THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, IV
What ? Must I be ever on the way ? Whirled about by every wind, unstable, driven away ? O earth, thou hast grown too round for me !
On every surface I have sat. Like the wearied dust, I have fallen asleep on looking-glasses and window-panes. Everything taketh from me, nothing giveth ; I become thin, I am almost like a shadow.
But after thee, O Zarathustra, I have flown and travelled longest. And though I hid myself from thee, yet have I been thy best shadow. Wherever thou hast sat, there sat I.
With thee I have haunted the remotest, coldest worlds, like a ghost that voluntarily walketh over wintry roofs and snow.
With thee have I striven for everything forbidden, the worst and remotest. And if anything in me is virtue, it is that I had no fear in the presence of any prohibition.
With thee have I broken whatever my heart re- vered ; all landmarks and pictures I threw down ; I pursued the most dangerous wishes. Verily, I have traversed every crime once.
With thee I unlearned the belief in words and values and great names. When the devil casteth his skin, doth not his name fall off as well ? For that is also skin. Perhaps the devil himself is skin.
' Nothing is true, everything is lawful,' thus I spake unto myself. Into the coldest waters I threw myself
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