But it is a sickly thing to them, and gladly would they get out of
their skin. Therefore hearken they to the preachers of death, and
themselves preach backworlds.

  Hearken rather, my brethren, to the voice of the healthy body; it is
a more upright and pure voice.

  More uprightly and purely speaketh the healthy body, perfect and
square-built; and it speaketh of the meaning of the earth.-

  Thus spake Zarathustra.

               4. The Despisers of the Body

  TO THE despisers of the body will I speak my word. I wish them
neither to learn afresh, nor teach anew, but only to bid farewell to
their own bodies,- and thus be dumb.

  "Body am I, and soul"- so saith the child. And why should one not
speak like children?

  But the awakened one, the knowing one, saith: "Body am I entirely,
and nothing more; and soul is only the name of something in the body."

  The body is a big sagacity, a plurality with one sense, a war and
a peace, a flock and a shepherd.

  An instrument of thy body is also thy little sagacity, my brother,
which thou callest "spirit"- a little instrument and plaything of
thy big sagacity.

  "Ego," sayest thou, and art proud of that word. But the greater
thing- in which thou art unwilling to believe- is thy body with its
big sagacity; it saith not "ego," but doeth it.

  What the sense feeleth, what the spirit discerneth, hath never its
end in itself. But sense and spirit would fain persuade thee that they
are the end of all things: so vain are they.

  Instruments and playthings are sense and spirit: behind them there
is still the Self. The Self seeketh with the eyes of the senses, it
hearkeneth also with the ears of the spirit.

  Ever hearkeneth the Self, and seeketh; it compareth, mastereth,
conquereth, and destroyeth. It ruleth, and is also the ego's ruler.

  Behind thy thoughts and feelings, my brother, there is a mighty
lord, an unknown sage- it is called Self; it dwelleth in thy body,
it is thy body.

  There is more sagacity in thy body than in thy best wisdom. And
who then knoweth why thy body requireth just thy best wisdom?

  Thy Self laugheth at thine ego, and its proud prancings. "What are
these prancings and flights of thought unto me?" it saith to itself.
"A by-way to my purpose. I am the leading-string of the ego, and the
prompter of its notions."

  The Self saith unto the ego: "Feel pain!" And thereupon it
suffereth, and thinketh how it may put an end thereto- and for that
very purpose it is meant to think.

  The Self saith unto the ego: "Feel pleasure!" Thereupon it
rejoiceth, and thinketh how it may ofttimes rejoice- and for that very
purpose it is meant to think.

  To the despisers of the body will I speak a word. That they
despise is caused by their esteem. What is it that created esteeming
and despising and worth and will?

  The creating Self created for itself esteeming and despising, it
created for itself joy and woe. The creating body created for itself
spirit, as a hand to its will.

  Even in your folly and despising ye each serve your Self, ye
despisers of the body. I tell you, your very Self wanteth to die,
and turneth away from life.

  No longer can your Self do that which it desireth most:- create
beyond itself. That is what it desireth most; that is all its fervour.

  But it is now too late to do so:- so your Self wisheth to succumb,
ye despisers of the body.

  To succumb- so wisheth your Self; and therefore have ye become
despisers of the body. For ye can no longer create beyond yourselves.

  And therefore are ye now angry with life and with the earth. And
unconscious envy is in the sidelong look of your contempt.

  I go not your way, ye despisers of the body! Ye are no bridges for
me to the Superman!-

  Thus spake Zarathustra.

                  5. Joys and Passions

  MY BROTHER, when thou hast a virtue, and it is thine own virtue,
thou hast it in common with no one.