The question of dying becomes a wise reminder. It cures us of our innocence of the future.

Look at those numbers running. Money makes time. It used to be the other way around. Clock time accelerated the rise of capitalism. People stopped thinking about eternity. They began to concentrate on hours, measurable hours,man-hours, using labor more efficiently.

Dying was just an extended version of Ash Wednesday.

History was not a matter of missing minutes on the tape. I did not stand helpless before it. I hewed to the texture of collected knowledge, took faith from the solid and availing stuff of our experience. Even if we believe that history is a workwheel powered by human blood -- read the speeches of Mussolini -- at least we've known the thing together. A single narrative sweep, not ten thousand wisps of disinformation. (82)

You need to know things the others don't know. It's what no one knows about you that allows you to know yourself.

The modern meaning of life's end-when does it end? How does it end? How should it end? What is the value of life? How do we measure it?

There's a moral force in a sentence when it comes out right. It speaks the writer's will to live.