And then...
God is dead. God remains dead.
And we have killed him.
How shall we, murderers of all murderers, console ourselves?
That which was the holiest and
mightiest of all that the world
has yet possessed has bled to death under our knives.
Who will wipe this blood off us?
With what water could we purify ourselves?
What festivals of atonement,
what sacred games shall we need to invent?
Is not the greatness of this deed too great for us?
Must we not ourselves become gods simply to be worthy of it?
-Nietzsche