And the poets lie too much

'God is a thought that makes crooked all that is straight, and makes turn whatever stands. How? Should time be gone, and all that is impermanent a mere lie? To think this is a dizzy whirl for human bones, and a vomit for the stomach; verily, I call it the turning sickness to conjecture thus. Evil I call it, and misanthropic - all this teaching of the One and the Plenum and the Unmoved and the Sated and the Permanent. All the permanent - that is only a parable. And the poets lie too much.'

- Zarathustra, Upon the Blessed Isles