But to live mechanised and cut off within the motion of the will, to live as an entity absolved from the unknown, that is shameful and ignominious.
There is no ignominy in death.

There is complete ignominy in an unreplenished, mechanised life.

Life indeed may be ignominious, shameful to the soul.

But death is never a shame.

Death itself, like the illimitable space, is beyond our sullying.
Tomorrow was Monday.