The more I look for meaning, the more it comes down to love. And I think it is no mistake that the worth of this life is so accessible, that anyone may achieve the highest that life has to offer — truly, the best of all living is in love. There is achievement and accomplishment, and I know I have had my share of success, and have tasted that particular of sweetnesses — and yes, there is meaning there, too, I will admit. I imagine some of rarefied airs that exist in the heights of attainment, that they must be heady indeed, if I might extrapolate of the modest elevations I have experienced. And love, it is so common a thing, really; but I must think that I would rather have someone who really loves me over any Nobel Prize. Because it is so everywhere, we may take it for granted, but I think that only speaks to the goodness of our creator. It saves us, and more. The meaning of life is love: it always has been, and it always will be. People only keep asking what it might be because they have so little idea what love is. But ask the man who has no questions of life: I will show you someone who loves someone.