What do you mean by meant? Given the final futility of our struggle, is the fleeting jolt of meaning that art gives us valuable? Or is it the only value passing time as comfortably as possible?

“I am not much for philosophy, but that old Descartes, he got me thinking. And t…”

“It was not enough to be the last guy she kissed. I wanted to be the last one sh…”

“Because memories fall apart, too. And then you're left with nothing, left not e…”

“You just get caught in being something, to the point where you don’t even know …”