A great work of art was made once by a man who could not conceive of human worth. He only saw the freedom of spirit and the human as an attempt to constrain this spirits freedom, and he spent his life kicking and screaming against his captivity in human form. His intellect did not agree; period. He was my best friend. He was my 'best' friend -=> the friend to whom I was the best thing in his life - for a period of time when the two of us rebelled against life together.
Now he is rebelling beyond death.