There! Already approacheth eventide; the sun sinketh. Away— my happiness!

Thus spake Zarathustra. And he waited for his misfortune the whole night; but he waited in vain. The night remained clear and calm, and happiness itself came nigher and nigher unto him. Towards morning, however, Zarathustra laughed to his heart, and said mockingly: ‘Happiness runneth after me. That is because I do not run after women. Happiness, however, is a woman.’