The lonely artist had made up his mind. Today was the day he would end it all for good. He climbed the tropically wooded hill behind his Tahitian hut, more alone than he had ever been. The famous painter and atheist Paul Gauguin had failed to achieve meaningful success as a painter in his lifetime. He'd abandoned his wife and children, alienated his friends, and headed to Tahiti in search of the authentic life untouched by the poisons of conventionality, greed, and power. Now he had come to the end.

Just days before, he'd completed one last painting, intended as his final testament to the world. He'd described its philosophical ambition to a friend as "comparable to that of the gospel." It was a massive, three-panel work depicting Tahitian women of all life phases. Moving from right to left, it showed the beginning of life in an infant and the end of life in a sad, old woman—and various stages between. In English it was titled: Where do we come from? What are we? Where are we going?

And now, having finished his greatest work, Gauguin walked up the wooded hill and swallowed all the arsenic in the tin. But he ingested too much arsenic, causing him to violently vomit the poison before it could take effect. He managed to find his way back down the hill, and would die a few years later at the age of 54.

But those three questions—Where do we come from? What are we? Where are we going?—didn't come from Gauguin. They came from a Christian leader in France named Bishop Felix Dupanloup who drew from a much larger story than himself. Gauguin had studied under this dynamic Christian leader during most of his teen years. Dupanloup's introduction to Christianity instilled in Gauguin the practice of pondering these basic questions about God, our selves, and others. Dupanloup was convinced that once these three questions get into our hearts and minds they cannot be erased—not completely anyway, particularly in this young student. No matter how far he roamed (or ran) from God—no matter how he tried to shake his past—the passionate bishop's three questions, those he taught as more fundamental than all the others, could not leave the tormented and seemingly unyielding Gauguin. They became the substance of his final testament.