PREFACE
 This
book belongs to the most rare of men. Perhaps not one of them is yet alive.
It is possible that they may be among those who understand my
"Zarathustra":
how could I confound myself with those who are now sprouting ears?
— First the day after tomorrow must come for me. Some men are born
posthumously.
The conditions under which any one
understands
me, and necessarily understands me — I know them only too well.
Even to endure my seriousness, my passion, he must carry intellectual
integrity
to the verge of hardness. He must be accustomed to living on mountain tops
— and to looking upon the wretched gabble of politics and nationalism as
beneath
him.
He must have become indifferent; he must never ask of the truth whether
it brings profit to him or a fatality to him ... He must have an
inclination,
born of strength, for questions that no one has the courage for; the
courage
for the
forbidden;
predestination for the labyrinth. The experience
of seven solitudes. New ears for new music. New eyes for what is most
distant.
A new conscience for truths that have hitherto remained unheard. And
the
will to economize in the grand manner — to hold together his strength,
his enthusiasm ... Reverence for self; love of self; absolute freedom of
self ....
Very well, then! of that sort only are
my readers, my true readers, my readers foreordained: of what account are
the
rest? — The rest are merely humanity. — One must make one's
self superior to humanity, in power, in loftiness
of soul, — in
contempt.
FRIEDRICH W. NIETZSCHE.
1.
— Let us look each other in the face. We are
Hyperboreans — we know well enough how remote our place is. "Neither by
land nor by water will you find the road to the Hyperboreans": even
Pindar1,in
his day, knew that much about us. Beyond the North, beyond the ice,
beyond death — our life, our
happiness ... We have discovered
that happiness; we know the way; we got our knowledge of it from thousands
of years in the labyrinth. Who else has found it? — The man of
today?
— "I don't know either the way out or the way in; I am whatever doesn't
know either the way out or the way in" — so sighs the man of today ...
This
is the sort of modernity that made us ill, — we sickened on lazy peace,
cowardly compromise, the whole virtuous dirtiness of the modern Yea and
Nay. This tolerance and largeur of the heart that "forgives"
everything
because it "understands" everything is a sirocco to us. Rather live amid
the ice than among modern virtues and other such south-winds! ... We were
brave enough; we spared neither ourselves nor others; but we were a long
time finding out where to direct our courage. We grew dismal; they
called us fatalists. Our fate — it was the fulness, the tension,
the storing up of powers. We thirsted for the lightnings and great
deeds; we kept as far as possible from the happiness of the weakling, from
"resignation" ... There was thunder in our air; nature, as we embodied
it, became overcast — for we had not yet found the way. The formula
of our happiness: a Yea, a Nay, a straight line, a
goal...
2.
What is good? — Whatever augments the feeling
of power, the will to power, power itself, in man.
What is evil? — Whatever springs from
weakness.
What is happiness? — The feeling that power
increases
— that resistance is overcome.
Not contentment, but more power; not peace
at any price, but war; not virtue, but efficiency (virtue in the
Renaissance sense, virtu,
virtue free of moral acid).
The weak and the botched shall perish:
first principle of our
charity. And one should help them to it.
What is more harmful than any vice? —
Practical
sympathy for the botched and the weak — Christianity ...
3.
The problem that I set here is not what shall
replace mankind in the order of living creatures ( — man is an end — ):
but what type of man must be bred,
must be willed, as being
the most valuable, the most worthy of life, the most secure guarantee of
the future.
This more valuable type has appeared often
enough in the past: but always as a happy accident, as an exception, never
as deliberately willed. Very often it has been precisely the most
feared; hitherto it has been almost
the terror of terrors; — and
out of that terror the contrary type has been willed, cultivated and
attained:
the
domestic animal, the herd animal, the sick brute-man — the Christian
...
4.
Mankind surely does not
represent an
evolution toward a better or stronger or higher level, as progress is now
understood. This "progress" is merely a modern idea, which is to say, a
false idea. The European of today, in his essential worth, falls far below
the European of the Renaissance; the process of evolution does not
necessarily
mean elevation, enhancement, strengthening.
True enough, it succeeds in isolated and
individual cases in various parts of the earth and under the most widely
different cultures, and in these cases a higher
type certainly manifests
itself; something which, compared to mankind in the mass, appears as a
sort of superman. Such happy strokes of high success have always been
possible,
and will remain possible, perhaps, for all time to come. Even whole races,
tribes and nations may occasionally represent such lucky
accidents.
5.
We should not deck out and embellish
Christianity:
it has waged a war to the death against this higher
type of man,
it has put all the deepest instincts of this type under its ban, it has
developed its concept of evil, of the Evil One himself, out of these
instincts
— the strong man as the typical reprobate, the "outcast among men."
Christianity
has taken the part of all the weak, the low, the botched; it has made an
ideal out of
antagonism
to all the self-preservative instincts of
sound life; it has corrupted even the faculties of those natures that are
intellectually most vigorous, by representing the highest intellectual
values as sinful, as misleading, as full of temptation. The most lamentable
example: the corruption of Pascal, who believed that his intellect had
been destroyed by original sin, whereas it was actually destroyed by
Christianity!
6.
It is a painful and tragic spectacle that
rises before me: I have drawn back the curtain from the
rottenness of
man. This word, in my mouth, is at least free from one suspicion: that
it involves a moral accusation against humanity. It is used — and I wish
to emphasize the fact again — without any moral significance: and this
is so far true that the rottenness I speak of is most apparent to me
precisely
in those quarters where there has been most aspiration, hitherto, toward
"virtue" and "godliness." As you probably surmise, I understand rottenness
in the sense of
decadence:
my argument is that all the values on
which mankind now fixes its highest aspirations are
decadence-values.
I call an animal, a species, an individual
corrupt, when it loses its instincts, when it chooses, when it prefers,
what
is injurious to it. A history of the "higher feelings," the "ideals of
humanity" — and it is possible that I'll have to write it — would almost
explain why man is so degenerate. Life itself appears to me as an instinct
for growth, for survival, for the accumulation of forces, for
power:
whenever
the will to power fails there is disaster. My contention is that all the
highest values of humanity have been emptied of this will — that the values
of
decadence,
of
nihilism,
now prevail under the holiest
names.
7.
Christianity is called the religion of
pity.
— Pity stands in opposition to all the tonic passions that augment the
energy of the feeling of aliveness: it is a depressant. A man loses power
when he pities. Through pity that drain upon strength which suffering works
is multiplied a thousandfold. Suffering is made contagious by pity; under
certain circumstances it may lead to a total sacrifice of life and living
energy — a loss out of all proportion to the magnitude of the cause ( —
the case of the death of the Nazarene). This is the first view of it; there
is, however, a still more important one. If one measures the effects of
pity by the gravity of the reactions it sets up, its character as a menace
to life appears in a much clearer light. Pity thwarts the whole law of
evolution, which is the law of natural selection. It preserves whatever
is ripe for destruction; it fights on the side of those disinherited and
condemned by life; by maintaining life in so many of the botched of all
kinds, it gives life itself a gloomy and dubious aspect. Mankind has
ventured
to call pity a virtue ( — in every
superior
moral system it appears
as a weakness — ); going still further, it has been called
the
virtue,
the source and foundation of all other virtues — but let us always bear
in mind that this was from the standpoint of a philosophy that was
nihilistic,
and upon whose shield
the denial of life was inscribed. Schopenhauer
was right in this: that by means of pity life is denied, and made worthy
of denial — pity
is the technic of nihilism. Let me repeat: this depressing
and contagious instinct stands against all those instincts which work for
the preservation and enhancement of life: in the role of
protector
of
the miserable, it is a prime agent in the promotion of
decadence — pity
persuades
to extinction .... Of course, one doesn't say "extinction": one says "the
other world," or "God," or "the true
life," or Nirvana, salvation,
blessedness .... This innocent rhetoric, from the realm of
religious-ethical
balderdash, appears a
good deal less innocent when one reflects
upon the tendency that it conceals beneath sublime words: the tendency
to destroy life.
Schopenhauer was hostile to life: that is why pity
appeared to him as a virtue .... Aristotle, as every one knows, saw in
pity a sickly and dangerous state of mind, the remedy for which was an
occasional purgative: he regarded tragedy as that purgative. The instinct
of life should prompt us to seek some means of puncturing any such
pathological
and dangerous accumulation of pity as that appearing in Schopenhauer's
case (and also, alack, in that of our whole literary
decadence,
from
St. Petersburg to Paris, from Tolstoi to Wagner), that it may burst and
be discharged ... Nothing is more unhealthy, amid all our unhealthy
modernism,
than Christian pity. To be the doctors here, to be unmerciful
here,
to
wield the knife here — all this is our business, all this is
our
sort
of humanity, by this sign we are philosophers, we Hyperboreans !
—
8.
It is necessary to say just
whom we
regard as our antagonists: theologians and all who have any theological
blood in their veins — this is our whole philosophy .... One must have
faced that menace at close hand, better still, one must have had experience
of it directly and almost succumbed to it, to realize that it is not to
be taken lightly ( — the alleged free-thinking of our naturalists and
physiologists
seems to me to be a joke — they have no passion about such things; they
have not suffered — ). This poisoning goes a great deal further than most
people think: I find the arrogant habit of the theologian among all who
regard themselves as "idealists" — among all who, by virtue of a higher
point of departure, claim a right to rise above reality, and to look upon
it with suspicion ... The idealist, like the ecclesiastic, carries all
sorts of lofty concepts in his hand ( — and not only in his hand!); he
launches them with benevolent contempt against "understanding," "the
senses,"
"honor," "good living," "science"; he sees such things as
beneath him,
as pernicious and seductive forces, on which "the soul" soars as a pure
thing-in-itself — as if humility, chastity, poverty, in a word,
holiness,
had
not already done much more damage to life than all imaginable horrors and
vices ... The pure soul is a pure lie ... So long as the priest, that
professional
denier,
calumniator and poisoner of life, is accepted as a
higher
variety
of man, there can be no answer to the question, What
is truth? Truth
has already been stood on its head when the obvious attorney of mere
emptiness
is mistaken for its representative.
9.
Upon this theological instinct I make war:
I find the tracks of it everywhere. Whoever has theological blood in his
veins is shifty and dishonorable in all things. The pathetic thing that
grows out of this condition is called
faith: in other words, closing
one's eyes upon one's self once for all, to avoid suffering the sight of
incurable falsehood. People erect a concept of morality, of virtue, of
holiness upon this false view of all things; they ground good conscience
upon faulty vision; they argue that no
other
sort of vision has
value any more, once they have made theirs sacrosanct with the names of
"God," "salvation" and "eternity." I unearth this theological instinct
in all directions: it is the most widespread and the most subterranean
form
of falsehood to be found on earth. Whatever a theologian regards as true
must
be
false: there you have almost a criterion of truth. His profound instinct
of self-preservation stands against truth ever coming into honor in any
way, or even getting stated. Wherever the influence of theologians is felt
there is a transvaluation of values, and the concepts "true" and "false"
are forced to change places: what ever is most damaging to life is there
called "true," and whatever exalts it, intensifies it, approves it,
justifies
it and makes it triumphant is there called "false."... When theologians,
working through the "consciences" of princes (or of peoples — ), stretch
out their hands for power, there is never any doubt as to the
fundamental
issue: the will to make an end, the
nihilistic
will exerts that
power...
10.
Among Germans I am immediately understood
when I say that theological blood is the ruin of philosophy. The Protestant
pastor is the grandfather of German philosophy; Protestantism itself is
its
peccatum originale. Definition of Protestantism: hemiplegic
paralysis of Christianity — and of reason .... One need only utter the
words "Tubingen School" to get an understanding of what German philosophy
is at bottom — a very artful form of theology ... The Suabians are the
best liars in Germany; they lie innocently .... Why all the rejoicing over
the appearance of Kant that went through the learned world of Germany,
three-fourths of which is made up of the sons of preachers and teachers
— why the German conviction still echoing, that with Kant came a change
for the better?
The theological instinct of German scholars made
them see clearly just
what
had become possible again .... A backstairs
leading to the old ideal stood open; the concept of the "true world," the
concept of morality as the essence of the world ( — the two most vicious
errors that ever existed!), were once more, thanks to a subtle and wily
skepticism, if not actually demonstrable, then at least no longer
refutable
...
Reason,
the prerogative of reason, does not go so far ... Out of reality there
had been made "appearance"; an absolutely false world, that of being, had
been turned into reality .... The success of Kant is merely a theological
success; he was, like Luther and Leibnitz, but one more impediment to
German
integrity, already far from steady. —
11.
A word now against Kant as a moralist. A
virtue
must be
our invention; it must spring out of our
personal
need and defense. In every other case it is a source of danger. That which
does not belong to our life
menaces
it; a virtue which has its roots
in mere respect for the concept of "virtue," as Kant would have it, is
pernicious. "Virtue," "duty," "good for its own sake," goodness grounded
upon impersonality or a notion of universal validity — these are all
chimeras,
and in them one finds only an expression of the decay, the last collapse
of life, the Chinese spirit of Konigsberg. Quite the contrary is demanded
by the most profound laws of self-preservation and of growth: to wit, that
every man find his own
virtue, his own
categorical imperative.
A nation goes to pieces when it confounds
its duty with the general
concept of duty. Nothing works a more complete and penetrating disaster
than every "impersonal" duty, every sacrifice before the Moloch of
abstraction.
— To think that no one has thought of Kant's categorical imperative as
dangerous
to life! ... The theological instinct alone took it under protection
! — An action prompted by the life-instinct proves that it is a right
action
by the amount of pleasure that goes with it: and yet that nihilist, with
his bowels of Christian dogmatism, regarded pleasure as an objection
...
What destroys a man more quickly than to work, think and feel without inner
necessity, without any deep personal desire, without pleasure — as a mere
automaton of duty? That is the recipe for decadence, and no less
for idiocy ... Kant became an idiot. — And such a man was the contemporary
of Goethe! This calamitous spinner of cobwebs passed for the German
philosopher — still passes today! ... I forbid myself to say what I think
of the Germans.... Didn't Kant see in the French Revolution the
transformation
of the state from the inorganic form to the organic? Didn't he ask
himself if there was a single event that could be explained save on the
assumption of a moral faculty in man, so that on the basis of it, "the
tendency of mankind toward the good" could be explained, once and
for all time? Kant's answer: "That is revolution." Instinct at fault in
everything and anything, instinct as a revolt against nature, German
decadence
as
a philosophy — that is Kant! —
12.
I put aside a few skeptics, the types of
decency
in the history of philosophy: the rest haven't the slightest conception
of intellectual integrity. They behave like women, all these great
enthusiasts
and prodigies — they regard "beautiful feelings" as arguments, the "heaving
breast" as the bellows of divine inspiration, conviction as the
criterion
of
truth. In the end, with "German" innocence, Kant tried to give a scientific
flavor to this form of corruption, this dearth of intellectual conscience,
by calling it "practical reason." He deliberately invented a variety of
reasons for use on occasions when it was desirable not to trouble with
reason — that is, when morality, when the sublime command "thou shalt,"
was heard. When one recalls the fact that, among all peoples, the
philosopher
is no more than a development from the old type of priest, this inheritance
from the priest, this fraud upon self, ceases to be remarkable.
When a man feels that he has a divine mission, say to lift up, to save
or to liberate mankind — when a man feels the divine spark in his heart
and believes that he is the mouthpiece of supernatural imperatives — when
such a mission in. flames him, it is only natural that he should stand
beyond all merely reasonable standards of judgment. He feels that he is
himself
sanctified
by this mission, that he is himself a type of a higher order! ... What
has a priest to do with philosophy! He stands far above it! — And hitherto
the priest has ruled! —
He has determined the meaning of
"true" and "not true"!
13.
Let us not under-estimate this fact: that
we
ourselves, we free spirits, are already a "transvaluation of all
values,"
a
visualized
declaration of war and victory against all the
old concepts of "true" and "not true." The most valuable intuitions are
the last to be attained; the most valuable of all are those which determine
methods.
All
the methods, all the principles of the scientific spirit of today, were
the targets for thousands of years of the most profound contempt; if a
man inclined to them he was excluded from the society of "decent" people
— he passed as "an enemy of God," as a scoffer at the truth, as one
"possessed."
As a man of science, he belonged to the Chandala2...
We have had the whole pathetic stupidity of mankind against us — their
every notion of what the truth ought to be, of what the service
of the truth ought to be — their every "thou shalt" was launched
against us.... Our objectives, our methods, our quiet, cautious,
distrustful
manner — all appeared to them as absolutely discreditable and contemptible.
— Looking back, one may almost ask one's self with reason if it was not
actually an aesthetic sense that kept men blind so long: what they
demanded of the truth was picturesque effectiveness, and of the learned
a strong appeal to their senses. It was our modesty
that stood out
longest against their taste ... How well they guessed that, these
turkey-cocks
of God!
14.
We have unlearned something. We have be come
more modest in every way. We no longer derive man from the "spirit," from
the "god-head"; we have dropped him back among the beasts. We regard him
as the strongest of the beasts because he is the craftiest; one of the
results thereof is his intellectuality. On the other hand, we guard
ourselves
against a conceit which would assert itself even here: that man is the
great second thought in the process of organic evolution. He is, in truth,
anything but the crown of creation: beside him stand many other animals,
all at similar stages of development ... And even when we say that we say
a bit too much, for man, relatively speaking, is the most botched of all
the animals and the sickliest, and he has wandered the most dangerously
from his instincts — though for all that, to be sure, he remains the most
interesting!
— As regards the lower animals, it was
Descartes who first had the really admirable daring to describe them as
machina;
the
whole of our physiology is directed toward proving the truth of this
doctrine.
Moreover, it is illogical to set man apart, as Descartes did: what we know
of man today is limited precisely by the extent to which we have regarded
him, too, as a machine. Formerly we accorded to man, as his inheritance
from some higher order of beings, what was called "free will"; now we have
taken even this will from him, for the term no longer describes anything
that we can understand. The old word "will" now connotes only a sort of
result, an individual reaction, that follows inevitably upon a series of
partly discordant and partly harmonious stimuli — the will no longer
"acts,"
or "moves." ... Formerly it was thought that man's consciousness, his
"spirit,"
offered evidence of his high origin, his divinity. That he might be
perfected,
he
was advised, tortoise-like, to draw his senses in, to have no traffic with
earthly things, to shuffle off his mortal coil — then only the important
part of him, the "pure spirit," would remain. Here again we have thought
out the thing better: to us consciousness, or "the spirit," appears as
a symptom of a relative imperfection of the organism, as an experiment,
a groping, a misunderstanding, as an affliction which uses up nervous force
unnecessarily — we deny that anything can be done perfectly so long as
it is done consciously. The "pure spirit" is a piece of pure stupidity:
take away the nervous system and the senses, the so-called "mortal shell,"
and the rest is miscalculation —
that
is all!...
15.
Under Christianity neither morality nor
religion
has any point of contact with actuality. It offers purely imaginary
causes
("God"
"soul," "ego," "spirit," "free will" — or even "unfree"), and purely
imaginary
effects
("sin"
"salvation" "grace," "punishment," "forgiveness of sins"). Intercourse
between imaginary beings ("God," "spirits," "souls"); an imaginary
natural
history (anthropocentric; a total denial of the concept of natural
causes); an imaginary psychology
(misunderstandings of self, misinterpretations
of agreeable or disagreeable general feelings — for example, of the states
of the nervus sympathicus with the help of the sign-language of
religio-ethical balderdash — , "repentance," "pangs of conscience,"
"temptation
by the devil," "the presence of God"); an imaginary teleology (the
"kingdom of God," "the last judgment," "eternal life"). — This purely
fictitious
world, greatly to its disadvantage, is to be differentiated from the
world of dreams; the later at least reflects reality, whereas the former
falsifies it, cheapens it and denies it. Once the concept of "nature" had
been opposed to the concept of "God," the word "natural" necessarily took
on the meaning of "abominable" — the whole of that fictitious world has
its sources in hatred of the natural ( — the real! — ), and is no more
than evidence of a profound uneasiness in the presence of reality....
This
explains everything. Who alone has any reason for living his way out
of reality? The man who suffers under it. But to suffer from reality one
must be a botched reality.... The preponderance of pains over
pleasures
is the cause of this fictitious morality and religion: but such a
preponderance
also supplies the formula for
decadence...
16.
A criticism of the
Christian concept of
God leads inevitably to the same conclusion. — A nation that still
believes in itself holds fast to its own god. In him it does honor to the
conditions which enable it to survive, to its virtues — it projects its
joy in itself, its feeling of power, into a being to whom one may offer
thanks. He who is rich will give of his riches; a proud people need a god
to whom they can make
sacrifices ... Religion, within these limits,
is a form of gratitude. A man is grateful for his own existence: to that
end he needs a god. — Such a god must be able to work both benefits and
injuries; he must be able to play either friend or foe — he is wondered
at for the good he does as well as for the evil he does. But the
castration,
against all nature, of such a god, making him a god of goodness alone,
would be contrary to human inclination. Mankind has just as much need for
an evil god as for a good god; it doesn't have to thank mere tolerance
and humanitarianism for its own existence.... What would be the value of
a god who knew nothing of anger, revenge, envy, scorn, cunning, violence?
who had perhaps never experienced the rapturous ardeurs
of victory
and of destruction? No one would understand such a god: why should any
one want him? — True enough, when a nation is on the downward path, when
it feels its belief in its own future, its hope of freedom slipping from
it, when it begins to see submission as a first necessity and the virtues
of submission as measures of self-preservation, then it
must
overhaul
its god. He then becomes a hypocrite, timorous and demure; he counsels
"peace of soul," hate-no-more, leniency, "love" of friend and foe. He
moralizes
endlessly; he creeps into every private virtue; he becomes the god of every
man; he becomes a private citizen, a cosmopolitan... Formerly he
represented
a people, the strength of a people, everything aggressive and thirsty for
power in the soul of a people; now he is simply
the good god ...
The truth is that there is no other alternative for gods:
either they
are the will to power — in which case they are national gods — or
incapacity
for power — in which case they have to be good.
17.
Wherever the will to power begins to decline,
in whatever form, there is always an accompanying decline physiologically,
a
decadence. The divinity of this decadence,
shorn of its
masculine virtues and passions, is converted perforce into a god of the
physiologically degraded, of the weak. Of course, they do not call
themselves
the weak; they call themselves "the good." ... No hint is needed to
indicate
the moments in history at which the dualistic fiction of a good and an
evil god first became possible. The same instinct which prompts the
inferior
to reduce their own god to "goodness-in-itself" also prompts them to
eliminate
all good qualities from the god of their superiors; they make revenge on
their masters by making a devil of the latter's god. — The good
god,
and the devil like him — both are abortions of
decadence. — How
can we be so tolerant of the naïveté of Christian theologians
as to join in their doctrine that the evolution of the concept of god from
"the god of Israel," the god of a people, to the Christian god, the essence
of all goodness, is to be described as progress? — But
even Renan
does this. As if Renan had a right to be naïve! The contrary actually
stares one in the face. When everything necessary to
ascending life;
when all that is strong, courageous, masterful and proud has been
eliminated
from the concept of a god; when he has sunk step by step to the level of
a staff for the weary, a sheet-anchor for the drowning; when he be comes
the poor man's god, the sinner's god, the invalid's god
par excellence,
and
the attribute of "savior" or "redeemer" remains as the one essential
attribute
of divinity — just what is the significance of such a metamorphosis?
what does such a reduction of the godhead imply? — To be sure, the
"kingdom of God" has thus grown larger. Formerly he had only his own
people,
his "chosen" people. But since then he has gone wandering, like his people
themselves, into foreign parts; he has given up settling down quietly
anywhere;
finally he has come to feel at home everywhere, and is the great
cosmopolitan
— until now he has the "great majority" on his side, and half the earth.
But this god of the "great majority," this democrat among gods, has not
become a proud heathen god: on the contrary, he remains a Jew, he remains
a god in a corner, a god of all the dark nooks and crevices, of all the
noisesome quarters of the world! ... His earthly kingdom, now as always,
is a kingdom of the underworld, a
souterrain kingdom, a ghetto kingdom
... And he himself is so pale, so weak, so decadent
... Even the
palest of the pale are able to master him — messieurs the metaphysicians,
those albinos of the intellect. They spun their webs around him for so
long that finally he was hypnotized, and began to spin himself, and became
another metaphysician. Thereafter he resumed once more his old business
of spinning the world out of his inmost being
sub specie Spinozae;
thereafter
he be came ever thinner and paler — became the "ideal," became "pure
spirit,"
became "the absolute," became "the thing-in-itself." ...The collapse
of a god: he became a "thing-in-itself."
18.
The Christian concept of a god — the god as
the patron of the sick, the god as a spinner of cobwebs, the god as a
spirit
— is one of the most corrupt concepts that has ever been set up in the
world: it probably touches low-water mark in the ebbing evolution of the
god-type. God degenerated into the
contradiction of life. Instead
of being its transfiguration and eternal Yea! In him war is declared on
life, on nature, on the will to live! God becomes the formula for every
slander upon the "here and now," and for every lie about the "beyond"!
In him nothingness is deified, and the will to nothingness is made holy!
...
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