XVII. THE WAY OF THE CREATING ONE
by Friedrich Nietzsche
Wouldst thou go into isolation, my brother? Wouldst thou seek the
thyself? Tarry yet a little and hearken unto me.
He who seeketh may easily get lost himself. All isolation is
say the herd. And long didst thou belong to the herd.
The voice of the herd will still echo in thee. And when thou sayest,
have no longer a conscience in common with you, then will it be a plaint
and a pain.
Lo, that pain itself did the same conscience produce; and the last gleam
that conscience still gloweth on thine affliction.
But thou wouldst go the way of thine affliction, which is the way unto
thyself? Then show me thine authority and thy strength to do so!
Art thou a new strength and a new authority? A first motion? A self-
rolling wheel? Canst thou also compel stars to revolve around thee?
Alas! there is so much lusting for loftiness! There are so many
convulsions of the ambitions! Show me that thou art not a lusting and
Alas! there are so many great thoughts that do nothing more than the
bellows: they inflate, and make emptier than ever.
Free, dost thou call thyself? Thy ruling thought would I hear of, and
that thou hast escaped from a yoke.
Art thou one ENTITLED to escape from a yoke? Many a one hath
cast away his
final worth when he hath cast away his servitude.
Free from what? What doth that matter to Zarathustra! Clearly,
shall thine eye show unto me: free FOR WHAT?
Canst thou give unto thyself thy bad and thy good, and set up thy will as
law over thee? Canst thou be judge for thyself, and avenger of thy law?
Terrible is aloneness with the judge and avenger of one's own law. Thus
a star projected into desert space, and into the icy breath of aloneness.
To-day sufferest thou still from the multitude, thou individual; to-day
hast thou still thy courage unabated, and thy hopes.
But one day will the solitude weary thee; one day will thy pride yield,
thy courage quail. Thou wilt one day cry: I am alone!
One day wilt thou see no longer thy loftiness, and see too closely thy
lowliness; thy sublimity itself will frighten thee as a phantom. Thou wilt
one day cry: All is false!
There are feelings which seek to slay the lonesome one; if they do not
succeed, then must they themselves die! But art thou capable of it--to be
Hast thou ever known, my brother, the word disdain ? And the
thy justice in being just to those that disdain thee?
Thou forcest many to think differently about thee; that, charge they
heavily to thine account. Thou camest nigh unto them, and yet wentest
past: for that they never forgive thee.
Thou goest beyond them: but the higher thou risest, the smaller doth the
eye of envy see thee. Most of all, however, is the flying one hated.
How could ye be just unto me!--must thou say--I choose your
my allotted portion.
Injustice and filth cast they at the lonesome one: but, my brother, if
thou wouldst be a star, thou must shine for them none the less on that
And be on thy guard against the good and just! They would fain
those who devise their own virtue--they hate the lonesome ones.
Be on thy guard, also, against holy simplicity! All is unholy to it that
is not simple; fain, likewise, would it play with the fire--of the fagot
And be on thy guard, also, against the assaults of thy love! Too readily
doth the recluse reach his hand to any one who meeteth him.
To many a one mayest thou not give thy hand, but only thy paw; and I
thy paw also to have claws.
But the worst enemy thou canst meet, wilt thou thyself always be; thou
waylayest thyself in caverns and forests.
Thou lonesome one, thou goest the way to thyself! And past thyself and
seven devils leadeth thy way!
A heretic wilt thou be to thyself, and a wizard and a soothsayer,
fool, and a doubter, and a reprobate, and a villain.
Ready must thou be to burn thyself in thine own flame; how couldst thou
become new if thou have not first become ashes!
Thou lonesome one, thou goest the way of the creating one: a God
create for thyself out of thy seven devils!
Thou lonesome one, thou goest the way of the loving one: thou lovest
thyself, and on that account despisest thou thyself, as only the loving
To create, desireth the loving one, because he despiseth! What
of love who hath not been obliged to despise just what he loved!
With thy love, go into thine isolation, my brother, and with thy creating;
and late only will justice limp after thee.
With my tears, go into thine isolation, my brother. I love him who
to create beyond himself, and thus succumbeth.--
Thus spake Zarathustra.
the first thought of Zarathustra