In this chapter, Zarathustra presents a discourse on the nature and complexities of friendship. He delves into the relationship between the self and others, examining the roles of solitude, intimacy, and opposition within friendships.

He begins by referencing the thoughts of a hermit who finds that even one companion is too many, as solitude is preferred. The hermit muses that “I and Me” are always in eager conversation, suggesting an introspective dialogue that occupies the solitary individual. However, Zarathustra acknowledges that a friend serves as a crucial third party—the “cork” that prevents the conversation between “I and Me” from sinking into the depths.

For the solitary the friend is always the third one: the third one is the cork that prevents
the conversation of the two from sinking into the depths.

He reflects on the deep yearning hermits have for friendship due to their numerous inner “depths”. The longing for a friend reveals one’s aspirations and what one wishes to believe about oneself. Zarathustra notes that sometimes love is sought to overcome envy, and enmity is embraced to conceal one’s vulnerabilities. He asserts that to have a friend, one must be willing to fight for them, and to engage in such conflict, one must be capable of enmity. Honoring the adversarial aspect within a friend is essential; one should be able to approach a friend closely without overstepping boundaries. The best friend is also one’s best enemy, and resistance can bring hearts closer.

He discusses the concept of authenticity in friendships, questioning whether one should present oneself without any guise. While it might seem honorable to reveal oneself entirely to a friend, such complete openness may provoke discomfort or even animosity.

Emphasizing the inspirational role a friend should play, he advises presenting oneself attractively to be “an arrow and a longing for the Übermensch” to one’s friend.

Addressing women, Zarathustra remarks that historically, both a slave and a tyrant have been hidden within them, making them incapable of friendship—they know only love. He characterizes women’s love as containing injustice and blindness toward all they do not love, with elements of unpredictability and darkness alongside enlightenment. He likens women to cats, birds, or, at best, cows, suggesting an inherent inconsistency or limitation in their capacity for friendship.

Turning back to men, he questions who among them is truly capable of friendship, criticizing their spiritual poverty and stinginess. Zarathustra declares that the amount men offer to their friends he would give even to his enemies without feeling diminished. He distinguishes between mere comradeship and genuine friendship, expressing a wish for the latter’s realization.