—That I saw and scented in everyone, what was enough of spirit for him, and what was too much !

Their stiff wise men: I call them wise, not stiff⁠—thus did I learn to slur over words.

The gravediggers dig for themselves diseases. Under old rubbish rest bad vapours. One should not stir up the marsh. One should live on mountains.

With blessed nostrils do I again breathe mountain-freedom. Freed at last is my nose from the smell of all human hubbub!

With sharp breezes tickled, as with sparkling wine, sneezeth my soul⁠—sneezeth, and shouteth self-congratulatingly: “Health to thee!”

Thus spake Zarathustra.