164 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, II
And ye tell me, friends, that one cannot quarrel about taste and tasting? But all life is a struggle about taste and tasting!
Taste that is at the same time weight and balance and the weighing one. And alas ! for all living things that would try to live without struggle about weight and balance and weighing ones !
If he would become weary of his augustness, this august one only then his beauty would begin. And not until then shall I taste him and find him tasty.
And not until he turneth away from himself will he jump over his own shadow and lo ! straight into his sun.
. Much too long hath he been sitting in the shadow ; the cheeks of the penitent of spirit grew pale ; he al- most died from hunger because of his expectations.
Contempt is still in his eye ; and loathing is hidden round his mouth. Although he resteth just now, his rest hath not yet lain down in the sun.
He ought to do as doth the bull; and his happiness ought to smell after earth and not after contempt of earth.
I should like to see him as a white bull snorting and roaring and going in front of the plough. And even his roaring should praise all that is earthy.
Dark still is his face ; the shadow of his hand playeth over it. Overshadowed still is the sense of his eye.
�� �
