“When a baby comes into the world, its hands are clenched, right? Like this?” He made a fist. “Why? Because a baby, not knowing any better, wants to grab everything, to say, ‘The whole world is mine.’ “But when an old person dies, how does he do so? With his hands open. Why? Because he has learned the lesson.” What lesson? I asked. He stretched open his empty fingers. “We can take nothing with us.”
