THE CONVALESCENT ONE 319
A cave became the human earth for me, its chest fell in, all that liveth became unto me mould of men and bones and a rotten past.
My sighing sat on all human graves and could no longer get up ; my sighing and questioning cried like a toad and choked and gnawed and complained by day and night :
'Alas, man recurreth eternally! The small man recurreth eternally ! '
Once I had seen both naked, the greatest man and the smallest man all-too-like unto each other all- to6-human even the greatest man !
All-too-small the greatest one ! That was my satiety of man ! And eternal recurrence even of the smallest one ! That was my satiety of all existence.
Alas ! loathing ! loathing ! loathing ! " thus spake Zarathustra and sighed and shuddered ; for he re- membered his illness. But his animals would not allow him to speak further.
" Speak not further, thou convalescent one ! " thus his animals answered. "But go out where the world waiteth for thee like a garden.
Go out unto the roses and bees and flocks of doves ! But especially unto the singing birds, that thou may- est learn singing from them !
For singing is good for the convalescent ; the healthy one may speak. And when the healthy one
�� �
