Something From Nietzsche

This is one of my favorite sections from Nietzsche, very poetic and almost prayer like which seems to captivate the mind even more that most of his works do. To me anyway. Perhaps i will add more of his works on here as i believe there are very beneficial to not only myself but to anyone who chances across them. Enjoy one of the works of the master. 

Genealogy of Morals, First Essay, section 13 - Nietzsche 

At this point i cannot suppress a sigh and a last hope. What is it that i especially find utterly unendurable? That i cannot cope with, that makes me choke and faint? Bad air! Bad air! The approach of some ill constituted thing; that i have to smell the entrails of some ill-constituted soul!

How much one is able to endure: distress, want, bad weather, sickness, toil, solitude. Fundamentally one can cope with everything else, born as one is to a subterranean life of struggle; one emerges again and again into the light, one experiences again and again one's golden hour of victory- and then one stands forth as one was born, unbreakable, tensed, ready for new, even harder, remoter things, like a bow that distress only serves to draw tauter.

But grant me from time to time - if there are divine goddesses in the realm beyond good and evil - grant me the sight, but one glance of something perfect, wholly achieved, happy, mighty, triumphant, something still capable of arousing fear! Of a man who justifies man, of a complementary and redeeming lucky hit on the part of man for the sake of which on may still believe in man! ...

...We can see nothing today that wants to grow greater, we suspect that things will continue to go down, down, to become thinner, more good natured, more prudent, more comfortable, more mediocre, more indifferent, more Chinese, more Christian - there is no doubt that man is getting "better" all the time.

Here precisely is what has become a fatality for Europe - together with the fear of man we have also lost our love of him, our reverence for him, our hopes for him, even the will to him. The sight of man now makes us weary - what is nihilism today if it is not that?

We are weary of man.

February Soul

 Dusting of frost

light snow on the mind

stays my hand

from plunging headlong

into your February soul

 heaven in your eyes

and just above our heads

i yearn to be closer

 The sun's reflections

off the cold beaten winter

blinds me always

Prefer

 Frozen silence

may bring solace

at leaving the weight

you cause behind,

but i would prefer

to smash the anvil

to pieces