the virtuous; there is much appointable appointed virtue: —
Much appointable virtue with scribe-fingers, and hardy sitting-flesh and waiting-flesh, blessed with small breast-stars, and padded, haunchless daughters.
There is here also much piety, and much faithful spittle- licking and spittle-backing, before the God of Hosts.
"From on high," drippeth the star, and the gracious spittle; for the high, longeth every starless bosom.
The moon hath its court, and the court hath its moon- calves: unto all, however, that cometh from the court do the mendicant people pray, and all appointable mendicant virtues.
"I serve, thou servest, we serve" — so prayeth all appoint- able virtue to the prince: that the merited star may at last stick on the slender breast!
But the moon still revolveth around all that is earthly: so revolveth also the prince around what is earthliest of all — that, however, is the gold of the shopman.
The God of the Hosts of war is not the God of the golden bar; the prince proposeth, but the shopman — disposeth!
By all that is luminous and strong and good in thee, O Zara- thusfra! Spit on this city of shopmen and return back!
-mal
Here floweth all blood putridly and tepidly and frothily through all veins: spit on the great city, which is the great slum where all the scum frotheth together!
Spit on the city of compressed souls and slender breasts, of pointed eyes and sticky fingers —
— On the city of the obtrusive, the brazen-faced, the pen- demagogues and tongue-demagogues, the overheated ambi- tious:—
Where everything maimed, ill-famed, lustful, untrustful, over-mellow, sickly-yellow and seditious, festereth perni- ciously:—
Here, however, did Zarathustra interrupt the foaming fool, and shut his mouth. —
Stop this at once! called out Zarathustra, long have thy speech and thy species disgusted me!
Why didst thou live so long by the swamp, that thou thy- self hadst to become a frog and a toad?
Floweth there not a tainted, frothy, swamp-blood in thine own veins, when thou hast thus learned to croak and revile?
Why wentest thou not into the forest? 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 grunt- ing.—
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!—