Zero #3
I am your labyrinth…
— Nietzsche-Dionysus, Dionysus-Dithyrambs
TIME is unleashed in the “death” of the One whose eternity gave Being an immutable foundation.
— Georges Bataille, Visions of Excess
Dogs, vaguely sick from having so long licked the fingers of their masters, howl themselves to death in the countryside, in the middle of the night. These frightening howls are answered — as thunder is answered by the racket or rain — by cries so extreme that one cannot even talk of them without excitement.
— Georges Bataille, Visions of Excess
For any ardent materialism truth is madness.
— Nick Land, The Thirst for Annihilation
Inorganic matter is the maternal breast. To be released from life is once again to become true; it is to perfect oneself. Whoever understands this would consider the return to insansate dust as a celebration.
— Charles Andler, Nietzsche, sa vie et sa pensée, vol. 6
To grant perception also to the inorganic world; an absolutely precise perception — the reign of ‘truth’! — Uncertainty and illusion start with the organic world … Loss of all specialization: synthethetic nature is superior nature. But all organic life is already a specialization. The inorganic world found behind it represents the greatest synthesis of forces; for this reason, it seems worthy of the greatest respect. In the inorganic, error and limitations of perspective do not exist.
— Friedrich Nietzsche, Posthumous Works
Death is truth because error cannot adhere to it, all dreams are soluble within it, but death is not the word ‘death’, or any other word. The zero of words is not the word ‘zero’, nor are words about words.
— Nick Land, The Thirst for Annihilation
Deciption is the foundation; it is the final truth of life.
— Georges Bataille, Guilty
The possible is organic life and its development in a favorable setting. The impossible is the final death, the necessity of destruction for existence.
— Georges Bataille, The Unfinished System of Nonknowledge
[T]he sun, the human eye flees it … God’s skull bursts … and no one hears.
— Georges Bataille, Inner Experience
[T]he sun is nothing but death.
— Georges Bataille, Œuvres complètes, tome III
Living in order to be able to die, suffering to enjoy, enjoying to suffer, speaking to say nothing. No is the middle term of consciousness that has as its end point — or as the negation of its end — the passion for not knowing.
— Georges Bataille, The Unfinished System of Nonknowledge
I understand something very definite by ‘free-thinking’: it requires that one [be] a hundred times [superior] to philosophers and other disciples of ‘the truth’ in severity towards one’s self, in integrity, in courage and in one’s absolute will to say no even when it is dangerous to say no.
— Friedrich Nietzsche, The Will to Power
[D]eath is child’s play?
— Georges Bataille, On Nietzsche
Our entire life is burdened with death…. But, in me, definitive death has the sense of a strange victory. It bathes me with its glow, it opens in me an infinitely joyous laughter: that of disappearance!
— Georges Bataille, The Tears of Eros
I
The Intensity of Death
Only intensity matters. (qtd. in The Thirst for Annihilation 108)
Eroticism is the edge of the abyss. I lean over senseless horror (the moment when the ocular globe rolls back in its orbit). The abyss is the foundation of the possible. Mad laughter or ecstasy brings us to the edge of the same abyss, “interrogating” everything that is possible. This is the point of rupture, of letting everything go, the anticipation of death. (Guilty 97)
Violent urges, too violent. I refuse to hold myself back … But I don’t let myself go either. Not knowing who I am, I stop at nothing. I have the audacity of driftwood. At any moment, my heart opens, the blood flows, and, slowly, with a grimace, death comes in. (Guilty 50; emphasis added)
II
There is nothing except…
Bataille tells us, “there is nothing / except / the impossible / and not God” (qtd. in The Thirst for Annihilation v).
Bataille tells us, “poetry is the impossible” (qtd. in The Thirst for Annihilation 196).
There is nothing
except
poetry
and not God
III
The Godly Demon of the Eternal Return
I’m thrown around by the plucking of the bass guitar string,
My head bops side to side, it is trying to decapitate itself.
Headless one BE MY GOD!
The Acephale is the death of God…
This is why I am ferociously religious:
The death of God is nothing less than the pipes of death bursting,
Bursting because they are full of the liquid that is death.
The pipes screws go lose:
Madness!
Unable to be held back by divine providence,
Death breaks free from the cage of Being —
I supplicate to Thou ‘o dead God!
Bring me nothing less than your eternal annihilation!
Noch Einmal!
I supplicate to Thou ‘o dead God!
Give me your head!
Noch Einmal!
‘O dead God!
Give me nothing less than your corpse bloodied on the asphalt ground!
Dionysian waves of sound take me beyond my supplication —
For, I no longer know how to be —
there is no longer I
— no longer is ‘there is’ there.
No longer is there begging to a rotting corpse (even if it is divine)!
Let me take a bite of this corspe.
Let my teeth sink into this bloody cadaver,
Whose blood tastes like wine…
Wine?
DIONYSUS!
I want to sleep,
I want to return to the world of dreams and demons.
But demons haunt me from the darkness while I’m awake!
Only a priest would say that sleep is nothing but the rest of the soul!
Sleep is full of horror, I tell you!
One becomes horrified of falling asleep!
Just thinking about the demons puts me at the edge of tears!
push
The EXPENDITURE of the duct—
A tear drops
— plop.
The floor upon which the tear strikes like artillery fire shatters.
How can ‘I am’ seriously be spoken?
Don't you know we are all just fictions?
Don’t you know we are just the plaything of desire?
Libido is an energy that doesn’t just flow through my psyche,
For there is no psyche.
There is no psyche because there is no consciousness.
The unconscious is nothing more than Tohu wa-bohu,
Except, this time, God does not hover above the waters —
plop
— God’s corpse is being eaten by the beasts of the deep, cosmic waters.
The undisturbed darkness of the waters of the Nothing is now disturbed:
God’s white bones float in the waters, but what’s this?
The bones are being eaten by the acidic waters of the deep,
For, with TIME, the immutable mutates incessantly!
Divine permutations
Subwoofers are sub-woofers — woofing creatures from underground.
Howling dogs from Hell,
Their howls cause me to cover my ears.
Blood leaks out of them like drool falls out of the side of the mouth.
The sounds of the hi-hats,
They are the sounds of the explosions taking place within me.
The vibrations of the sub-woofers shatter me into fragments —
The earth individuated me by way of its mechanic vibrations,
But Hell? It is more lacerating…
Breaking me down to my organs, and then them down into tissues,
And so on, and so on —
I am completely decomposed:
Zero
Truth is madness?
Then all I know is truth!
Death is truth?
Then I am truth!
IV
Dionysus’ Labyrinth
I travel deeper into the maze.
The minotaur?
Oh, I saw his bones a few miles up…
Ariadne’s thread?
Oh, it was cut a few miles up next to the minotaur’s corpse…
No wonder Ariadne was lamenting to Dionysus…[1]
I walk like a drunk man —
Hitting my head on walls,
Tripping,
I am truly dazed from multiple days in this maze of misfortune
— I know not what to do… I know not… know not…
Nonknowledge exits the labyrinth!
Dionysus is there laughing at the convulsion of men on the floor —
Drunk laughter and slurring of speech is all I can hear
— he surely must be mad.
Dionysus’ laughter is my madness…
Dionysus is present at the negation of the principium individuationis.
Dionysus is ecstasy.
Dionysus is the conclusive decomposition found in laughter.
Dionysus is dance.
Dionysus is music.
Dionysus is the death of God…
V
Joy Before Death
“I abandon myself to peace, to the point of annihilation.” “The noises of struggle are lost in death, as rivers are lost in the sea, as stars burst in the night. The strength of combat is fulfilled in the silence of all action. I enter into peace as I enter into a dark unknown. I fall in this dark unknown. I myself become this dark unknown.” “I AM joy before death. Joy before death carries me. Joy before death hurls me down. Joy before death annihilates me.” “I remain in this annihilation and, from there, I picture nature as a play of forces expressed in multiplied and incessant agony.” “I slowly lose myself in unintelligible and bottomless space. I reach the depths of worlds. I am devoured by death. I am devoured by fever. I am absorbed in somber space. I am annihilated in joy before death.” (Visions of Excess 237)
VI
Death
The sun, situated at the bottom of the sky like a cadaver at the bottom of a pit, answers this inhuman cry with the spectral attraction of decomposition. Immense nature breaks its chains and collapses into the limitless void. A severed penis, soft and bloody, is substituted for the habitual order of things. In its folds, where painful jaws still bite, pus, spittle, and larva accumulate, deposited by enormous flies: fecal like the eye painted at the bottom of a vase, this Sun, now borrowing its brilliance from death, has buried existence in the stench of the night. (Visions of Excess 84)
What is death for Bataille? What shall we make of it? This is our question. But there will be no answers…
Death throws us out of existence. (Visions of Excess 171)
I am thrown out of existence by a great whirlwind of forces:
“Thus in the death of God, whose whirlwind tears everything from the past, we find once again this ‘nostalgia for a lost world’ which so painfully riveted the eyes of Nietzsche on Greece in the tragic era” (Visions of Excess 218).
To imagine oneself effaced, abolished by death, missing from the universe … On the contrary, if I continue to exist, with me the crowd of the dead, the universe would grow old, all of these dead would leave a bad taste in its mouth. (Inner Experience 27)
Death is the lubricant of the mechanics of this libidinal universe,
Pulsions pushing me towards death, towards zero!
A bad taste? Death solves that issue!
The gears keep turning because of death!
The gears keep turning because I have been abolished.
The I is nothing less than a pin waiting to get stuck in the gears,
Waiting to interrupt the solar flow…
[D]eath washes us, then washes these others without end. (Inner Experience 27)
Like the waves which wash up against the shore
Death too washes.
The difference?
The waves wash us out of it (IT INCESSANTLY JERKS OFF!).
Death washes us away…
Death is finally the most luxurious form of life … it is dishonorable (a lack of intellectual virility) to turn away from the luxurious truth of death: there is no doubt that death is the youth of the world … how could we not be aware that death, and death alone, constantly ensures the renewal of life? … [life] is the tumultuous movement that bursts forth and consumes itself. Its perpetual explosion is possible on one condition: that the spent organisms give way to new ones, which enter the dance with new forces … The growth of plants presupposes the amassing of decayed substances. Plat-eaters consume tons of living (plant) substance before a small amount of meat allows a carnivore its great releases, its great nervous expenditures … The movement of human life even tends toward anguish, as the sign of expenditures that are finally excessive, that go beyond what we can bear. Everything within us demands that death lay waste to us … life is the luxury of which death is the highest degree. (The History of Eroticism 84–86)
The ocean of death is much more than an expression…
Death crashes upon life, pulling life back into the dark waters that it is.
As the wave that is death crashes back after its recession,
The shells that we are released back onto the shore,
With this release, we proclaim,
“What has no place in the world of things, what is unreal in the real world is not exactly death. Death actually discloses the imposture of reality, not only in that the absence of duration gives the lie to it, but above all because death is the great affirmed, the wonder-struck cry of life. The real order does not so much reject the negation of life that is death as it rejects the affirmation of intimate life, whose measureless violence is a danger to the stability of things, an affirmation that is fully revealed only in death” (Theory of Religion 46–47).
With this proclamation, we are only fooled,
For intimate life is only find in the negation that is death:
[T]he total affirmation of violence is its own negation. (The Unfinished System of Nonknowledge 238)
Foolish laughter becomes divine tragedy as death comes back to negate us:
[The real order] cannot prevent life’s disappearance in death from revealing the invisible brilliance of life that is not a thing. (Theory of Religion 47)
In this respect, the luxury of death is regarded by us in the same way as that of sexuality, first as a negation of ourselves, then – in a sudden reversal – as the profound truth of that movement of which life is the manifestation. (Consumption 34–35)
This is also why there is no contradiction in our anti-humanism in the light of that quote we went of in Zero #2 and noted above (pages 84–86 of The History of Eroticism) in which Bataille sees death as the youth of things. There is no contradiction because death is zero, it is the negation of life, but it is also what everything comes from, which is still not one, but zero. No one denies this, not even Land:
Zero is indivisible, so that zero belief cannot be rigorously differentiated from belief in zero. It is in this sense that atheism is a religion. Not that atheism is committed to a specific conviction, quite the opposite; it is precisely the specificity of conviction that it attacks. Understood negatively it denies the false absolute of theos, but understood positively it affirms the true absolute marked by the ‘privative’ a-; the nihil from which creation proceeds, the undifferentiable cosmic zero. (The Thirst for Annihilation 89–90)
So, death is nothing less than the negation of life for life? Of course not!
Bataille may have said, “Beings only die to be born, in the manner of phalluses that leave bodies in order to enter them” (Visions of Excess 7). But, let us not forget that he said, “Living in order to be able to die, suffering to enjoy, enjoying to suffer, speaking to say nothing” (The Unfinished System of Nonknowledge 196).
Bataille ultimately escapes any occidental conception of death, or at least what Baudrillard sees as an occidental conception of death in Symbolic Exchange and Death. Bataille sees that life cannot escape death, for death is always in me, death links everything together:
What links existence to everything else is death: whoever looks at death ceases belonging to a room, to friends and family, gives himself to the free play of heaven. (Guilty 40)
In fact death is nothing in immanence, but because it is nothing, a being is never truly separated from it. Because death has no meaning, because there is no difference between it and life, and there us no fear of it or defense against it, it invades everything without giving rise to any resistance. (Theory of Religion 45)
Could one will their own death? Of course not! Suicide is an inanity! Don’t kill yourself! Wait for matter to do that for you:
“The will is the negation of death” (Guilty 68). Our existence seemingly expels death, we sure as Hell wish that it did. But, base matter denies our wishes: “Matter exists, insofar as it dissolves a man and, through rot, exposes he absence” (Guilty 102). Thus, death cannot be negated…
Also, let us not forget that “[a] region exists where death means not only disappearance but also the intolerable feeling of disappearing against our will” (Eroticism 267).
But what about eroticism? What does death have to do with it? Everything:
The final sense of eroticism is death. (Eroticism 144)
What I have been saying enables us to grasp in those words the unity of the domain of eroticism open to us through a conscious refusal to limit ourselves within our individual personalities. Eroticism opens the way to death. Death opens the way to the denial of our lives. Without doing violence to our inner selves, we are able to bear a negation that carries us to the farthest bounds of possibility? (Eroticism 24)
I see a demon at the end of the hallway:
The self in no way matters. For a reader, I am any being whatsoever: name, identity, history change nothing. He (the reader) is anyone and I (author) am anyone. Nameless, he and I came out of … nameless, so that … nameless as are two grains of sand in the desert, or rather two waves lost in neighboring waves in the sea. The … without name to which belongs the “known personality” of the world of the etc., to which it belongs so totally that it is not aware of it. Oh death infinitely blessed without which a “personality” would belong to the world of the etc. Misery of lying men, disputing to death the possibilities of the world of the etc. Joy of the dying, waves among waves. Inert joy of the dying, of the desert, fall into the impossible, cry without resonance, silence of a fatal accident. (Inner Experience 56; emphasis added)
Was I mistaken? The demon is no longer there… I must be seeing things:
Death quenches my thirst for non-knowledge. (Inner Experience 113)
Death quenches my thirst for annihilation!
Just thinking about the demons startles me…
So much has been said, yet I’ve said nothing.
Who am I
not “me” no no
but the desert the night the immensity
that I am
what are
desert immensity night beast
quick nothingness without return
and without having known anything
Death
answer
sponge streaming with solar
dreams
sink into me
that I no longer know anything
but these tears. (Inner Experience 162)
I don’t want more, I moan
I cannot suffer more
My prison.
I say this
Bitterly:
Words that suffocate me,
Leave me,
Release me,
I am thirsty
For something else.
I want death
Don’t admit
This reign of words,
Enchaining
Without dread
Such that dread
Should be desirable;
It’s nothing,
This self that I am,
If not
Cowardly acceptance
Of what is.
I hate this instrumental life,
I seek a crack,
My crack,
To be shattered.
I love the rain
Lightning
Mud
A vast expanse of water
The depths of the earth
But not me.
In the depths of the earth,
O my tomb,
Deliever me from myself,
I no longer want to be. (Inner Experience 61–62)
At this moment, what I love is death. (Guilty 147)
VII
‘O dead God
Ghost in tears
o dead God
hollow eye
damp moustache
single tooth
o death God
o dead God
Me
I hounded you
with hatred
unfathomable
and I would die of hatred
as a cloud
is undone. (Inner Experience 105)
I rely on God to deny himself, to loath himself, to throw what he dares, what he is, into absence, into death. When I am God, I negate him right to the depths of negation. If am only me, I am not aware of him. To the extent that there subsists in me clear consciousness, I name him without knowing him: I am not aware of him. I try to know of him: immediately thereafter, I become non-knowledge, I become God, unknown, unknowable ignorance. (Inner Experience 132)
God incessantly dies:
For when I am God,
He dies;
But, when I am not God,
I try to know of him,
And because I do not know God,
I enter into nonknowledge,
And thus, I become God.
Becoming God again,
God is negated.
I am always God in my ignorance:
This is why God is dead,
Why God incessantly dies…
Absence of thunder
Eternal expanse of crying waters
And me a smiling fly
And me a severed hand
I drenched my sheets
And was the past
Blind dead star
Yellow dog
There
Horror
Screaming like an egg
And vomiting my heart
Absent a hand
I’m screaming
I’m screaming to the heavens that
I’m not screaming
In this lacerating thunderstorm
I’m not dying
The starry sky is
The starry sky screams
The starry sky cries
I fall asleep
And the world is forgotten
Bury me in the sun
Bury my loves
Bury my wife
Naked in the sun
Bury my kisses
And my white drool. (Guilty 98–99)
Quoting Bataille ad nauseam makes me nauseous…
I vomit in a sickness that pushes me down.
Collapsing on the floor,
Death enters in.
The organic matter that is my body is corroded by death,
Like acid,
I am eaten away by death.
With a burp and belch,
I am gone.
Dionysus walks into the room,
Laughing, he says,
“It seems this boy couldn’t find his way out of the labyrinth!”
The minotaur’s ghost is crying,[2]
Dionysus grabs his solar sponge he stole from Apollo,[3]
With a divine kindness,
He wipes away the minotaur’s tears.
Dionysus, exiting the room, chuckles once more.
Bad music makes my ears want to vomit…
No wait, that isn’t right.
What I meant to say is that bad music makes my ears vomit.
The stress which comes from the thought of failure makes me sick.
Stress is a disease that does nothing less than grab me by the neck.
Its grip is suffocating,
Its grip gets tighter with horror.
Horror makes me want to vomit,
As the inside of my throat is corroded by black acid.
Confusion sends me into the labyrinth of myself,
And thus, confusion sends me into the arms of Dionysus.
Ethereal voices,
Sleepy tones,
In the corner of my eye,
I see the lightning of the sky.
Like the crack of a smooth surface,
The Night erupts in laughter:
Zero
The vibrations of thunder bring me out of zero…
I want nothing.
Desire nothing.
The Nothing dances across the night sky.
The violence of the street light’s illuminations causes my eyes to strain.
The lighting strikes down once more,
The street light is overtaken by the Night’s laughter.
Shivers are sent up my spine by ethereal voices
My legs are freezing,
Hot air rises.
My legs throw me outside into the horrifying darkness of the Night.
Rain hits my feet.
The hairs of my legs catch rain.
Drenched, I beg for warmth
The Cold laughs at me.
The moon’s luminous violence lacerates me.
The Sun’s vengeance is exacted by the moon.
The Night
CCX
210 = The Nothing[4]
Abrahamic tradition under nihilistic direction might not be what anyone wants, but it’s what we have. Accelerating iconoclasm turns the world onto The Nothing. Nietzsche was right to interpret the only global history as this. There is no way out of it because it is itself the ultimate outside. The Nothing repels belief, not only psychologically, but more fundamentally. Even those who would make it their cause cannot do so. Thus it mocks us, without malice. Nothing (alone) is sacred. We can only wreathe it — always inappropriately — in mad hubbub. In this way it is apparently entertained. (“Esoteric Nihilism”)
The Nothing
The Sacred
Zero
Zero is immense. (The Thirst for Annihilation v)
0
The Death of God
We must acknowledge that at the basis of Bataille’s “philosophy” is the death of God: “There is not an impossible if God exists” (The Unfinished System of Nonknowledge 18).
Thus, we atheologians must do nothing less than develop atheology. We must incessantly assert the non-assertion that God is dead. This is why Nietzsche is with us.
But is not Nietzsche an “affirmationist”? How shall we reconcile this with zero?
Bataille, in his essay “Nietzsche’s laughter,” says, “The most striking thing in Nietzsche’s life is that he renounced Schopenhauer’s philosophy at the moment when sickness justified its pessimism in his particular existence. He said no to life while it was easy: but yes when it took the form of the impossible” (The Unfinished System of Nonknowledge 22).
Thus, Bataille does not see that we are to affirm the possible but affirm the impossible. For if we affirmed the possible, we would be negating the impossible. Now, if we affirm the impossible, we are negating the possible. This revelation reveals the folly of the affirmationist” one can only negate, or be negated. The affirmation found in intimate, that is, sacred life is only found in the negation of profane life that is death. One can only truly affirm through the negation that is death. The affirmationist interpretation of Nietzsche articulates him as having an aversion to nothingness. And they are quite right. But reject nothingness? Would Nietzsche be on the side of transcendece?
What Nietzsche’s aversion, or rather, what his horror of the Nothing reveals is his love of it. Repulsion leads to attraction (this is the truth of the Phaedra complex).
Amor fati is the love of the impossible.
Death is the impossible.
For Nietzsche, with the death of God, nihilism arises. He says,
The greatest recent event — that “God is dead,” that the belief in the Christian god has become unbelievable — is already beginning to cast its first shadows over Europe … The event itself is far too great, too distant, too remote from the multitude’s capacity for comprehension even for the tidings of it to be thought of as having arrived as yet. Much less may one suppose that many people know as yet what this event really means — and how much must collapse now that this faith has been undermined because it was built upon this faith, propped up by it, grown into it; for example, the whole of our European morality. (The Gay Science 279)
Yet Nietzsche described this great moment of nihilism as a moment of freedom:
Indeed, we philosophers and “free spirits” feel, when we hear the news that “the old god is dead,” as if a new dawn shone on us; our heart overflows with gratitude, amazement, premonitions, expectation. At long last the horizon appears free to us, again, even if it should not be bright; at long last our ships may venture out again, venture out to face any danger; all the daring of the lover of knowledge is permitted again; the sea, our sea, lies open again; perhaps there has never been such an “open sea.” (The Gay Science 280)
Lover of knowledge? But is God, for Bataille, not the possibility of knowledge?
What the love of God finally rises to is really the death of God. (Eroticism 141)
The death of God is zero
Life will dissolve itself in death, rivers into the sea, the known into the unknown. Knowledge is the access to the unknown. Nonsense is the outcome of every possible sense.
— Georges Bataille, Inner Experience
Notes
[1]: See the section “Ariadne's Lament” in Nietzsche’s Dionysus-Dithyrambs.
[2]: “Ghost in tears” (Inner Experience 105).
[3]: “sponge streaming with solar dreams sink into me that I no loner know anything but these tears” (Inner Experience 162).
[4]: See “The Nothing = 210” on Nick Land’s newsletter here.
Works Cited
Bataille, Georges. Eroticism. Translated by Mary Dalwood, Penguin Classics, 2012.
— — — . Guilty. Translated by Stuart Kendall, State University of New York, 2011.
— — — . Inner Experience. Translated by Stuart Kendall, State University of New York Press, 2014.
— — — . On Nietzsche. Translated by Stuart Kendall, State University of New York Press, 2015.
— — — . The Accursed Share: An Essay in General Economy, Volume I: Consumption. Translated by Robert Hurley, Zone Books, 1991.
— — — . The Accursed Share: An Essay in General Economy, Volume II: The History of Eroticism, Volume III: Sovereignty. Translated by Robert Hurley, Zone Books, 1991.
— — — . The Tears of Eros. Translated by Peter Connor, City Lights Books, 1989.
— — — . The Unfinished System of Nonknowledge. Edited by Stuart Kendall, translated by Michelle Kendall and Stuart Kendall, University of Minnesota Press, 2001.
— — — . Theory of Religion. Translated by Robert Hurley, Zone Books, 1989.
— — — . Visions of Excess: Selected Writings, 1927–1939. Edited by Allan Stoekl, translated by Donald M. Leslie, Jr., Carl R. Lovitt, and Allan Stoekl, University of Minnesota Press, 1985.
Land, Nick. “Esoteric Nihilism: Ways to The Nothing.” Zero Philosophy. Substack, 31 October 2020, https://zerophilosophy.substack.com/p/esoteric-nihilism.
— — — . The Thirst for Annihilation: Georges Bataille and Virulent Nihilism (an Essay in Atheistic Religion). Routledge, 1992.
Nietzsche, Friedrich. “Dionysus-Dithyrambs.” The Nietzsche Channel. http://www.thenietzschechannel.com/works-pub/dd/dd.htm
— — — . The Gay Science; With a Prelude in Rhymes, and an Appendix of Songs. Translated by Walter Kaufmann, Vintage Books, 1974.
— — — .The Will to Power: Selections from the Notebooks of the 1880s. Edited by R. Kevin Hill. Translated by R. Kevin Hill and Michael A. Scarpitti. New York: Penguin Classics, 2017.
