Mortality is something that all living people are confined by. Mortality confines us; we must play by her rules or we will perish. When we bend her meaning, she strikes back will little hesitation. We are simply the puppets of her game.
When I read Apples and Franky (link at bottom) brings an interesting idea to light, being that the best things in life sit upon the boarder of refinement and rot. I feel that this truth is almost universal - certainly when applied to the ethics of Dr. Frankenstein. The good doctor is merely completing the work of another professional that couldn't carry out his work. Dr. Frankenstein literally uses rotting flesh to build his masterpiece, but at what cost?
He fundamentally disobeys mortality's confinement; he plays God. His hours, days, and years spent not only constructing his piece, but studying about his craft have been in vain. His work has completely wasted away in his hands, and he has little to show for it. The normal procedure of sickness, dying and ultimate death, and has taken been evaded.To spite mortality is to spite mankind's role in the universe. Without the possibility of death, life is less meaningful.
Without meaning.
We have?
Our purpose?
Link to post used : The-sweetest-things-in-life-sit-atop
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