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“In the movies she had loved growing up, death always came in one of two ways - with an atonal breath and then a panicked, desperate grab for the last vestiges of life, or with a deep, peaceful exhalation followed by a contented sigh. Either way, the act of dying was a remarkable moment that commanded the attention of all those in proximity. But Sam had learned the truth about death in vet school: it wasn't special at all. It wasn't even an event. Death was only the failure of life. It crept into the vacuum created when you couldn't beg, cajole, or push life out any further. This was why death always eventually won; the act of fostering life requires constant diligence and we tire or get distracted far too easily.” — Neil Abramson
In the movies she had loved growing up, death always came in one of two ways - with an atonal breath and then a panicked, desperate grab for the last vestiges of life, or with a deep, peaceful exhalation followed by a contented sigh. Either way, the act of dying was a remarkable moment that commanded the attention of all those in proximity. But Sam had learned the truth about death in vet school: it wasn't special at all. It wasn't even an event. Death was only the failure of life. It crept into the vacuum created when you couldn't beg, cajole, or push life out any further. This was why death always eventually won; the act of fostering life requires constant diligence and we tire or get distracted far too easily.