Craig Rice and the Art of Living
Reader, the most nihilistic words ever penned belong to Shakespeare: The Tempest (Act 4, scene 1, 148–158). They’re soul-destroyers in every sense. “Our revels now are ended. These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits, and Are melted into air, into thin air: And like the baseless fabric of this vision, The cloud-capp'd tow'rs, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve, And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff As dreams are made on; and our little life Is rounded with a sleep.” Even for those with a metaphysical affiliation, this nihilism has all the ferocity of the KT Extinction Event (which killed off the dinosaurs). As principle, these words are caustic enough; when they engulf a loved one, bitterness, despondency and despair ensue. Was it all for nothing? Is there nothing residual but a handful of dust? In late Novemb