Oh dear, I'm sounding somewhat Irish.
Isn't life a gas?
Isn't life something of a romp that appears to have no driver?
What are we, if we're not holding the reigns of our own lives?
Will I understand everything before I die?
Is there anything to understand?
Is life just one big question?
I think, therefore I am? (Descartes)
I sheep, therefore I am a sheep. (Monsieur Mouton)
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