Kurt Vonnegut, 1922-2007

One of my favorite authors, ever since I read Player Piano for a ninth-grade book report and the teacher asked me if I thought the book was too difficult.



When I think about my own death, I don't console myself with the idea that my descendants and my books and all that will live on. Anybody with any sense knows that the whole solar system will go up like a celluloid collar by-and-by. I honestly believe, though, that we are wrong to think that moments go away, never to be seen again. This moment and every moment lasts forever.

From "Reflections on My Own Death," originally published in Rotarian Magazine (1972); republished in Wampeters, Foma, and Granfalloons (1976).

God bless you, Mr. Vonnegut.

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