A good roguish thing is also the long silence, and to look, like the winter-sky, out of a clear, round-eyed countenance: Like it to stifle one's sun, and one's inflexible solar will: verily, this art and this winter-roguishness have I learnt WELL! My best-loved wickedness and art is it, that my silence hath learned not to betray itself by silence.

But precisely unto him came the shrewder distrusters and nut-crackers: precisely from him did they fish his best-concealed fish! But the clear, the honest, the transparent these are for me the wisest silent ones: in them, so PROFOUND is the depth that even the clearest water doth not betray it. Thou snow-bearded, silent, winter-sky, thou round-eyed whitehead above me!

The winter-sky, the silent winter-sky, which often stifleth even its sun! Did I perhaps learn from it the long clear silence? Or did it learn it from me? Or hath each of us devised it himself? Of all good things the origin is a thousandfold, all good roguish things spring into existence for joy: how could they always do so for once only!

After a long day's walking, over the hills and vallies, so beautiful beneath our azure winter-sky, walking which was delightful as an expedition, but unsuccessful as to sport, we crossed the track of a large boar. We knew he was old by his being alone, and it was therefore very certain that he would show fight if we came up with him.

Also do I like to tickle him with a wax-taper, that he may finally let the heavens emerge from ashy-grey twilight. For especially wicked am I in the morning: at the early hour when the pail rattleth at the well, and horses neigh warmly in grey lanes: Impatiently do I then wait, that the clear sky may finally dawn for me, the snow-bearded winter-sky, the hoary one, the white-head,