arise: my sighing and questioning croaked and choked, and gnawed and nagged day and night:
-"Ah, man returns eternally! The small man returns eternally!"
Naked had I once seen both of them, the greatest man and the small man: all too like one another- all too human, even the greatest man!
All too small, even the greatest man!- that was my disgust at man! And the eternal return also of the small man!- that was my disgust at all existence!
Ah, Disgust! Disgust! Disgust!- - Thus spoke Zarathustra, and sighed and shuddered; for he remembered his sickness. Then did his animals prevent him from speaking further.
"Do not speak further, you convalescent!"- so answered his animals, "but go out where the world waits for you like a garden.
Go out to the roses, the bees, and the flocks of doves! Especially, however, to the singing-birds, to learn singing from them!
For singing is for the convalescent; the sound ones may talk. And when the sound also want songs, then want they other songs than the convalescent."
-"O you wags and barrel-organs, do be silent!" answered Zarathustra, and smiled at his animals. "How well you know what consolation I created for myself in seven days!
That I have to sing once more- that consolation did I create for myself, and this convalescence: would you also make another lyre-lay thereof?"
-"Do not talk further," answered his animals once more; "rather, you convalescent, prepare for yourself first a lyre, a new lyre!
