The Unbeliever Knows His Koran

We Are In Truth But Pieces On This Chess Board Of Life, Which In The End We Leave, Only To Drop One By One Into The Grave Of Nothingness.

Dead Yesterdays And Unborn Tomorrows, Why Fret About It, If Today Be Sweet.

The Thoughtful Soul To Solitude Retires.

Into This Universe, And Why Not Knowing Nor Whence, Like Water Willy-nilly Flowing; And Out Of It, As Wind Along The Wate, I Know Not Whither, Willy-nilly Blowing.

You've Seen The World, And All You've Seen Is Nothing; And Everything, As Well, That You Have Said And Heard Is Nothing. You've Sprinted Everywhere Between Here And The Horizon; It Is Nothing. And All The Possessions You've Treasured Up At Home Are Nothing.