God is indeed dead. He died of self-horror when He saw the creature He had made in His own image.
To this pass Christianity has come There is no God, and Jesus is his son.
Time flames like a paraffin stove / and what burns are the minutes I live.
Whom the gods do not intend to destroy, they first make mad with poetry.
Since I no longer expect anything from mankind except madness, meanness, and mendacity; egotism, cowardice, and self-delusion, I have stopped being a misanthrope.
By walking, I found out where I was going.