I'm trying. I like my Frasier and Friends, all the same. Purpose is not borrowed or decided or concluded or made, for heaven's sake! Purpose is extracted. Tea. Purpose. I deserve Tea. If anybody asked me that what would we achieve with purpose and how could it direct a man - I would say that I don't know, because, as of now, I am still trying.V. What is purpose? Drinking coffee when you wake up and making a habit of drinking coffee only when you wake up? No. Crude word it is, I know. I wish to apprise you of something and let me assure you that it's the most secretive secrets Flexible Jaw Couplings for sale of all - there is hope. If I am not being able to fool you with anecdotes and word-play and poor allegories, I might as well come out in the brave yellow of the constant open sun and feel it vibrate my flesh with humanness. I want to dig because it helps me escape and through the thick, slime of mud and loam, I can see the soft finger of smoldering light trying to rise and touch me. Every country, every city, every town, every alley, every home has a deep corroded, squalid and bacteria-encroached well somewhere on the near outskirts. It is not ambition.
But coffee was always a bad addiction and a favorite. What happened at the football match? Who won the election? What is the solar system? How does the knowledge that the earth revolve around the sun twenty four hours a day, we are made of cells which in turn are made of monosaccharide, Red Sox play better than any other team on the planet, there is a new movie on pay T. Eventually, he might feel bored and after a while of this, he might attempts killing himself which is, of course, the most appropriate thing to do for a man as him. So hard, that many die without even discovering the pit; they die of the pathos, of the patience. And if I said that it's for mankind, it'd be too banal and I would be probably lying or talking in a sphere that I may not include myself in. Some dig longer than others, some try and abandon, some tire and leave, a handful go on. - supply us with anything but entertainment and how can entertainment provide us with anything except illusions? It comforts and eats on vanity. Deep in this staling, chalk-dusted pit, down in a very small weathering corner, there is hope. It is not even about fame. A better invention. But I believe that it, hardly, has anything to do with the world or with humanity or cruelty or man, himself. If we might have tea, we might as well, have purpose.