"Looked at sky though smoke heavy with human fat and God was not there. The cold, suffocating dark goes on forever, and we are alone. Live our lives, lacking anything better to do. Devise reason later. Born from oblivion; bear children, hellbound as ourselves, go into oblivion. There is nothing else. Existance is random. Has no pattern save what we imagine after staring at it for too long. no meaning save what we choose to impose. this rudderless world is not shaped by vague metaphysical forces. It is not god who kills children. not fate that butchers them, or destiny that feeds them to dogs. it's us. only us."
--Rorshach, Watchmen (Chapter VI)