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This one was an arrow pierced straight through the heart.

Paul Kalanithi was on the trajectory to do many great things in neuroscience and neurosurgery and when his diagnosis of terminal cancer changed that trajectory, he gave the world this book. It is a precious gift and must-read for everyone.

I am deeply moved by his insights into the intersection of life and death and how he points out so clearly that life is not simply about being happy or avoiding suffering because that is, in fact, unavoidable. He teaches us how to meet death without bravado but with honesty and grace.

I cannot aptly sum up this book for it is stunningly written and makes you think deeply on many levels, including challenging my own atheistic stance on life. I love how he describes literature as not only "illuminating" but "the richest material for moral reflection."

His book manages to do that and so much more.
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I really enjoyed this. I thought it would be dry but it was very well written. Back when I fell into my English Lit degree, I loved how studying literature was like a lens through which you could study so much more - philosophy, world history, etc. I loved how the author viewed his study of literature as a lens to explore his other areas of interest. He reads like a really great guy, but also human. He admits faults. He also at times reads a bit arrogant - which, frankly, I think all surgeons should probably be a little bit? But as much as we want to give him the credit, I was especially moved by his wife’s epilogue, which was beautifully composed. I was especially moved as a person who has been in that same position, to sit by the bedside of a precious immediate family member and hold their hand as they pass away. I appreciated his matter of fact he was about it, not too flowery.

This is a ramble. In sum, I loved it.
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This was one of my favorite required readings from high school, and I’m so glad I got around to reading it again. A great reminder to live every day to the fullest, because you never truly know what lies ahead.
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A really beautiful reflection on the meaning of an individual’s life. 
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well damn.

maybe my first autobigraphy?

even after i know that paul is dead, it still hurts so much when it’s stated clearly in the book that he is dead. like the very moment of it. i cried so much that my head hurts.

maybe bcs we are told the process of dying itself by paul himself. the acceptance at first, fully acceptance, than the hope, then the acceptance again that, shit, this would not work, wouldn’t it? and maybe because paul saw it just the way dying is just dying. like no exaggerating and no minimazing. he was like okay, im going to die, how do i maximize and utilitize myself as a person, as a human, as a doctor, as a husband, as myself?

as a reader, it still hurts nonetheless
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