The Dance with Life — Thus Spoke Zarathustra

Zarathustra speaks to Life as if she were a dancing, teasing woman. He sees gold in her eyes and follows her with frantic feet. She leads him on crooked paths, running away when he comes close, then looking back with sweet mockery. He loves her and fears her at the same time, and would suffer much just to keep the chase alive. He even threatens her with his whip, half in play and half in pain.

Then Life answers. She tells him not to crack his whip so loudly because noise kills thought. They are both rule-breakers who found a green meadow beyond good and evil. She admits she is jealous of his Wisdom and knows he thinks of leaving her, especially when the heavy midnight clock strikes twelve in his cave and he counts the hours toward departure.

He whispers something into her hair that no one else knows. They look at the evening meadow and weep together. Then he realizes Life is dearer to him than all his Wisdom. The chapter ends with the midnight song: pain says go away, but joy wants eternity, deep and forever. Near and far, cold and warm, her mockery and her seeking bind him in one knot.