“We do not meet death all at once, we move toward it bit by bit. We die every day, for every day some part of life is taken from us. Even when we are still growing, our life is shrinking. We lost our infancy, then childhood, then youth. All our time was lost in the moment of passage, right up to yesterday, and even today is divided with death as it goes by. As the water clock dies not empty out its last drop only but also whatever dripped through before, so our last hour of existence is not the only time we die but just the only time we finish dying.” (Seneca, Letters on Ethics, Letter 24)