Have you not heard of that mad man who lit a lantern in the bright morning hours, ran to the market
place and cried incessantly," I seek God." As many of those who do not believe in God, would stand around just then, he provoked much laughter.
"Why? Did he get lost," said one.
"Did he lose his way like a child," said another.
What is he hiding. The mad man jumped amidst and pierced into his glances.
"Where is God? We have killed him- you and I. All of us are his murderers.
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I'm a wanderer and a mountain climber, Zarathustra said to his heart. What returns, what finally comes home to me is my own self. Alas! I've begun my loneliest walk. But, who ever is of my kind, cannot escape such an hour. The hour which says to him- 'Only now are you going your way to greatness. Peak and abyss are now joined together. For all things are baptized in a well of eternity
and lie beyond good and evil.
My principle article of faith is that one can only flourish among people who share the identical ideas and identical will. I have no one: that is my sickness.
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