wants pity. Perhaps he loves in you the unmoved eye, and the look of eternity.
Let your pity for your friend be hidden under a hard shell; you shall break a tooth on it. Thus it will have delicacy and sweetness.
Are you pure air and solitude and bread and medicine to your friend? Many a one cannot loosen his own chains, but can nevertheless free his friend.
Are you a slave? Then you cannot be a friend. Are you a tyrant? Then you cannot have friends.
Far too long have slave and tyrant been concealed in woman. On that account woman is not yet capable of friendship: she knows only love.
In woman's love there is injustice and blindness to all she does not love. And even in woman's conscious love, there is still always attack and lightning and night, along with the light.
As yet woman is not capable of friendship: women are still cats and birds. Or at best, cows.
As yet woman is not capable of friendship. But tell me, you men, who of you is capable of friendship?
Oh! your poverty, you men, and your sparingness of soul! As much as you give to your friend, I will give even to my enemy, and will not become poorer for it.
There is comradeship: may there be friendship!
Thus spoke Zarathustra.