What is the meaning of life?  What object is served by this circle of misery and violence and fear? It must tend to some end, or else our universe is ruled by chance, which is unthinkable. But what end? There is the great standing perennial problem to which human reason is as far from an answer as ever. 

"I am the most unpleasant, rude, ignorant and all round obnoxious imbecile that anyone could possibly have the misfortune to meet. I am dismissive of the virtuous, unaware of the beautiful and uncomprehending in the face of the happy...
I am a ridiculous man redeemed only by the warmth and constancy of your friendship."