Tell them in Lacedaimon, passer-by
that here, obedient to their word, we lie.
Simonides of Ceos
Earth! render back from out thy breast
A remnant of our Spartan dead!
Of the three hundred grant but three,
To make a new Thermopylae!
Lord Byron, The Isles of Greece
When the gods have been expelled from the cosmos, the world they have left becomes boring.