"Never regret thy fall, O Icarus of the fearless flight For the greatest tragedy of them all Is never to feel the burning light."

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Although, I admit, I desire, Occasionally, some backtalk From the mute sky, I can't honestly complain: A certain minor light may still Lean incandescent Out of kitchen table or chair As if a celestial burning took Possession of the most obtuse objects now and then --

— Sylvia Plath