(1844 - 1900)
sublime one saw I today, a solemn one, a penitent of the
spirit: Oh, how my soul laughed at his ugliness! (thus
"ONE is always too many about me"-
thinketh the anchorite. "Always once one- that maketh two in the
I and me are always too earnestly in conversation:
how could it be endured, if there were not a friend?
The friend of the anchorite is always the
third one: the third one is the cork which preventeth the conversation
of the two sinking into the depth.
Ah! there are too many depths for all anchorites.
Therefore, do they long so much for a friend and for his elevation.
Our faith in others betrayeth wherein we
would fain have faith in ourselves. Our longing for a friend is our betrayer.
And often with our love we want merely
to overleap envy. And often we attack and make ourselves enemies, to conceal
that we are vulnerable.
"Be at least mine enemy!"- thus
speaketh the true reverence, which doth not venture to solicit friendship.
If one would have a friend, then must one
also be willing to wage war for him: and in order to wage war, one must
be capable of being an enemy.
One ought still to honour the enemy in
one's friend. Canst thou go nigh unto thy friend, and not go over to him?
In one's friend one shall have one's best
enemy. Thou shalt be closest unto him with thy heart when thou withstandest
Thou wouldst wear no raiment before thy
friend? It is in honour of thy friend that thou showest thyself to him
as thou art? But he wisheth thee to the devil on that account!
He who maketh no secret of himself shocketh:
so much reason have ye to fear nakedness! Aye, if ye were gods, ye could
then be ashamed of clothing!
Thou canst not adorn thyself fine enough
for thy friend; for thou shalt be unto him an arrow and a longing for
Sawest thou ever thy friend asleep- to
know how he looketh? What is usually the countenance of thy friend? It
is thine own countenance, in a coarse and imperfect mirror.
Sawest thou ever thy friend asleep? Wert
thou not dismayed at thy friend looking so? O my friend, man is something
that hath to be surpassed.
In divining and keeping silence shall the
friend be a master: not everything must thou wish to see. Thy dream shall
disclose unto thee what thy friend doeth when awake.
Let thy pity be a divining: to know first
if thy friend wanteth pity. Perhaps he loveth in thee the unmoved eye,
and the look of eternity.
Let thy pity for thy friend be hid under
a hard shell; thou shalt bite out a tooth upon it. Thus will it have delicacy
Art thou pure air and solitude and bread
and medicine to thy friend? Many a one cannot loosen his own fetters,
but is nevertheless his friend's emancipator.
Art thou a slave? Then thou canst not be
a friend. Art thou a tyrant? Then thou canst not have friends.
Far too long hath there been a slave and
a tyrant concealed in woman. On that account woman is not yet capable
of friendship: she knoweth only love.
In woman's love there is injustice and
blindness to all she doth not love. And even in woman's conscious love,
there is still always surprise and lightning and night, along with the
As yet woman is not capable of friendship:
women are still cats and birds. Or at the best, cows.
As yet woman is not capable of friendship.
But tell me, ye men, who of you is capable of friendship?
Oh! your poverty, ye men, and your sordidness
of soul! As much as ye give to your friend, will I give even to my foe,
and will not have become poorer thereby.
There is comradeship: may there be friendship!
Thus spake Zarathustra.
qu'on fait n'est jamais compris mais seulement loué ou blâmé.
Nietzsche, Gay Science