Now rageth my hammer ruthlessly against its prison. From the stone fly the fragments: what’s that to me? I will complete it: for a shadow came unto me—the stillest and lightest of all things once came unto me! The beauty of the Superman came unto me as a shadow. Ah, my brethren! Of what account now are—the Gods to me!— Thus spake Zarathustra. XXV. THE PITIFUL. My friends, there hath arisen a satire on your friend: “Behold Zarathustra! Walketh he not amongst us as if amongst animals?” But it is better said in this wise: “The discerning one walketh amongst men AS amongst animals.” Man himself is to the discerning one: the animal with red cheeks. How hath that happened unto him? Is it not because he hath had to be ashamed too oft? O my friends! Thus speaketh the discerning one: shame, shame, shame—that is the history of man! And on that account doth the noble one enjoin upon himself not to abash: bashfulness doth he enjoin on himself in presence of all sufferers. Verily, I like them not, the merciful ones, whose bliss is in their pity: too destitute are they of bashfulness. If I must be pitiful, I dislike to be called so; and if I be so, it is preferably at a distance. Preferably also do I shroud my head, and flee, before being recognised: and thus do I bid you do, my friends! May my destiny ever lead unafflicted ones like you across my path, and those with whom I MAY have hope and repast and honey in common! Verily, I have done this and that for the afflicted: but something better did I always seem to do when I had learned to enjoy myself better. Since humanity came into being, man hath enjoyed himself too little: that alone, my brethren, is our original sin! And when we learn better to enjoy ourselves, then do we unlearn best to give pain unto others, and to contrive pain. Therefore do I wash the hand that hath helped the sufferer; therefore do I wipe also my soul. For in seeing the sufferer suffering—thereof was I ashamed on account of his shame; and in helping him, sorely did I wound his pride. Great obligations do not make grateful, but revengeful; and when a small kindness is not forgotten, it becometh a gnawing worm. “Be shy in accepting! Distinguish by accepting!”—thus do I advise those who have naught to bestow. I, however, am a bestower: willingly do I bestow as friend to friends. Strangers, however, and the poor, may pluck for themselves the fruit from my tree: thus doth it cause less shame. Beggars, however, one should entirely do away with! Verily, it annoyeth one to give unto them, and it annoyeth one not to give unto them. And likewise sinners and bad consciences! Believe me, my friends: the sting of conscience teacheth one to sting. The worst things, however, are the petty thoughts. Verily, better to have done evilly than to have thought pettily! To be sure, ye say: “The delight in petty evils spareth one many a great evil deed.” But here one should not wish to be sparing.