But, today! There's not the snow of years, but there is cold in the heart. . . . Every God has died. Even the last one, even the small God being jealously kept in one's bosom as the most sacred serpent and the most indestructible friend, even that little Dio [God] without D [io, "I"] . . .
__Giovanni Papini, L'altra metà (1911), Foreword