134 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, II
What happened unto me ? How did I free myself from loathing ? How became mine eye younger ? How did I reach in flying the height where no longer the rabble sit at the well ?
Did my very loathing give me wings and powers divining wells ? Verily, I had to fly unto the very highest to rediscover the well of lust !
Oh, I found it, my brethren ! How on the very height the well of lust floweth for me ! And there is a life, in the drinking of which no rabble share !
Almost too violently for me thou flowest, well of lust ! And frequently thou emptiest the cup again by trying to fill it !
And yet I must learn to approach thee more modestly. Much too violently my heart floweth tow- ards thee
My heart on which my summer burneth, the short, hot, melancholy, all-too-blessed summer ! How doth my summer-heart long for thy coolness !
Past is the hesitating trouble of my spring ! Past is the wickedness of my flakes of snow in June ! Wholly I became summer and a summer-noon !
A summer on the very height with cold wells and blessed stillness ! Oh come, my friends, that the stillness may become still more blessed !
For this is our height and our home. Too highly and too steeply we here stay for all the impure and their thirst.