Are we not perpetually falling? Backward, sideward, forward, in all directions?
Is there any up or down left? Are we not straying as through an infinite nothing? Do we not feel the breath of empty space? Has it not become colder? Is it not more and more night coming on all the time? Must not lanterns be lit in the morning? Do we not hear anything yet of the noise of the gravediggers who are burying God? Do we not smell anything yet of Gods decomposition? Gods too decompose. God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed him.
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