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.


V. JOYS AND PASSIONS.

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

To be sure, thou wouldst call it by name and caress it; thou wouldst pull
its ears and amuse thyself with it.

And lo! Then hast thou its name in common with the people, and hast become
one of the people and the herd with thy virtue!

Better for thee to say: "Ineffable is it, and nameless, that which is pain
and sweetness to my soul, and also the hunger of my bowels."