""Art is the proper task of life". "
— Friedrich Nietzsche

"'How can the mind be so imperfect?' she says with a smile.

I look at my hands. Bathed in the moonlight, they seem like statues, proportioned to no purpose.

'It may well be imperfect,' I say, 'but it leaves traces. And we can follow those traces, like footsteps in the snow.'

'Where do the lead?'

'To oneself,' I answer. 'That's where the mind is. Without the mind, nothing leads anywhere.'

I look up. The winter moon is brilliant, over the Town, above the Wall.

'Not one thing is your fault,' I comfort her.
"
— Haruki Murakami