Showing posts with label The Lamplighter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Lamplighter. Show all posts

Saturday 1 August 2020

The Demand of the Neophyte



"The Fifth Planet was very strange. It was the smallest of all. There was just enough room for a street lamp and a street lamp lighter. 

The little prince couldn’t figure out what purpose a street lamp and a lamp lighter would serve, somewhere in the sky on a planet without houses or any people. 

Still, he said to himself: “Perhaps that man really is a bit absurd. But he is less absurd than the king, or the vain man, or the businessman or the drinker. 

At least his work has meaning. When he lights his street lamp, it’s as if he caused one more star to be born, or a flower. 





When he extinguishes his street lamp it causes the star or flower to go to sleep. 

It’s a very charming job. 
It’s truly useful because it is charming.” 

When he approached the planet, he greeted the street lamp lighter respectfully. “Hello. Why did you just put out your street lamp?” 

“It’s the instructions,” the street lamp lighter replied. “Good day.” 

“What are the instructions?” 

“To extinguish my street lamp. Good evening.” 

And he relit the lamp. 

“But why did you just relight it?” 

“It’s the instructions,” answered the street lamp lighter. 

“ I don’t understand,” the little prince said. 

“There’s nothing to understand,” said the street lamp lighter. “The instructions are the instructions. Good day.” 

And he extinguished his street lamp. 
Then he mopped off his face with a red-checkered handkerchief. 

“I have a terrible job. It used to be reasonable. I extinguished in the morning and I lit at night. I had the rest of the day to rest, and the rest of the night to sleep…” 

“And since that time the instructions have changed?” 

“The instructions haven’t changed,” said the street lamp lighter. “That’s the problem! 



The planet has turned faster and faster from year to year, and the instructions haven’t changed!” 

“Well?” said the little prince. 

“Well, now that it makes a full turn in just one minute, I don’t have a second to relax any more. I light and I extinguish each and every minute!” 

“That’s funny! The days here last a minute!” 

“It’s not funny at all,” said the street lamp lighter. “It’s already been a month since we started talking to each other.” 

“A month?” 

“Yes. Thirty minutes—thirty days! Good evening.” 

And he relit his street lamp. 

The little prince watched him and he liked this street lamp lighter who was so faithful to his duty. 

He remembered the sunsets that he himself used to look for by moving his chair. 
 
He wanted to help his friend: “You know…I know a way that you can rest whenever you want to…” 
 
“I always want to,” the street lamp lighter said. 
 
For someone can be, at the same time, both diligent and lazy. 
 
The little prince continued: “Your planet is so little that in fact you can circle it in three big steps. You only have to walk slowly to remain always in the sunshine. When you want to take a break, you should walk…and the day will last as long as you want.” 
 
“That doesn’t improve my situation very much,” said the street lamp lighter. “What I would love to do in life is to sleep.” 
 
“You won’t have a chance,” said the little prince. 
 
“I won’t have a chance,” said the street lamp lighter. “Good day.” 
 
And he extinguished his street lamp. “That one,” the little prince said to himself, while he went on with his journey, “would be looked down upon by The Others, by The King, by The Vain Man, by The Drinker, by The Businessman. 
 
But he is the only one who does not seem ridiculous to me. 
 
Maybe it is because he is concerned with something other than himself.” 
 
He sighed a sigh of regret and went on saying to himself: “That one there is the only one that I would want to have as My Friend. But his planet is really too small. There’s not enough space for two…” 
 
What the little prince didn’t dare to admit to himself was that he missed that blessed planet especially because of the one thousand four hundred forty sunsets it had every twenty four hours!












The Demand of the Neophyte 
(continuation of Comments on Light on the Path)
Lucifer I Vol. 3 November 1887
by author Mabel Collins

“Before The Voice can speak in the presence of The Masters”



Speech is The Power of Communication; the moment of entrance into active life is marked by its attainment.

And now, before I go any further, let me explain a little the way in which the rules written down in “Light on the Path” are arranged. The first seven of those which are numbered are subdivisions of the two first unnumbered rules, those with which I have dealt in the two preceding papers. The numbered rules were simply an effort of mine to make the unnumbered ones more intelligible. “Eight” to “fifteen” of these numbered rules belong this unnumbered rule which is now my text.

As I have said, these rules are written for all disciples, but for none else; they are not of interest to any other persons. Therefore I trust no one else will trouble to read these papers any further. The first two rules, which include the whole of that part of the effort which necessitates the use of the surgeon’s knife, I will enlarge upon further if I am asked to do so.. But the disciple is expected to deal with the snake, his lower self, unaided; to suppress his human passions and emotions by the force of his own will. He can only demand assistance of a Master when this is accomplished, or at all events, partially so. Otherwise the gates and windows of his soul are blurred, and blinded, and darkened, and no knowledge can come to him. I am not, in these pages, purposing to tell a man how to deal with his own soul; I am simply giving, to the disciple, knowledge. That I am not writing, even now, so that all who run may read, is owing to the fact that supernature prevents this by its own immutable laws.

The four rules which I have written down for those in the West who wish to study them, are as I have said, written in the antechamber of every living Brotherhood; I may add more, in the ante-chamber of every living or dead Brotherhood, or Order yet to be formed. When I speak of a Brotherhood or an Order, I do not mean an arbitrary constitution made by scholiasts and intellectualists; I mean an actual fact in supernature, a stage of development towards the absolute God or Good. During this development the disciple encounters harmony, pure knowledge, pure truth, in different degrees and, as he enters these degrees, he finds himself becoming part of what might be roughly described as a layer of human consciousness. He encounters his equals, men of his own selfless character, and with them his association becomes permanent and indissoluble, because founded on a vital likeness of nature. To them he becomes [Page 171] pledged by such vows as need no utterance or framework in ordinary words. This is one aspect of what I mean by a Brotherhood.

If the first rules are conquered the disciple finds himself standing at the threshold. Then if his will is sufficiently resolute his power of speech comes; a twofold power. For, as he advances now, he finds himself entering into a state of blossoming, where every bud that opens throws out its several rays or petals. If he is to exercise his new gift, he must use it in its twofold character. 



He finds in himself The Power to Speak in The Presence of The Masters; in other words, he has the right to demand contact with the divinest element of that state of consciousness into which he has entered. 

But he finds himself compelled, by the nature of his position, to act in two ways at the same time. He cannot send his voice up to the heights where sit the gods till he has penetrated to the deep places where their light shines not at all

He has come within the grip of an Iron Law. If he demands to become a Neophyte, he at once becomes a Servant. 

Yet his service is sublime, if only from the character of those who share it. For The Masters are also Servants; they serve and claim their reward afterwards. 


Part of their service is to let their knowledge touch him; his first act of service is to give some of that knowledge to those who are not yet fit to stand where he stands. 

This is no arbitrary decision, made by any Master or Teacher or any such person, however divine. It is a Law of That Life Which The Disciple Has Entered Upon.

Therefore was it written in the inner doorway of the lodges of the old Egyptian Brotherhood, “The labourer is worthy of his hire”.

“Ask and ye shall have”, sounds like something too easy and simple to be credible. But the disciple cannot “ask” in the mystic sense in which the word is used in this scripture, until he has attained The Power of Helping others.

Why is this? Has the statement too dogmatic a sound?

Is it too dogmatic to say that a man must have foothold before he can spring? The position is the same. If help is given, if work is done, then there is an actual claim — not what we call a personal claim of payment, but the claim of co-nature





The Divine give, They demand that you also shall give before you can be of their kin.


This Law is discovered as soon as The Disciple endeavours to Speak. 
 

For Speech is a Gift which comes only to The Disciple of Power and Knowledge

The Spiritualist enters the psychic-astral world, but he does not find there any certain speech, unless he at once claims it and continues to do so. If he is interested in “phenomena”, or the mere circumstance and accident of astral life, then he enters no direct ray of Thought or Purpose, he merely exists and amuses himself in the astral life as he has existed and amused himself in the physical life. 

Certainly there are one or two simple lessons which the psychic-astral can teach him, just as there are simple lessons which material and intellectual life teach him. 

And these lessons have to be learned; the man who proposes to enter upon The Life of The Disciple without having learned the early and simple lessons must always suffer from his ignorance. They are vital, and have to be studied in a vital manner; experienced through and through, over and over again, so that each part of the nature has been penetrated by them.

To return. In claiming The Power of Speech, as it is called, the Neophyte cries out to the Great One who stands foremost in The Ray of Knowledge on which he has entered, to give him guidance. 
 
When he does this, His Voice is hurled back by The Power he has approached, and echoes down to the deep recesses of human ignorance. 
 
In some confused and blurred manner the news that there is Knowledge and a Beneficent Power Which Teaches, is carried to as many Men as will listen to it. No Disciple can cross The Threshold without communicating this news, and placing it on record in some fashion or other.

He stands horror-struck at the Imperfect and Unprepared manner in which he has done this, and then comes The Desire to Do it Well, and with The Desire thus To Help Others comes The Power. 
 
For it is a Pure Desire, this which comes upon him; he can gain no credit, no glory, no personal reward by fulfilling it. 
 
And therefore he obtains The Power TO Fulfil it.

The History of The Whole Past, so far as we can trace it, shows very plainly that there is neither credit, glory, nor reward to be gained by this first task which is given to the Neophyte. 
 
Mystics have always been sneered at, and seers disbelieved; those who have had The Added Power of Intellect have left for posterity their written record, which to most men appears unmeaning and visionary, even when The Authors have the advantage of Speaking from a Far-off Past. 
 
The Disciple who undertakes The Task, secretly hoping for fame or success, to appear as a Teacher and Apostle before The World, fails even before his task is attempted, and his hidden hypocrisy poisons his own soul, and the souls of those he touches. He is secretly worshipping himself, and this idolatrous practice must bring its own reward.

The Disciple who has The Power of Entrance, and is Strong enough to pass each barrier, will, when The Divine Message comes to His Spirit, forget himself utterly in the new consciousness which falls on him. 
 
If this lofty contact can really rouse him, he becomes as One of The Divine in his desire to Give rather than to Take, in his Wish to Help rather than Be Helped, in His Resolution to Feed The Hungry rather than take manna from Heaven himself. 
 
His Nature is transformed, and The Selfishness Which Prompts Men’s Actions in Ordinary Life suddenly deserts him.


What is The Secret Fire 
that Gandalf Serves?

From: Erik Tracy

Some people are genuinely puzzled over Gandalf's words to the Balrog of Moria when he first warns it:
 
" 'You cannot pass,' he said. The orcs stood still and a silence fell. 'I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the Flame of Anor. You cannot pass. The Dark Fire will not avail you, flame of Udun. Go back to the Shadow. You cannot pass!' "
 
[The Fellowship of the Ring]

Some people have taken this to mean that Gandalf serves his Ring of Fire, Narya. But this is not consistent or appropriate when Gandalf's history is taken as a whole.

I was re-reading the Silmarillion for references to what the "Secret Fire" that Gandalf serves, and I found the following:
 
"He [Melkor] had gone often alone into the void places seeking the Imperishable Flame; for desire grew hot within him to bring into Being things of his own, and it seemed to him that Iluvatar took no thought for the Void, and he was impatient of its emptiness. Yet he found not the Fire, for it is with Iluvatar."
 
[The Silmarillion]

Then later:
 
"Therefore Iluvatar gave to their vision Being, and set it amid the Void, and the Secret Fire was sent to burn at the heart of the World; and it was called Ea."
 
[The Silmarillion]

The Imperishable Flame and the Secret Fire seem to represent the same thing; The Power of Iluvatar to impart actual Being to his thought - The Spirit of Creation, if you will. 
 
It seems fitting that this would be something that Gandalf (as a Maia sent from the West by the Valar) would "Serve" as counterposed to the evil of the Balrog. 
 
In this context, any notion of Gandalf serving the power of his ring Narya is absurd, IMHO (g).

As to what is meant by Gandalf's words "Flame of Udun", I simply infer that this is another word for Balrog. Balrogs are demons of fire, and the word Udun is found as an entry in the glossary of The Silmarillion under "tum":

"Cf. Utumno, Sindarin Udun (Gandalf in Moria named the Balrog 'Flame of Udun'), a name afterwards used of the deep dale in Moria between the Morannon and the Isenmouthe."
And Utumno is of course the first stronghold of Melkor in the North of Middle-earth. Hence, Flame of Udun could be read as Servant of Morgoth or Balrog from Morgoth's Fortress [Udun].
 
Just conjecture, of course.

Sunday 21 October 2018

Involvement


 
"...that idea of The Far-Off Man, way, way out there, but 

What does The Hermit tell us...?

Romana has broken The Cardinal Rule of Gallifrey. 

She has become involved
and in a pretty permanent sort of way. 


The lonelier you are, the more you're joined together with
 everything else. "







(They sit on a small stone bench.)
DOCTOR: 
Have you seen the state of the time column recently? 
Wheezing like a grampus.

ADRIC: 
But it will get us to Gallifrey, won't it? 

DOCTOR: 

Gallifrey? Oh yes, yes. 
Are you really set on going to Gallifrey? 

ADRIC: 
Yes. 

DOCTOR: 

Oh. 

ADRIC: 

That is where we're going, isn't it? 

DOCTOR: 
That's one of the questions I was just pondering. 
There's bound to be an awful lot of fuss about Romana. 
Why she stayed in E-space, official investigations, that sort of thing. 

ADRIC: 
The Time Lords won't approve? 

DOCTOR:
What? She has broken The Cardinal Rule of Gallifrey. 
She has become involved
and in a pretty permanent sort of way. 

I think that you and I should let a few oceans flow under a few bridges before we head back home.


 
"...that idea of The Far-Off Man, way, way out there,  but 

What does The Hermit tell us...?
 
If you try this get as lonely as you can get, 

you become visibly aware which you can't get away from it, 
because when you get very lonely very fast you become extremely thin 
and 
everything that goes on is or now ordinarily unnoticed cum spiritum 
 
First of all, you will find that there is a  Community of Insects.
And they are tremendously interested in You, and not necessarily hostile, in maybe some cases they are so.


But alone in The Forest, when you get really quiet, you'll notice little creatures will come and inspect you look you all over an
they'll go away and tell their friends and they'll come and look to see what it is and you become aware of every single sound and you realize that alone you're in the midst of a vast burning crowd 
it may not be human but it's everything else - 
so that the the point of being, The Discipline leads you to understand that   
You can't Resign


The lonelier you are, the more you're joined together with everything else. "

" Look at it - from another point of view, supposing I say everybody's playing the game Me First  - now, I'm going to play the game You Firstto use the phrase of Bonhoeffer who called Jesus The Man for Others - now, let's see if we could play that game instead of 
Me First

You First 
Or,

"I'm the one see who's so generous I'm the one who's so loving so self-effacing and all you insolent brats ...."  

- Alan Watts

Thursday 16 August 2018

I Resign.




I Resign.



You can't resign — it's physically and ontologically not-possible.


The lonelier you are, the more you're joined together with 
everything else. "
 



 
"...that idea of The Far-Off Man, way, way out there,  but what does The Hermit tell us...?
 
If you try this get as lonely as you can get, you become visibly aware which you can't get away from it, because when you get very lonely very fast you become extremely thin and everything that goes on is or now ordinarily unnoticed cum spiritum 

 
First of all, you will find that there is a  Community of Insects.
And they are tremendously interested in You, and not necessarily hostile, in maybe some cases they are so.



But alone in The Forest, when you get really quiet, you'll notice little creatures will come and inspect you look you all over an
they'll go away and tell their friends and they'll come and look to see what it is and you become aware of every single sound and you realize that alone you're in the midst of a vast burning crowd 

it may not be human but it's everything else - 
so that the the point of being, The Discipline leads you to understand that   
You can't Resign


The lonelier you are, the more you're joined together with everything else. "

" Look at it - from another point of view, supposing I say everybody's playing the game Me First  - now, I'm going to play the game You Firstto use the phrase of Bonhoeffer who called Jesus The Man for Others - now, let's see if we could play that game instead of 
Me First

You First 
Or,

"I'm the one see who's so generous I'm the one who's so loving so self-effacing and all you insolent brats ...."  

- Alan Watts

" This controversial play follows the declining fortunes of a man of extravagant contradictions.  

The fabulously rich Timon believes all his friends to be as open-hearted and generous as himself. When his wealth suddenly evaporates, however, he discovers the truth and his altruism turns to a bitter hatred of mankind. Stirred up by the cynical Apemantus, Timon retreats to the woods where he plots the destruction of Athens, the city that had formerly seemed to embody everything pleasurable and civilized. The cosmic scope of his hatred is communicated in a series of powerful and disturbing dramatic tableaux. 
The Curse :

SCENE I. Without the walls of Athens.


Enter TIMON
TIMON
Let me look back upon thee. O thou wall, That girdlest in those wolves, dive in the earth, And fence not Athens! Matrons, turn incontinent! Obedience fail in children! slaves and fools, Pluck the grave wrinkled senate from the bench, And minister in their steads! to general filths Convert o' the instant, green virginity, Do 't in your parents' eyes! bankrupts, hold fast; Rather than render back, out with your knives, And cut your trusters' throats! bound servants, steal! Large-handed robbers your grave masters are, And pill by law. Maid, to thy master's bed; Thy mistress is o' the brothel! Son of sixteen, pluck the lined crutch from thy old limping sire, With it beat out his brains! Piety, and fear, Religion to the gods, peace, justice, truth, Domestic awe, night-rest, and neighbourhood, Instruction, manners, mysteries, and trades, Degrees, observances, customs, and laws, Decline to your confounding contraries, And let confusion live! Plagues, incident to men, Your potent and infectious fevers heap On Athens, ripe for stroke! Thou cold sciatica, Cripple our senators, that their limbs may halt As lamely as their manners. Lust and liberty Creep in the minds and marrows of our youth, That 'gainst the stream of virtue they may strive, And drown themselves in riot! Itches, blains, Sow all the Athenian bosoms; and their crop Be general leprosy! Breath infect breath, at their society, as their friendship, may merely poison! Nothing I'll bear from thee, But nakedness, thou detestable town! Take thou that too, with multiplying bans! Timon will to the woods; where he shall find The unkindest beast more kinder than mankind. The gods confound--hear me, you good gods all-- The Athenians both within and out that wall! And grant, as Timon grows, his hate may grow To the whole race of mankind, high and low! Amen.

Exit






Colonel: (Graham Chapman) Now, I've noticed a tendency for this program to get rather silly. Now I do my best to keep things moving along, but I'm not having things getting silly. Those last two sketches I did got very silly indeed. And that last one about the beds was even sillier. Now, nobody likes a good laugh more than I do, except perhaps my wife and some of her friends. Oh yes, and Captain Johnson. Come to think of it, most people like a good laugh more than I do, but that's beside the point. Now, let's have a good, clean, healthy outdoor sketch. Get some air into your lungs. Ten, nine, eight and all that...

(Cut to two hermits on a hillside.)

Colonel: Ahhh yes, that's better. Now let's hope this doesn't get silly.

First Hermit: (Michael Palin) Hello, are you a hermit by any chance?

Second Hermit: (Eric Idle) Yes that's right. Are you a hermit?

First Hermit: Yes, I certainly am.

Second Hermit: Well I never. What are you getting away from?

First Hermit: Oh you know, the usual - people, chat, gossip, you know.

Second Hermit: Oh I certainly do, it was the same with me. I mean there comes a time when you realize there's no good frittering your life away in idleness and trivial chit-chat. Where's your cave?

First Hermit: Oh, up the goat track, first on the left.

Second Hermit: Oh they're very nice up there, aren't they?

First Hermit: Yes they are, I've got a beauty.

Second Hermit: A bit drafty though, aren't they?

First Hermit: No, we've had ours insulated.

Second Hermit: Oh yes?

First Hermit: Yes, I used birds nests, moss and oak leaves round the outside.

Second Hermit: Oh, sounds marvellous.

First Hermit: Oh it's a treat, it really is, 'cause otherwise those stone caves can be so grim.

Second Hermit: Yes they really can be, can't they? They really can.

First Hermit: Oh yes.

(Third hermit passes by.)

Third Hermit: Morning Frank.

Second Hermit: Morning Norman. Talking of moss, er you know Mr. Robinson?

First Hermit: With the, er, green loin cloth?

Second Hermit: Er no, that's Mr. Seagrave. Mr. Robinson's the hermit who lodges with Mr. Seagrave.

First Hermit: Oh I see, yes.

Second Hermit: Yes well he's put me onto wattles.

First Hermit: Really?

Second Hermit: Yes. Swears by them. Yes.

(Fourth hermit passes)

Fourth Hermit: Morning Frank.

Second Hermit: Morning Lionel. Well he says that moss tends to fall off the cave walls during cold weather. You know you might get a really bad spell and half the moss drops off the cave wall, leaving you cold.

First Hermit: Oh well, Mr. Robinson's cave's never been exactly nirvana has it?

Second Hermit: Well, quite, that's what I mean. Anyway, Mr. Rogers, he's the, er, hermit...

First Hermit: ... on the end.

Second Hermit: . .. up at the top, yes. Well he tried wattles and he came out in a rash.

First Hemit: Really?

Second Hermit: Yes, and there's me with half a wall wattled, I mean what'll I do?

First Hermit: Well why don't you try birds nests like I've done? Or else, dead bracken.

Fifth Hermit: (calling from a distance) Frank!

Second Hermit: Yes Han?

Fifth Hermit: Can I borrow your goat?

Second Hermit: Er, yes that'll be all right. Oh leave me a pint for breakfast will you? (to first hermit) You see, you know that is the trouble with living half way up a cliff, you feel so cut off. You know it takes me two hours every morning to get out onto the moors, collect my berries, chastise myself, and two hours back in the evening.

First Hermit: Still there's one thing about being a hermit, at least you meet people.

Second Hermit: Oh yes, I wouldn't go back to public relations.

First Hemit: Oh well, bye for now Frank, must toddle.

Colonel: Right, you two hermits, stop that sketch. I think it's silly.

Second Hermit: What?

Colonel: It's silly.

Second Hermit What do you mean, you can't stop it - it's on film.

Colonel: That doesn't make any difference to the viewer at home, does it? Come on, get out. Out. Come on out, all of you. Get off, go on, all of you. Go on, move, move. Go on, get out. Come on, get out, move, move.

(He shoos them and the film crew off the hillside.)



I've 
Resigned.

I Will Not Be Pushed, 
Stamped, 
Filed, 
Indexed, 
Briefed, 
De-Briefed, 
OR 
NUMBERED!!

My Life is My Own.

[ Oh, No it Isn't, Chum.... ]

Zarathustra went down the mountain alone, no one meeting him. 

When he entered the forest, however, there suddenly stood before him an old man, who had left his holy cot to seek roots. 

And thus spake the old man to Zarathustra: “No stranger to me is this wanderer: many years ago passed he by. Zarathustra he was called; but he hath altered. Then thou carriedst thine ashes into the mountains: wilt thou now carry thy fire into the valleys? Fearest thou not the incendiary’s doom? Yea, I recognise Zarathustra. Pure is his eye, and no loathing lurketh about his mouth. Goeth he not along like a dancer? Altered is Zarathustra; a child hath Zarathustra become; an awakened one is Zarathustra: what wilt thou do in the land of the sleepers? As in the sea hast thou lived in solitude, and it hath borne thee up. Alas, wilt thou now go ashore? Alas, wilt thou again drag thy body thyself?” 

Zarathustra answered: “I love mankind.” 

“Why,” said the saint, “did I go into the forest and the desert? Was it not because I loved men far too well? Now I love God: men, I do not love. Man is a thing too imperfect for me. Love to man would be fatal to me.” 

Zarathustra answered: “What spake I of love! I am bringing gifts unto men.” 

“Give them nothing,” said the saint. “Take rather part of their load, and carry it along with them—that will be most agreeable unto them: if only it be agreeable unto thee! If, however, thou wilt give unto them, give them no more than an alms, and let them also beg for it!” 

“No,” replied Zarathustra, “I give no alms. I am not poor enough for that.”

 The saint laughed at Zarathustra, and spake thus: “Then see to it that they accept thy treasures! They are distrustful of anchorites, and do not believe that we come with gifts. The fall of our footsteps ringeth too hollow through their streets. And just as at night, when they are in bed and hear a man abroad long before sunrise, so they ask themselves concerning us: Where goeth the thief? Go not to men, but stay in the forest! Go rather to the animals! Why not be like me—a bear amongst bears, a bird amongst birds?” 

“And what doeth the saint in the forest?” asked Zarathustra. 

The saint answered: “I make hymns and sing them; and in making hymns I laugh and weep and mumble: thus do I praise God. With singing, weeping, laughing, and mumbling do I praise the God who is my God. But what dost thou bring us as a gift?” 

When Zarathustra had heard these words, he bowed to the saint and said: “What should I have to give thee! Let me rather hurry hence lest I take aught away from thee!”

—And thus they parted from one another, the old man and Zarathustra, laughing like schoolboys. 

When Zarathustra was alone, however, he said to his heart: “Could it be possible! This old saint in the forest hath not yet heard of it, that GOD IS DEAD!”