from James Salter, The Hunters (1956)

Perhaps it was true that through defeat men were made, and that victors actually lost, with every triumph, the vital strength that found exercise only in recovering strength. Perhaps the spirit grew greater in achieving the understanding that was first confused and then exquisitely clear after having lost. But that was, Cleve thought, like saying it was strengthening to be poor. It wasn't, he was sure. It was sapping. It was like having a leech's mouth on your breast, forever draining, so that everything had to be sacrificed for nothing more than sustaining the burden of flesh. There were very few men who ever surmounted poverty; and there were very few losers, he felt, who realized anything but tears from their defeats.

crowning his life

from  James Salter, A Sport and a Pastime

They lie on their sides. The clock is ticking. The metal of the heater cracks like glass. Downstairs the Corsicans are talking. Their passionate voices echo through the stairwell. The street door closes.

"Wait a minute," he whispers.

She is on top of him.

"I don't have anything."

"It's alright," she says.

"Are you sure?"

She is struggling. He is in agony.

"Anne-Marie?"

"Si!" she insists. He half releases her, half guides.

It begins slowly, his hands on her waist. It seems he is crowning his life.