The German begins to have an eerie abstract sympathy with the force and fear he describes, as distinct from their objective.
The German is no longer sympathising with the boy against the goblin, but rather with the goblin against the boy.

There goes with it, as always goes with idolatry, a dehumanised seriousness; the men of the forest are already building upon a mountain the empty throne of the Superman.

Now it is just at this point that I for one, and most men who love truth as well as tales, begin to lose interest.

I am all for "going out into the world to seek my fortune," but I do not want to find it--and find it is only being chained for ever among the frozen figures of the Sieges Allees.

I do not want to be an idolator, still less an idol.