Friedrich Nietzsche, Daybreak:  Reflections on Moral Prejudice. Morgenröte: Gedanken über die moralischen Vorurteile (also could be translated as The Dawn).

Written and published in 1881.

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We have accustomed ourselves to believe in two kingdoms: the realm of purposes and will and the realm of chance.  In this latter realm everything is done senselessly there is a continual going to and fro without anyone being able to say why or wherefore.  We stand in awe of this powerful realm of the great cosmic stupidity for in most instances we come to know it when it falls down on the other world, that of aim and purpose like a slate from a roof striking down some beautiful purpose of ours.  This belief in these two kingdoms arises from ancient romanticism and legend: we clever dwarfs with all our will and purposes are interfered with, knocked down and very often crushed to death by those ultra—stupid giants, chance accidents—but in spite of this we should not like to be deprived of the fearful poetry of their proximity for these monsters very often make their appearance when life in the spider's web of definite aims has become too tiresome or too anxious for us and they sometimes bring about a divine diversion when their hands for once tear the whole web in pieces—not that these irrational beings ever intend to do what they do or even notice when they had done so.  Yet their coarse and bony hands rend our web as if it were thin air.  Moira was the name given by the Greeks to this realm of the incalculable and of sublime and eternal narrow-mindedness; and they set it round their gods like an horizon beyond which they could neither see nor act—with that secret defiance of the gods which one meets with in different nations: the gods are worshipped but a final trump card is held in readiness to play against them.  As instances of this we may recollect that the Indians and the Persians who conceived all their gods as having to depend upon the sacrifices of mortals so that if it came to the worst the mortals could at least let the gods die of starvation; or the gods of the stubborn and melancholy Scandinavians who enjoyed a quiet revenge in the thought that a twilight of the gods was to come as some compensation for the perpetual fear which their evil gods caused them.  The case of Christianity was very different for its essential feelings were not those of the Indians, Persians, Greeks or Scandinavians.  Christianity commanded its disciples to worship the spirit of power in the dust and to kiss the very dust.  It gave the world to understand that this omnipotent "realm of stupidity" was not so stupid as it seemed and that we on the contrary were stupid when we could not perceive that behind this realm stood God Himself: He who although fond of dark crooked and wonderful ways at last brought everything to a "glorious end".  This new myth of god who had to date been mistaken for a race of giants or Moira and who was now Himself the spinner and weaver of webs and purposes even more subtle than those of our own intellect – so subtle indeed that they appear to be incomprehensible and even unreasonable:—this myth was so bold a transformation and so daring a paradox that the over-refined ancient world could not resist it however extravagant and contradictory the thing seemed: for let it be said in confidence there was a contradiction in it—if our intellect cannot divine the understanding and purposes of God how did it divine this quality of its understanding and this quality of God's understanding?  In more modern times indeed the doubt has increased as to whether the slate that falls from the roof is really thrown by "Divine love" and mankind again harks back to the old romance of giants and dwarfs.  Let us learn then, for it is time we did so, that even in our supposed separate realm of purpose and reason the giants likewise rule.  And our purposes and reason are not dwarfs but giants.  And our own webs are just as often and as clumsily rent by ourselves as by the slate.  And not everything is purpose that is called purpose and still less is everything will that is called will.  And if you come to the conclusion "Then there is only one realm: that of stupidity and hazard?  " it must be added that possibly there is only one realm; possibly there is neither will nor purpose and we may only have imagined these things.  Those iron hands of necessity that shake the dice box of chance continue their game indefinitely: hence it must happen that certain throws perfectly resemble every degree of purpose and rationality.  It may be that our own voluntary acts and purposes are merely such throws and that we are too limited and vain to conceive our extremely circumscribed state!  that we ourselves shake the dice box with iron hands and do nothing in our most deliberate actions but play the game of necessity.  Perhaps!  To rise beyond this "perhaps "we should need to already have been guests in the Underworld playing at dice and betting with **Proserpine** at the table of the goddess herself.  
 

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