OF POETS
"Since I came to know the body better," said Zarathustra unto one of his disciples, "spirit hath been for me, as it were, spirit only, and all that is 'imperishable' only a simile."
"Thus I heard thee say already," answered the disciple. "And when thou saidst thus thou didst add : 'But the poets lie too much.' Why didst thou say that the poets lie too much ? "
"Why?" said Zarathustra. "Thou askest why? I am not of those who may be asked for their whys.
Forsooth, is mine experience of yesterday ? It is long since I found by experience the reasons for mine opinions.
Would I not require to be a barrel of memory, if I were to have my reasons with me?
Even to keep mine opinions is too much for me ; and many a bird flieth off.
And sometimes indeed I find a bird in my dove- cot, that hath come there but is strange unto me and trembleth when I lay my hand on it.
But what did Zarathustra once say unto thee ? That the poets lie too much? But Zarathustra is a poet also.
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