I suggest if there was a love affair, it would place deep in the idea of "means," the understanding that the "means to an end" was an "end in itself." Which most likely is why language includes words like virtue and honor. Those sort of things that cannot actually be defined without a subjectivity so intense it should actually be called disbelief. "Yes," I said, "I told you on Sunday I'm quitting." And I kept the gloves, because the artist has designs upon them. Venerable now, they are, with two hundred and ten hours since fresh from their maker.
Pretty certain that such moments of thought and emotion are rare. They soon pass into dream world as the "happy-happy" and gooey-ness fades. Yet if the "means" were an "end in itself," I'd call it a straight line for certain and so would you. But because these moments of "happy-happy" and gooey-ness are transitory, many are persuaded to look at such a moments as the one I enjoyed at five o'clock this afternoon, and hope again to hand the badge across the counter, on endlessly, everyday until the end of time. So best to let it pass, and by so doing avoid such a circle.