Sleep tappeth on mine eye, and it turneth heavy. Sleep toucheth my mouth,
and it remaineth open.

Verily, on soft soles doth it come to me, the dearest of thieves, and
stealeth from me my thoughts: stupid do I then stand, like this academic
chair.

But not much longer do I then stand: I already lie.--

When Zarathustra heard the wise man thus speak, he laughed in his heart:
for thereby had a light dawned upon him. And thus spake he to his heart:

A fool seemeth this wise man with his forty thoughts: but I believe he
knoweth well how to sleep.

Happy even is he who liveth near this wise man! Such sleep is contagious--
even through a thick wall it is contagious.

A magic resideth even in his academic chair. And not in vain did the
youths sit before the preacher of virtue.

His wisdom is to keep awake in order to sleep well. And verily, if life
had no sense, and had I to choose nonsense, this would be the desirablest
nonsense for me also.

Now know I well what people sought formerly above all else when they sought
teachers of virtue. Good sleep they sought for themselves, and poppy-head
virtues to promote it!