Because we do not know when we shall die, we get to think of life as an inexhaustible well. And yet, everything happens only a certain number of times, and a very small number really. . . . How many times will you remember a certain afternoon of your childhood? An afternoon that is 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 times will you watch the full moon rise? Perhaps twenty. And yet it all seems limitless.