53. The Return Home
O SOLITUDE! My home, solitude! Too long have I lived wildly in wild remoteness, to return to you without tears!
Now threaten me with the finger as mothers threaten; now smile upon me as mothers smile; now say just: "Who was it that like a whirlwind once rushed away from me?-
-Who when departing called out: 'Too long have I sat with solitude; there have I unlearned silence!' That have you learned now- surely?
O Zarathustra, everything do I know; and that you were more forsaken amongst the many, you unique one, than you ever were with me!
One thing is forsakenness, another matter is solitude: that have you now learned! And that amongst men you will ever be wild and strange:
-Wild and strange even when they love you: for above all they want to be treated indulgently!
Here, however, are you at home and house with yourself; here can you utter everything, and unbosom all motives; nothing is here ashamed of concealed, congealed feelings.
Here do all things come caressingly to your talk and flatter you: for they want to ride upon your back. On every simile do you here ride to every truth.
Honestly and openly may you here talk to all things: and verily, it sounds as praise in their ears, for one to talk to all things- directly!
Another matter, however, is forsakenness. For, do you remember, O Zarathustra? When your bird screamed overhead,
