what is a good existence?

time shall reclaim what it has given. How shall I spend these fleeting days? What shall I make ? Something to prove the magnitude of my intellect? or to seek riches and fame? Shall I craft a text richly studded with the glories of another world, whose sight alone fills the mind with golden light? I might be fulfilled with making dreams of making. My time has just begun, but it is almost out. To wit, to wake, to wander. Choice is the only thing standing in our way.