*Stolen from a poem. I recommend stealing from poems, and paintings, and music, and any other thing that might light any kind of spark or joy or comfort or recognition. Which recommendation I also stole.
But everyone does forget that Icarus also flew? That every life, however it fails, whoever it fails, whatever fails it, is more defined by the reaching than the falling?
I refuse to despair that life is suffering. I just won't do it. Life is suffering, and life is a one shot only chance to strap on our very own pair of shonky, homemade, bound-to-fail wings and just for a minute, one tiny little fraction of a spectacular minute, go soaring out toward the sun. You might not think it's worth it. I sure as hell most certainly do.