"While we are robust and in the prime of life, we imagine our deathbeds, the wisdom we mean to impart, and the precious words, like jewels on a necklace, that we intend to bequeath to those around us.
But it is rarely to be.
We perish quickly on the battlefield, or in an accident, or in a lingering illness that will not announce its schedule for our destruction.
And so our words perish with us, and those left behind are condemned to clutch at memories, at what they imagine we wished to say."
-Margaret George's Helen of Troy.
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