steamed up on roughness and leisure i come to thee with an open arms come to Aristotle he shall cleanse your tomfoolery of idealism what do you need for it? it is the earth your attributions create the substance as you walk on and he shall be right come to Plato he shall bind your way into your soul for your soul is the essence of your eyes my dear companion, what happens to your body without the mind? it turns to machine, said Descartes but what happens to the mind without the body? it becomes a mystery and horror, said Poe you shall descend from heaven to the world for there is no hell and we currently reside in it said Nietzsche hence, God is dead. humanity lives for the love of it and the goal of it though creating and searching for purpose like the tale of sisyphus finding meaning i the absurdity anyway i bet how haughtlily smug camus would be there are no inherent meaning in life and we go on to create our own alone, said Sartre my dear companion, what happens to life ...