"Lo! "Lo! now hath the world become perfect!"—thus thinks every woman when she obeyeth with all her love.
Obey must the woman, and find a depth for her surface. Surface is woman's soul, a mobile, stormy film on shallow water.
Man's soul, however, is deep, its current gusheth in subterranean caverns: woman surmiseth its force, but comprehendeth it not.—
Then answered me the old woman: "Many fine things hath Zarathustra said, especially for those who are young enough for them.
Strange! Zarathustra knoweth little about woman, and yet he is right about them! Does this happen, because with woman nothing is impossible?
And now accept a little truth by way of thanks! I am old enough for it!
Swaddle it up and hold its mouth: otherwise it will scream too loudly, the little truth."
"Give me woman, your little truth!" I said. And thus spake the old woman:
"Thou goest to women? Do not forget thy whip!"—
Thus spoke Zarathustra.
19. The Bite of the Adder
One day had Zarathustra fallen asleep under a fig-tree, owing to the heat, with his arm over his face. And there came an adder and bit him in the neck, so that Zarathustra screamed with pain. When he had taken his arm from his face he looked
