It has given me pause. I enjoy music, games, books, movies, play, gardening, sport, cooking... so many things. Do I need them all? Most of the time I think of life as a banquet (where most poor suckers are starving) but I'm beginning to think my time too is limited. What do I need to read, or need to do, or what will I never look at again? That extra copy of Hemingway? Junk. The third translation of Dante (or the fourth or the fifth)? Junk. Dostoevsky? Books on Cicero? Why keep all this stuff around? I'm never going to read it. And in the time left I had best get cracking on those things that interest me most.
Wake up call.