FastSaying

God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed him. Yet his shadow still looms. 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?

Friedrich Nietzsche

Friedrich Nietzsche

BloodCleanComfortDeadDeathGodHimHisHowKnivesOffOurOurselvesOwnedRemainsShadowShallStillUsWaterWhoWillWipeWorld

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