heritor? A harvest? Or a ploughshare? A physician? Or a healed one?
Is he a poet? Or a genuine one? An emancipator? Or a subjugator? A good one? Or an evil one?
I walk amongst men as the fragments of the future: that future which I contemplate.
And it is all my poetisation and aspiration to compose and collect into unity what is fragment and riddle and fearful chance.
And how could I endure to be a man, if man were not also the composer, and riddle-reader, and redeemer of chance!
To redeem what is past, and to transform every "It was" into "Thus would I have it!"- that only do I call redemption!
Will- so is the emancipator and joy-bringer called: thus have I taught you, my friends! But now learn this likewise: the Will itself is still a prisoner.
Willing emancipates: but what is that called which still puts the emancipator in chains?
"It was": thus is the Will's teeth-gnashing and most lonesome tribulation called. Impotent towards what has been done- it is a malicious spectator of all that is past.
Not backward can the Will will; that it cannot break time and time's desire- that is the Will's most lonesome tribulation.
Willing emancipates: what does Willing itself create in order to get free from its tribulation and mock at its prison?
Ah, a fool becomes every prisoner! Foolishly delivers itself also the imprisoned Will.
That time does not run backward- that is its animosity: "That which was": so is the stone which it cannot roll called.
And thus does it roll stones out of animosity and ill-humor, and takes revenge on whatever does not, like it, feel rage and ill-humor.
