When Jonathan (the seagull) came, it was well after dark, and he floated in moonlight on the surface of the ocean. His wings were ragged bars of lead, but the weight of failure was even heavier on his back. He wished, feebly, that the weight would be just enough to drag him gently down to the bottom, and end it all. But soon he came back to normal. He pushed wearily away from the dark water and flew towards the land, grateful for what  he had learned about work-saving low-altitude flying.

The lesson that he had learnt that day was about

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