Sack the golden towns of Montezuma!
“My dear fellow,” Burlingame said caustically, “we sit on a blind rock careening through space; we are all of us rushing headlong to the grave. Think you the worms will care, when anon they make a meal of you, whether you spent your moment sighing wigless in your chamber, or sacked the golden towns of Montezuma? Lookee, the day’s nigh spent; ’tis gone careening into time forever. Not a tale’s length since we lined our bowels with dinner, and already they growl for more. We are dying men Ebenezer: i’faith, there’s time for nought but bold resolves!”
From: The Sotweed Factor, by John Barth.
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