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“Pretty soon there'll be a new kind of murderer, who will kill without any reason at all, just to prove that it doesn't matter, and his accomplishment will be worth no more and no less than Beethoven's last quartets and Boito's Requiem-- churches will fall, Mongolian hordes will piss on the map of the West, idiot kings will burp at bones, nobody'll care and then the earth itself'll disintegrate into atomic dust (as it was in the beginning) and the void still the void won't care, the void'll just go on with that maddening little smile of its that I see everywhere, I look at a tree, a rock, a house, a street, I see that little smile-- That 'secret God-grin' but what a God is this who didn't invent justice?--So they'll light candles and make speeches and the angels rage. Ah but 'I don't know, I don't care, and it doesn't matter' will be the final human prayer.”