"His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead."
James Joyce, Dubliners - The Dead
He hung himself with a rope made out of poor wishes and small cravings. It was only when he jumped that he realized, he would never die this way. He would live falling, losing and being tortured in a chain-reaction of hopes and wishes giving up, time after time and turn after turn.
But the life is so full of this small, tedious things that the rope tied around his neck can stretch forever.