Perhaps resist becoming inured....?
(via another Crane)

We make our meek adjustments,
Contented with such random consolations
As the wind deposits
In slithered and too ample pockets.

For we can still love the world, who find
A famished kitten on the step, and know
Recesses for it from the fury of the street,
Or warm torn elbow coverts.
...

Hart Crane, from Chaplinesque
http://www.poets.org....php/prmMID/15441