From Paul Bowles in The Sheltering Sky.
Because we don't know when we will die, we get to think of life as an inexhaustible well. Yet everything happens only a certain number of times, and a very small number, really. How many more times will you remember a certain afternoon of your childhood, some afternoon that's so deeply a part of your being that you can't even conceive of your life without it? Perhaps four or five times more. Perhaps not even that. How many more times will you watch the full moon rise? Perhaps twenty. And yet it all seems limitless.
How many more times will you have to tell someone you really love him or her? How many more comfortable silences, soothing embraces, loving glances will you have between yourself and those you love and who love you? Don't you owe it to them to remove the roadblocks that keep you from truly connecting to them? Who knows how many times you'll hurt those you love because of things that go on in your subconscious that you don't really know about and don't have control over.