"Thus Spoke Zarathustia"
God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed Him. How shall we comfort ourselves, the murderers of all murderers? Who will wipe the blood off of us? What water is there for us to clean ourselves?
What festivals of atonement, what sacred games shall we have to invent? Is not the greatness of this deed too great for us? Must we ourselves not become gods simply to appear worthy of it?
Cogitatione et Memoria
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