In the end, I want to have lived a great life.
Ahhh... and that is the stuff that drives men mad because a great life for one, is a waste to another.
And you know, living is, in itself, a wondrous thing. Do we really need to lead armies to victory or discover some hitherto unknown for it to mean anything?
Each of us, as individuals, contribute to the human experience. If we are part of some greater conscientiousness, then each memory, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant, becomes a star light in the night sky.
Humanity is both a singular abstract of illogic and a study in the collective. We can be no less than a free roaming intelligence and no more than part of a greater sum of the same.
In the end, each life may be a contribution to a greater creature that is both one and many.
No matter your life, it is important. No matter your happiness or sadness, it will be part of the great library. No matter how isolated we are in these physical machines, there will be a reunification.
[edit on 8-11-2009 by redoubt]
