Death is one moment, and life is so many of them.

The line compresses a stoic, almost arithmetic view of mortality: death, however feared, occupies only an instant, while living consists of innumerable moments that can be endured, squandered, or savored. Read in a Williamsian key, it also suggests a rebuttal to melodramatic fatalism—fixation on the end can eclipse the ongoing, messy succession of experiences that make up a life. The aphorism shifts attention from the singular drama of dying to the cumulative weight of daily instants, implying that meaning is made (and suffering is borne) moment by moment rather than in a final scene.