Those thoughts that wander through eternity,
To perish rather, swallowed up and lost
In the wide womb of uncreated night?
Milton (Paradise Lost ii., 146)
“Loose”—by committing suicide.
When the white block of marble shines so solid and so costly, who remembers that it was once made up of decaying shell and rotting bones and millions of dying insect-lives, pressed to ashes ere the rare stone was?
(Chandos).