Martin Teague : Sir? If you don’t mind my asking… why a box?
Arlington Steward : Your home is a box. Your car is a box on wheels. You drive to work in it. You drive home in it. You sit in your home, staring into a box. It erodes your soul, while the box that is your body inevitably withers… then dies. Whereupon it is placed in the ultimate box, to slowly decompose.
Martin Teague : It’s quite depressing, if you think of it that way.
Arlington Steward : Don’t think of it that way… think of it as a temporary state of being.