“For singing is for the convalescent; the sound ones may talk. And when the sound also want songs, then want they other songs than the convalescent.”

—“O ye wags and barrel-organs, do be silent!” answered Zarathustra, and smiled at his animals. “How well ye know what consolation I devised for myself in seven days!

“That I have to sing once more⁠— that consolation did I devise for myself, and this convalescence: would ye also make another lyre-lay thereof?”

—“Do not talk further,” answered his animals once more; “rather, thou convalescent, prepare for thyself first a lyre, a new lyre!

“For behold, O Zarathustra! For thy new lays there are needed new lyres.