The slaughter of thousands is forgotten for a stubbed toe, and we never noticed the murdered millions. Man is a funny animal which struts like a cock though he’s about to be turned into soup. All the treasures and kingdoms of man are vainglory. I grow tired of this, of words and thought. I long, how I long, to sleep, but rest is far, far away. Though I close my eyes, yea, though I dream, I am wearied by it all. Nothing satisfies, and there is no gain in anything.
Yet I hope that there is life for the righteous.
Tale Told 