Ayn Rand postulated that independence, as well as happiness, was mankind's most exalting goal. Her intention was to describe the pain caused by rendering your dreams onto the fickleness of others' potential.
What pain, then, is greater than for a budding explorer to sprain his ankle - albeit, moderately - and have a doctor tell him that his foot will never fully be the same?
It seems to me that the more one loves life, the more one comes to hate it. For it is then that we become dependent on an ephemeral vision; a vision to move, unrestrained, through our time here on earth. A vision that, in the end, is as reliable as we, ourselves, feel free to make it.