It is not the work of a day to squeeze them out.
And so, for us, the human-like driver and guide being gone, all existence, as we look out at it with our chilled, wondering eyes, is an aimless rise and swell of shifting waters.

In all that weltering chaos we can see no spot so large as a man's hand on which we may plant our foot.
Whether a man believes in a human-like God or no is a small thing.
Whether he looks into the mental and physical world and sees no relation between cause and effect, no order, but a blind chance sporting, this is the mightiest fact that can be recorded in any spiritual existence.

It were almost a mercy to cut his throat, if indeed he does not do it for himself.
We, however, do not cut our throats.

To do so would imply some desire and feeling, and we have no desire and no feeling; we are only cold.

We do not wish to live, and we do not wish to die.