The angel asks me, "What may I do for you at this juncture of your existence?"
I want to milk this divine offer. So, I contemplate a while so as to conjure up the optimum request. Then, I consult the phrase I had carefully calligraphed a recent enough while ago that it should still be fresh and germane. I clear my phrenic passages and think:
"I want to discover undying precepts of my very own. I want, then, to define and articulate these ruminations by dint of my incontrovertible finesse as a usageaster. I want to apply these precepts, which should infuse me with strength and vigour, with sagacity whenever beneficial."
The benign seraph says benevolently, "Will do, Mihir. Stand by for fulfillment of your wish. Nicely composed request too, by the way, if I may."