my brethren, when I enjoined you to break up the good, and the tables
of the good, then only did I embark man on his high seas.

And now only cometh unto him the great terror, the great outlook, the
great sickness, the great nausea, the great sea-sickness.

False shores and false securities did the good teach you; in the lies of
the good were ye born and bred. Everything hath been radically contorted
and distorted by the good.

But he who discovered the country of "man," discovered also the country
of "man's future." Now shall ye be sailors for me, brave, patient!

Keep yourselves up betimes, my brethren, learn to keep yourselves up!
The sea stormeth: many seek to raise themselves again by you.

The sea stormeth: all is in the sea. Well! Cheer up! Ye old
seaman-hearts!

What of fatherland! THITHER striveth our helm where our CHILDREN'S LAND
is! Thitherwards, stormier than the sea, stormeth our great longing!--

29.

"Why so hard!"--said to the diamond one day the charcoal; "are we then
not near relatives?"--

Why so soft? O my brethren; thus do _I_ ask you: are ye then not--my
brethren?

Why so soft, so submissive and yielding? Why is there so much negation
and abnegation in your hearts? Why is there so little fate in your
looks?

And if ye will not be fates and inexorable ones, how can ye one day--
conquer with me?

And if your hardness will not glance and cut and chip to pieces, how can
ye one day--create with me?

For the creators are hard. And blessedness must it seem to you to press
your hand upon millenniums as upon wax,--

--Blessedness to write upon the will of millenniums as upon
brass,--harder than brass, nobler than brass. Entirely hard is only the
noblest.

This new table, O my brethren, put I up over you: BECOME HARD!--

30.

O thou, my Will! Thou change of every need, MY needfulness! Preserve me
from all small victories!

Thou fatedness of my soul, which I call fate! Thou In-me! Over-me!
Preserve and spare me for one great fate!

And thy last greatness, my Will, spare it for thy last--that thou mayest
be inexorable IN thy victory! Ah, who hath not succumbed to his victory!

Ah, whose eye hath not bedimmed in this intoxicated twilight! Ah, whose
foot hath not faltered and forgotten in victory--how to stand!--

--That I may one day be ready and ripe in the great noontide: ready and
ripe like the glowing ore, the lightning-bearing cloud, and the swelling
milk-udder:--

--Ready f