"Since I have known the body better"—said Zarathustra to one of his disciples—"the spirit hath only been to me symbolically spirit; and all the 'imperishable'—that is also but a simile."
"So have I heard thee say once before," answered the disciple, "and then thou addedst: 'But the poets lie too much.' Why didst thou say that the poets lie too much?"
"Why?" said Zarathustra. "Thou askest why? I do not belong to those who may be asked after their Why
Is my experience but of yesterday? It is long ago that I experienced the reasons for mine opinions
Should I not have to be a cask of memory, if I also wanted to have my reasons with me?
It is already too much for me even to retain mine opinions; and many a bird flieth away
And sometimes, also, do I find a fugitive creature in my dovecote, which is alien to me, and trembleth when I lay my hand upon it
But what did Zarathustra once say unto thee? That the poets lie too much?—But Zarathustra also is a poet
Believest thou that he there spake the truth? Why dost thou believe it?"
The disciple answered: "I believe in Zarathustra." But Zarathustra shook his head and smiled.—
Belief doth not sanctify me, said he, least of all the belief in myself
But granting that some one did say in all seriousness that the poets lie too much: he was right—WE do lie too much
We also know too little, and are bad learners: so we are obliged to lie
"So have I heard thee say once before," answered the disciple, "and then thou addedst: 'But the poets lie too much.' Why didst thou say that the poets lie too much?"
"Why?" said Zarathustra. "Thou askest why? I do not belong to those who may be asked after their Why
Is my experience but of yesterday? It is long ago that I experienced the reasons for mine opinions
Should I not have to be a cask of memory, if I also wanted to have my reasons with me?
It is already too much for me even to retain mine opinions; and many a bird flieth away
And sometimes, also, do I find a fugitive creature in my dovecote, which is alien to me, and trembleth when I lay my hand upon it
But what did Zarathustra once say unto thee? That the poets lie too much?—But Zarathustra also is a poet
Believest thou that he there spake the truth? Why dost thou believe it?"
The disciple answered: "I believe in Zarathustra." But Zarathustra shook his head and smiled.—
Belief doth not sanctify me, said he, least of all the belief in myself
But granting that some one did say in all seriousness that the poets lie too much: he was right—WE do lie too much
We also know too little, and are bad learners: so we are obliged to lie
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