But thy fools’-word injureth me , even when thou art right! And even if Zarathustra’s word were a hundred times justified, thou wouldst ever⁠— do wrong with my word!

Thus spake Zarathustra. Then did he look on the great city and sighed, and was long silent. At last he spake thus:

I loathe also this great city, and not only this fool. Here and there⁠—there is nothing to better, nothing to worsen.

Woe to this great city!⁠—And I would that I already saw the pillar of fire in which it will be consumed!

For such pillars of fire must precede the great noontide. But this hath its time and its own fate.⁠—