"What does that even mean, Verdant?" Oliver said, exasperated.
"I mean, objectively, there are things that we look to, and draw meaning from, that when the cold scalpel of logic falls upon them, they are nothing. Yet that does not mean that they are meaningless," Verdant said. "Look to the very world that you seek direction from. When you disappear before the sea, and try and find signs written within it for your answers, is that less true for it? Look at it now, as the sun sets, and every line of it is bordered by gold. Look at those sea birds, that war with the waves, and dive so low, tempting the sea spray to fall them from flight. There is meaning written in that, one that a man can draw from, but would you define it as true? If I were to look upon those birds, and find meaning in it to stir my restless heart?"
"But you wouldn't," Oliver snorted. "You're far too logical a man. At times you're almost as logical and cold as Hod is. You aren't as foolish as me to do such things."
