Then you know that those of significance last. Nothing eternal, but certainly, nearer to it than our flesh and blood. A hundred years from now, amid some tedious nightmare in which her teeth hatch to spiders, a dreamer may instead stumble upon some moment of your companionship, and the spirit that saw it worth preserving. Devotion, perhaps. Love.

[ and that spirit absolutely cannot be trusted. but that's a different lecture. ]

We don't know how long any of us get. We do know that it matters.