/biz/ - Business & Finance

>>19943285
Uh Hello, wealth and freedom department.

How could they bear my happiness if I did not cover my happiness with accidents and miseries of winter and fur hats and snow-sheets? – If I myself did not have pity on their pity: the pity of these envious and injurious people around me! – If I myself didn’t sigh before them, teeth chattering, and patiently allow myself to be wrapped in their pity!
It is the wise mischief and benevolence of my soul; that it Does Not Hide its winter and icey storms; nor does it hide its frostbite.
For one person, loneliness is the escape of the invalid; for another loneliness is the escape From the invalids.
Let them Hear me chattering with winter cold, all these wretched, leering rascals around me! With such sighing and chattering I have escaped their heated rooms.
Let them sympathize and sigh about my frostbite: “He will yet freeze to death on the ice of knowledge!” – so they sigh.
Meanwhile, I run with warm feet, hither and tither on my mount of olives; in the sunny corner of my mount of olives do I sing, and mock all pity.

Thus spoke Zarathustra.

How could they bear my happiness if I did not cover my happiness with accidents and miseries of winter and fur hats and snow-sheets?
– If I myself did not have pity on their pity: the pity of these envious and injurious people around me!
– If I myself didn’t sigh before them, teeth chattering, and patiently allow myself to be wrapped in their pity!
It is the wise mischief and benevolence of my soul; that it does not hide its winter and icey storms; nor does it hide its frostbite.
For one person, loneliness is the escape of the sick; for another loneliness is the escape from the sick.
Let them hear me chattering with winter cold, all these wretched, leering rascals around me! With such sighing and chattering I have escaped their heated rooms.
Let them sympathize and sigh about my frostbite: “He will yet freeze to death on the ice of knowledge!” – so they sigh.
Meanwhile I run with warm feet hither and tither on my mount of olives; in the sunny corner of my mount of olives do I sing and mock all pity.

Thus spoke Zarathustra.