When you are young so much must be spoken so that you do not explode from all of the ideas inside you. You are learning so much, and the world is so big, and life is uncontainable. As you grow it remains important to speak, since change is not true until you have loosed it upon the world, screaming of all you now know that surely no one else has yet understood. But there is a point where the growths you have long loved and purposed become less about you and more about everything else; such that you no longer can derive meaning from newness. You learn that the greatest toil is waking each day knowing that there is no pull from this or that to accomplish that or this--it is all vapor, as Ecclesiastes says--and deciding that you will craft a fleeting and equally vaporous meaning for yourself for that day. It will not last. It cannot last. But it pleases you for that day, and maybe it keeps you from despair. You have, at least, been given that choice to make.