And one day Zarathustra made a sign to his disciples, and spake these words unto them:
"Here are priests: but although they are mine enemies, pass them quietly and with sleeping swords!
Even among them there are heroes; many of them have suffered too much—: so they want to make others suffer
Bad enemies are they: nothing is more revengeful than their meekness. And readily doth he soil himself who toucheth them
But my blood is related to theirs; and I want withal to see my blood honoured in theirs."—
And when they had passed, a pain attacked Zarathustra; but not long had he struggled with the pain, when he began to speak thus:
It moveth my heart for those priests. They also go against my taste; but that is the smallest matter unto me, since I am among men
But I suffer and have suffered with them: prisoners are they unto me, and stigmatised ones. He whom they call Saviour put them in fetters:—
In fetters of false values and fatuous words! Oh, that some one would save them from their Saviour!
On an isle they once thought they had landed, when the sea tossed them about; but behold, it was a slumbering monster!
False values and fatuous words: these are the worst monsters for mortals—long slumbereth and waiteth the fate that is in them
But at last it cometh and awaketh and devoureth and engulfeth whatever hath built tabernacles upon it
Oh, just look at those tabernacles which those priests have built themselves! Churches, they call their sweet-smelling caves!
"Here are priests: but although they are mine enemies, pass them quietly and with sleeping swords!
Even among them there are heroes; many of them have suffered too much—: so they want to make others suffer
Bad enemies are they: nothing is more revengeful than their meekness. And readily doth he soil himself who toucheth them
But my blood is related to theirs; and I want withal to see my blood honoured in theirs."—
And when they had passed, a pain attacked Zarathustra; but not long had he struggled with the pain, when he began to speak thus:
It moveth my heart for those priests. They also go against my taste; but that is the smallest matter unto me, since I am among men
But I suffer and have suffered with them: prisoners are they unto me, and stigmatised ones. He whom they call Saviour put them in fetters:—
In fetters of false values and fatuous words! Oh, that some one would save them from their Saviour!
On an isle they once thought they had landed, when the sea tossed them about; but behold, it was a slumbering monster!
False values and fatuous words: these are the worst monsters for mortals—long slumbereth and waiteth the fate that is in them
But at last it cometh and awaketh and devoureth and engulfeth whatever hath built tabernacles upon it
Oh, just look at those tabernacles which those priests have built themselves! Churches, they call their sweet-smelling caves!
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