Friedrich Nietzsche - Preface\Maxims and Arrows lyrics

PREFACE Maintaining cheerfulness in the midst of a gloomy task, fraught with immeasurable responsibility, is no small feat; and yet what is needed more than cheerfulness? Nothing succeeds if prankishness has no part in it. Excess strength alone is the proof of strength. A revaluation of all values: this question mark, so black, so huge that it casts a shadow over the man who puts it down — such a destiny of a task compels one to run into the sunlight at every opportunity to shake off a heavy, all-too-heavy seriousness. Every means is proper to do this; every "case" is a case of luck. Especially, war. War has always been the great wisdom of all spirits who have become too introspective, too profound; even in a wound there is the power to heal. A maxim, the origin of which I withhold from scholarly curiosity, has long been my motto: Incresc*nt animi, virescit volnere virtus. ["The spirits increase, vigor grows through a wound."] Another mode of convalescence (in certain situations even more to my liking) is sounding out idols. There are more idols than realities in the world: that is my "evil eye" upon this world; that is also my "evil ear." Finally to pose questions with a hammer, and sometimes to hear as a reply that famous hollow sound that can only come from bloated entrails — what a delight for one who has ears even behind his ears, for me, an old psychologist and pied piper before whom just that which would remain silent must finally speak out. This essay — the title betrays it — is above all a recreation, a spot of sunshine, a leap sideways into the idleness of a psychologist. Perhaps a new war, too? And are new idols sounded out? This little essay is a great declaration of war; and regarding the sounding out of idols, this time they are not just idols of the age, but eternal idols, which are here touched with a hammer as with a tuning fork: there are no idols that are older, more a**ured, more puffed-up — and none more hollow. That does not prevent them from being those in which people have the most faith; nor does one ever say "idol," especially not in the most distinguished instance. Turin, September 30, 1888, on the day when the first book of the Revaluation of All Values was completed. FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE MAXIMS AND ARROWS Idleness is the beginning of all psychology. What? Is psychology a vice? Even the most courageous among us only rarely has the courage to face what he already knows. To live alone one must be a beast or a god, says Aristotle. Leaving out the third case: one must be both — a philosopher. "All truth is simple." Is that not a double lie? I want, once and for all, not to know many things. Wisdom requires moderation in knowledge as in other things. In our own wild nature we find the best recreation from our un-nature, from our spirituality. How? Man is only a mistake of God? Or God merely a mistake of man? Out of life's school of war: What does not k** me makes me stronger. Help yourself, then everyone will help you. Principle of brotherly love. Not to perpetrate cowardice against one's own acts! Not to leave them in the lurch afterward! The bite of conscience is indecent. Can an a** be tragic? To perish under a burden one can neither bear nor throw off? The case of the philosopher. If we have our own why in life, we shall get along with almost any how. Man does not strive for pleasure; only the Englishman does. Man has created woman — out of what? Out of a rib of his god — of his "ideal." What? You search? You would multiply yourself by ten, by a hundred? You seek followers? Seek zeros! Posthumous men — I, for example — are understood worse than timely ones, but heard better. More precisely: we are never understood — hence our authority. Among women: "Truth? Oh, you don't know truth! Is it not an attempt to k** our modesty?" That is the kind of artist I love, modest in his needs: he really wants only two things, his bread and his art — panem et Circen ["bread and Circe"]. Whoever does not know how to lay his will into things, at least lays some meaning into them: that means, he has the faith that they already obey a will. (Principle of "faith".) What? You chose virtue and took pride in your virtue, and yet you leer enviously at the advantages of those without scruples? But virtue involves renouncing "advantages." (Inscription for an anti-Semite's door.) The perfect woman indulges in literature just as she indulges in a small sin: as an experiment, in pa**ing, looking around to see if anybody notices it — and to make sure that somebody does. To venture into many situations where one cannot get by with sham virtues, but where, like the tightrope walker on his rope, one either stands or falls — or gets away. "Evil men have no songs." How is it, then, that the Russians have songs? "German spirit": for the past eighteen years a contradiction in terms. By searching out origins, one becomes a crab. The historian looks backward; eventually he also believes backward. Being pleased with oneself protects even against the cold. Has a woman who knew herself to be well dressed ever caught a cold? I am a**uming that she was barely dressed. I mistrust all systematizers and avoid them. The will to a system is a lack of integrity. #Women are considered profound. Why? Because we never fathom their depths. But women aren't even shallow. If a woman has only manly virtues, we run away; and if she has no manly virtues, she runs away herself. "How much has conscience had to chew on in the past! And what excellent teeth it had! And today — what is lacking?" A dentist's question. One rarely falls into a single error. Falling into the first one, one always does too much. So one usually perpetrates another one — and now one does too little. When stepped on, a worm doubles up. That is clever. In that way he lessens the probability of being stepped on again. In the language of morality: humility. We hate lies and hypocrisy because our sense of honor is easily provoked. But the same hatred can arise from cowardice, since lies are forbidden by divine commandment: in that case, we are too cowardly to lie. #How little is required for pleasure! The sound of a bagpipe. Without music, life would be an error. The German imagines that even God sings songs. On ne peut penser et ecrire qu'a**is [One cannot think and write except when seated] (G. Flaubert). There I have caught you, nihilist! The sedentary life is the very sin against the Holy Spirit. Only thoughts reached by walking have value. There are cases in which we are like horses, we psychologists, and become skittish: we see our own shadow looming up before us. A psychologist must turn his eyes from himself to see anything at all. Are we immoralists harming virtue? No more than anarchists harm princes. Only because the latter are shot at do they once more sit securely on their thrones. Moral: morality must be shot at. You run ahead? Are you doing it as a shepherd? Or as an exception? A third case would be as a fugitive. First question of conscience. Are you genuine? Or merely an actor? A representative? Or that which is represented? In the end, perhaps you are merely a copy of an actor. Second question of conscience. Are you one who looks on? Or one who lends a hand? Or one who looks away and walks off? Third question of conscience. Do you want to walk along? Or walk ahead? Or walk by yourself? One must know what one wants and that one wants. Fourth question of conscience. The disappointed one speaks. I searched for great human beings; I always found only the imitators of their ideals. Those were steps for me, and I have climbed up over them: to that end I had to pa** over them. Yet they thought that I wanted to retire on them. What does it matter if I am right? I am much too right. And he who laughs best today will also laugh last. The formula of my happiness: a Yes, a No, a straight line, a goal.