sore-frightening

Updated: May 4, 2025

Prone, outstretched, trembling, Like him, half dead and cold, whose feet one warm'th And shaken, ah! by unfamiliar fevers, Shivering with sharpened, icy-cold frost-arrows, By thee pursued, my fancy! Ineffable! Recondite! Sore-frightening! Thou huntsman 'hind the cloud-banks!

Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche - Thus Spake Zarathustra : A book for all and none