Hugo: "Monsieur Labisse gave me a book the other night."
Isabelle: "He's always doing that, sending books to a good home. That's what he calls it."
Hugo: "He's got real.. (sigh) ..purpose."
Isabelle: "What do you mean?"
Hugo: "Everything has a purpose, even machines. Clocks tell the time and trains take you places. They do what they're meant to do. Like Monsieur Labisse. Maybe that's why broken machines make me so sad. They can't do what they're meant to do. Maybe it's the same with people. If you lose your purpose, it's like you're broken."

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