Can you accept that endless failure? asks Nietzsche. More than that, can you embrace it? Can you love it? About a missed rock—sure, Friedrich. About life’s larger disappointments—botched job interviews, bungled parenting, fickle friends—I’m less certain. I can resign myself to their existence, accept them even. But love them? That is asking an awful lot. I’m not there yet. Maybe I never will be, no matter how many times the universe and I repeat. There’s a reason Groundhog Day is a comedy. If we do live the selfsame life over and over again in the selfsame way, forever and ever, then what can
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