我的奮鬥

Now everything seems clarified.
Even when I followed Descartes step by step like his shadow, when I understood Kant most intimately like a true friend, when I trusted Hegel with all my heart, when I admired Wittgenstein to the highest extent, when Gadamer became my role model as a philosopher, and when Merleau-Ponty shook me with such violence and tenderness－
I have never been more than a devout disciple of Nietzsche's.

And I had not read Nietzsche for long, except those occasions where one cannot but encounter him, though indirectly. I used to think that I have “overcome” my own “Nietzsche period”.
I was wrong. The inscription he had left on me was so distinct that I could not even recognize it myself anymore. And I suffered from this. For it is not possible to know me without reference to him, for others and for myself alike. I have thus become something unknown.
Yet could it be any easier task to understand Nietzsche？

Were it not so late, my true identity as the overman would await…

如今一切似乎豁然開朗。
即使在我如影隨形地跟著笛卡兒的時候；在我最能與康德會心的時候；在我毫無保留地信賴著黑格爾的時候；在我最崇拜維根斯坦的時候；在高達美成為我心目中哲學家的典範的時候；在梅洛龐帝一次又一次地撼動了我的時候－－
我始終都是尼采的門徒。

但我不讀尼采已經很久了，除非在那些繞不過他的場合裡間接地接觸。我一度以為，我早已「克服」了自己的「尼采時期」。
我錯了。他對我的烙印如此巨大，以至於我的視野甚至不再足以在自己身上認出他完整的名字。我為此而受苦。因為不提及他，我是不可理解的，無論對我本人或其他人都一樣。我變成了一個未知數。
然而尼采自己不也已經是難以理解的嗎？

即使這麼晚了，那作為超人的真正自我依然在等候……