"They say that all the world's a stage, and that all stallions and mares are merely players. If that is so, who then is the stage director? Where is the script?
Ponies are born, and in the blink of an eye, they grow old and feeble; in-between they discover their virtue and calling, mayhaps through a Cutie Mark, find love, discover friendship, and blunder through life with both woe and fortune on their tails. Yet all the while, they are left without a explanation as to why they are even here.
'Why am I here?', 'What is my purpose?', 'What role do I play in the grand scheme of things?' Countless priests and philosophers had spent years pondering these questions, and yet all and any answer we have conjecture this far come close to giving a satisfying answer. Most likely, then, there never will be one, because we are all here by cosmic happenstance, and there is no rhyme and meaning to it, save perhaps whatever meaning that we are free to create for ourselves.
Perhaps a better analogy would be that life is less of a theatrical play in the traditional sense, and more of an 'improv' that modern ponies are so fond of; we are all actors, shuffled onto a darkened stage without given a script or seeing a stage director, and just when the anticipation becomes unbearable, the curtains pull up to reveal the crowd. We are left with only a single directive: 'Give them a show, any show, and good luck.'"
--- Princess Luna, philosophising on life in the context of a theatrical play.