Ég vitna í Hýru Vísindi Nietzsche.
Gods putrefy! God is dead! God remains dead!
And we have killed him! How shall we console
ourselves, the most murderous of all murderers?
The holiest and the mightiest that the world has
hitherto possessed, has bled to death under our
knife - who will wipe the blood from us? With
what water could we cleanse ourselves? What
lustrums, what sacred games shall we have to
devise? Is not the magnitude of this deed too
great for us? Shall we not ourselves have to
become Gods, merely to seem worthy of it?
Alltaf gaman að segja guð er dauður :)
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