"And there be the chest... and inside, be the gold. We took them all! Spent 'em, traded 'em and fritted 'em away, for drink and food and pleasurable company. But the more we gave them away, the more we came to realize. The drink would not satisfy, food turned to ash in our mouths, nor all the company in the world would harm or slake our lust. We are cursed men. Compelled by greed, we were. But now, we are consumed by it. For too long I've been parched of thirst and unable to quench it. Too long I've been starving to death and haven't died. I feel nothing. Not the wind on my face nor the spray of the sea. Nor the warmth of another person." Thus I ask: If all the mountains were of silver and gold, what would they profit a man who lives in constant fear of death? What profit is there for a man, to gain the whole world but to lose his soul?