Status Updates From شور زندگی

He painted, and when he got tired doing that, he went on painting; and when that fatigued him, he painted some more. By that time he would be refreshed and could go back to his painting again.

Then suddenly he realized something he had known for a long time. All this talk about God was childish evasion; desperate lies whispered by a frightened, lonely mortal to himself out in a cold, dark, eternal night. There was no God. Just as simply as that, there was no God. There was only chaos; miserable, suffering, cruel, torturous, blind, endless chaos.