Since fame is an illusion and death is in our future all we have is the next moment before we are swallowed into oblivion.

A few names have survived oblivion. In time, oblivion will have them all.

All men must die.

Our stock in trade is raw, flailing sex.

I looked over at Augustus Waters, who looked back at me. You could almost see through his eyes they were so blue. "There will come a time," I said, "when all of us are dead. All of us. There will come a time when there are no human beings remaining to remember that anyone ever existed for that our species ever did anything. There will be no one left to remember Aristotle or Cleopatra, let alone you.

Much as oblivion is the death of sorrow
So death is life's forgetfulness