As corpses they thought to live; in black draped they their corpses; even in their talk do I still feel the evil flavour of charnel-houses.
And he who liveth nigh unto them liveth nigh unto black pools, wherein the toad singeth his song with sweet gravity.
Better songs would they have to sing, for me to believe in their Saviour: more like saved ones would his disciples have to appear unto me!
Naked, would I like to see them: for beauty alone should preach penitence. But whom would that disguised affliction convince!
Verily, their Saviours themselves came not from freedom and freedom’s seventh heaven! Verily, they themselves never trod the carpets of knowledge!
Of defects did the spirit of those Saviours consist; but into every defect had they put their illusion, their stop-gap, which they called God.
In their pity was their spirit drowned; and when they swelled and o’erswelled with pity, there always floated to the surface a great folly.
Eagerly and with shouts drove they their flock over their foot-bridge; as if there were but one foot-bridge to the future! Verily, those shepherds also were still of the flock!
Small spirits and spacious souls had those shepherds: but, my brethren, what small domains have even the most spacious souls hitherto been!
Characters of blood did they write on the way they went, and their folly taught that truth is proved by blood.