Man must die.

At the worst he can but die a little sooner.

I will go with thee across the desert and over the mountains, unless perchance I fall to the ground on the way, my father." He paused awhile, and then went on with one of those strange bursts of rhetorical eloquence that Zulus sometimes indulge in, which to my mind, full though they are of vain repetitions, show that the race is by no means devoid of poetic instinct and of intellectual power.
"What is life?
Tell me, O white men, who are wise, who know the secrets of the world, and of the world of stars, and the world that lies above and around the stars; who flash your words from afar without a voice; tell me, white men, the secret of our life--whither it goes and whence it comes! "You cannot answer me; you know not.

Listen, I will answer.

Out of the dark we came, into the dark we go.