“Step out of thy cave: the world waiteth for thee as a garden. The wind playeth with heavy fragrance which seeketh for thee; and all brooks would like to run after thee.

“All things long for thee, since thou hast remained alone for seven days⁠—step forth out of thy cave! All things want to be thy physicians!

“Did perhaps a new knowledge come to thee, a bitter, grievous knowledge? Like leavened dough layest thou, thy soul arose and swelled beyond all its bounds.⁠—”

—O mine animals, answered Zarathustra, talk on thus and let me listen! It refresheth me so to hear your talk: where there is talk, there is the world as a garden unto me.

How charming it is that there are words and tones; are not words and tones rainbows and seeming bridges ’twixt the eternally separated?

To each soul belongeth another world; to each soul is every other soul a back-world.