My name is from the Joyce novel, Dubliners. It comes from the last sentence--
His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead.
To me, it's breathtakingly beautiful, and exemplifies both the fragility as well as the pervasive anonymity of life--how life mimics that of snow, coming to it's end, fluttering with barely a sound, before embracing it's impossible insignificance on a pavement or the flickering sign of a bodega; soon it will melt with inexorable spring. It's also a momento mori of sorts--everything, no matter how static or inanimate, reaches it's eventual 'death', a veritable swansong of life, bearing this reminder 'upon all the living and the dead.'
I know it's objectionable to romanticize death in such a manner, but it's the only way to alleviate my pain, as well as cling on to vestiges of instinctual hope. Even if death does not pan out this way, I will still feel serene in my final moments knowing that the world there are still many committed, no matter their successes, in making life that much more liveable.