-For a ruined stomach, is their spirit: it persuades to death! For verily, my brothers, the spirit is a stomach!
Life is a well of delight, but to him in whom the ruined stomach speaks, the father of affliction, all fountains are poisoned.
To discern: that is delight to the lion-willed! But he who has become weary, is himself merely "willed"; with him play all the waves.
And such is always the nature of weak men: they lose themselves on their way. And at last asks their weariness: "Why did we ever go on the way? All is indifferent!"
To them sounds it pleasant to have preached in their ears: "Nothing is worth while! You shall not will!" That, however, is a sermon for slavery.
O my brothers, a fresh blustering wind comes Zarathustra to all way-weary ones; many noses will he yet make sneeze!
Even through walls blows my free breath, and into prisons and imprisoned spirits!
Willing emancipates: for willing is creating: so do I teach. And only for creating shall you learn!
And also the learning shall you learn only from me, the learning well!- He who has ears let him hear!
There stands the boat- there goes it over, perhaps into vast nothingness- but who wills to enter into this "Perhaps"?
None of you want to enter into the death-boat! How should you then be world-weary ones!
World-weary ones! And have not even withdrawn from the