It can be the mark of what was once great, the bulwark of clutching at what shall fall away, or three phases of loss: Such are the having, forgetting, and embracing of bitterest loves.

There are no creeping monsters atop the spread of hindsight and regret, no eagles molting what should have never been; the first condition is simplest and human conditions are bequests toward none more banal than sin.

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