"Nothing is true, all is permitted": so said I to myself. Into the coldest water did I plunge with head and heart. Ah, how oft did I stand there naked on that account, like a red crab!
Ah, where have gone all my goodness and all my shame and all my belief in the good! Ah, where is the lying innocence which I once possessed, the innocence of the good and of their noble lies!
Too oft, verily, did I follow close to the heels of truth: then did it kick me on the face. Sometimes I meant to lie, and behold! then only did I hit— the truth.
Too much hath become clear unto me: now it doth not concern me any more. Nothing liveth any longer that I love,--how should I still love myself?
`To live as I incline, or not to live at all`: so do I wish; so wisheth also the holiest. But alas! how have I still--inclination?
Have I--still a goal? A haven towards which MY sail is set?
Thus Spake Zarathustra