276

With all kinds of injury and loss the lower and cruder soul is better off than the more noble one: the dangers for the latter must be greater; the probability that it will go wrong and die is even immense, given the multifaceted nature of its living conditions. - With a lizard a finger which has been lost grows back: not so with a man.

277

Bad enough! The old story again! When we have finished building our house, we suddenly notice that we have learned something in the process, something we simply had to know before we started to build. The eternally tiresome "Too late!" - The melancholy of everything finished! . . .

278

Wanderer, who are you? I see you going on your way, without scorn, without love, with unfathomable eyes, damp and sad like a lead sinker which has come back unsatisfied from every depth into the light - what was it looking for down there? - with a breast which does not sigh, with a lip which hides its disgust, with a hand which now grasps only slowly: Who are you? What have you been doing? Have a rest here: this place is hospitable to everyone - relax! And whoever you happen to be, what would you like now? What do you need to recuperate? Just name it: what I have I'll offer you! "For relaxation? For recuperation? O you inquisitive man, what are you talking about! But give me, I beg . . ." What? What? Say it! - "One more mask! A second mask!" . . . .

279

Men of profound sorrow betray themselves when they are happy: they have a way of grabbing happiness as if they would like to overwhelm and strangle it from jealousy - alas, they know too well that it's running away from them!

280

"Bad! Bad! What? Is he not going - back?" - Yes! But you understand him badly if you complain about it. He's going back, as every man does who wants to make a huge jump.-