Currently Reading A Man Without a Country By Kurt Vonnegut see related

p.6:

I wanted all
things to seem to
make some sense,
so we could all be
happy, yes, instead
of tense. And I
made up lies, so
they all fit nice,
and I made this
sad world a
paradise.

This book is so wonderful. I have to go back to work now, but I need to reproduce you this last paragraph, which I have just read on page 66:

If I should ever die, God forbid, let this be my epitaph:

THE ONLY PROOF HE NEEDED
FOR THE EXISTENCE OF GOD
WAS MUSIC

I cannot add anything to that, can I?