Thus Spoke Zarathustra by Friedrich Nietzsche, R. J. Hollingdale

mistrust count as sins with them: one should go about warily. He is a fool who still stumbles over stones or over men!
    A little poison now and then: that produces pleasant dreams. And a lot of poison at last, for a pleasant death.
    They still work, for work is entertainment. But they take care the entertainment does not exhaust them.
    Nobody grows rich or poor any more: both are too much of a burden. Who still wants to rule? Who obey? Both are too much of a burden.
    No herdsman and one herd. Everyone wants the same thing, everyone is the same: whoever thinks otherwise goes voluntarily into the madhouse.
    ‘Formerly all the world was mad,’ say the most acute of them and blink.
    They are clever and know everything that has ever happened: so there is no end to their mockery. They still quarrel, but they soon make up – otherwise indigestion would result.
    They have their little pleasure for the day and their little pleasure for the night: but they respect health.
    ‘We have discovered happiness,’ say the Ultimate Men and blink.
    And here ended Zarathustra’s first discourse, which is also called ‘The Prologue’: 3 for at this point the shouting and mirth of the crowd interrupted him. ‘Give us this Ultimate Man, O Zarathustra’ – so they cried – ‘make us into this Ultimate Man! You can have the Superman!’ And all the people laughed and shouted. But Zarathustra grew sad and said to his heart:
    They do not understand me: I am not the mouth for these ears.
    Perhaps I lived too long in the mountains, listened too much to the trees and the streams: now I speak to them as to goatherds.
    Unmoved is my soul and bright as the mountains in the morning. But they think me cold and a mocker with fearful jokes.
    And now they look at me and laugh: and laughing, they still hate me. There is ice in their laughter.
    6
    But then something happened that silenced every mouth and fixed every eye. In the meantime, of course, the tight-rope walker had begun his work: he had emerged from a little door and was proceeding across the rope, which was stretched between two towers and thus hung over the people and the market square. Just as he had reached the middle of his course the little door opened again and a brightly-dressed fellow like a buffoon sprang out and followed the formerwith rapid steps. ‘Forward, lame-foot!’ cried his fearsome voice, ‘forward sluggard, intruder, pallid-face! Lest I tickle you with my heels! What are you doing here between towers? You belong in the tower, you should be locked up, you are blocking the way of a better man than you!’ And with each word he came nearer and nearer to him: but when he was only a single pace behind him, there occurred the dreadful thing that silenced every mouth and fixed every eye: he emitted a cry like a devil and sprang over the man standing in his path. But the latter, when he saw his rival thus triumph, lost his head and the rope; he threw away his pole and fell, faster even than it, like a vortex of legs and arms. The market square and the people were like a sea in a storm: they flew apart in disorder, especially where the body would come crashing down.
    But Zarathustra remained still and the body fell quite close to him, badly injured and broken but not yet dead. After a while, consciousness returned to the shattered man and he saw Zarathustra kneeling beside him. ‘What are you doing?’ he asked at length. ‘I’ve known for a long time that the Devil would trip me up. Now he’s dragging me to Hell: are you trying to prevent him?’
    ‘On my honour, friend,’ answered Zarathustra, ‘all you have spoken of does not exist: there is no Devil and no Hell. Your soul will be dead even before your body: therefore fear nothing any more!’
    The man looked up mistrustfully. ‘If you are speaking the truth,’ he said then, ‘I leave nothing when I leave life. I am not much more than an animal which has been taught to dance by blows and starvation.’
    ‘Not so,’