What is the verdict of the vastest mind?
Silence: the book of fate is closed to us.
Man is a stranger to his own research;
He knows not whence he comes, nor whither goes.
Tormented atoms in a bed of mud,
Devoured by death, a mockery of fate.
But thinking atoms, whose far-seeing eyes,
Guided by thought, have measured the faint stars,
Our being mingles with the infinite;
Ourselves we never see, or come to know.
This world, this theatre of pride and wrong,
Swarms with sick fools who talk of happiness.
This frail construction of quick nerves and bones
Cannot sustain the shock of elements;
This temporary blend of blood and dust
Was put together only to dissolve;

from Voltaire’s “Poem on the Lisbon Disaster”, used in the dance piece “Dark Matters”, choreographed by Crystal Pite and performed by Kidd Pivot (via cricketrahne)

Love love love this poem and Kidd Pivot’s performance. Read the full poem here: http://oll.libertyfund.org/?option=com_staticxt&staticfile=show.php%3Ftitle=349&chapter=28298&layout=html&Itemid=27