A Yellow Rose by Borges sheds light from a different angle. Simultaneously, while writing my comment “The self is not fixed,” I was thinking a contrary thought to the notion that death impels us to greater action. While I am constantly aware of the brief span of time I will be here, which does prod me to produce, I am likewise conscious of this story by Jorge Luis Borges… a very brief account which would now be classified Flash Ficiton.
This was actually the first story I ever read by this writer and have been hooked ever since. You can find his story here in my blog post which serves as an intro to the piece.
In a nutshell, there seems to be a point in which real nearness to death, impending death, renders everything meaningless.