"It is not what a language can express but what it must express."
linguist / writer / wanderer
God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed him. How shall we comfort ourselves, the murderers of all murderers? What was holiest and mightiest of all that the world has yet owned has bled to death under our knives: who will wipe this blood off 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? - The Madman
formerly known as iamanexit
Le Chignon
oil on canvas, c.1865-70
I favor the Gonzalès’ paintings that touch the look of a pastel.
