Nothing in life is certain except death, taxes and the second law

“Nothing in life is certain except death, taxes, and the second law of thermodynamics.” — Seth Lloyd

These words, though born in an age of science, carry the weight of ancient truth. The physicist Seth Lloyd, in jest yet in wisdom, unites the eternal and the modern: death, the end that awaits all; taxes, the worldly burden none may escape; and the second law of thermodynamics, that stern decree of nature declaring that all things tend toward disorder, decay, and entropy. In this trinity of certainty, he reveals the unchanging rhythm of existence — that from the mightiest star to the humblest heart, all things are bound by the same law of impermanence.

When the ancients spoke of fate, of destiny, of the wheel of time that turns all kings to dust, they were speaking in another language of what science now names entropy. The second law of thermodynamics proclaims that energy disperses, that order yields to chaos, that all systems — whether a universe, a city, or a soul — drift toward decline unless effort renews them. It is the scientific echo of the old truth: that to live is to struggle against decay, to build while knowing all shall one day crumble.

Lloyd’s words are not spoken to sadden, but to awaken. For when we accept that nothing is certain but death and decline, we begin to understand the sacredness of every moment. We are not given eternity, but we are given now. The inevitability of entropy does not mean that meaning is lost; rather, it gives meaning to our defiance. The flame is precious because it will fade. The act of creation becomes heroic precisely because the universe itself tends toward silence.

Consider the tale of the Library of Alexandria, that magnificent temple of knowledge. Built with human brilliance, it gathered the wisdom of centuries — but fire and time erased it. Yet though the scrolls turned to ash, the spirit that built it endured. For in the centuries that followed, others rose to preserve and rebuild the light of learning. This is the human answer to the second law: we may not halt entropy, but we may oppose it — through courage, through curiosity, through the unyielding act of renewal.

And so we see that even as death claims the body, and taxes claim the fruits of labor, and entropy claims all things, still there remains the will of the soul — that mysterious force that refuses to surrender. The ancients called it virtue, or spirit, or logos. It is the flame that burns against the cold of the cosmos. When man builds, when he loves, when he seeks knowledge or beauty, he creates a small order within the great chaos. He becomes, for a moment, a co-creator with the divine.

The lesson, then, is not despair, but purpose. Since decay is certain, build anyway. Since time erodes all things, cherish them while they live. Since energy scatters, focus yours upon what matters most. Every act of kindness, every work of art, every word of wisdom is a spark kindled in defiance of entropy. It may not last forever, but it will have burned brightly — and that is enough.

Thus let us remember Seth Lloyd’s words not as cynicism, but as commandment. Know that death is coming, so live with meaning. Know that taxes bind you to the world, so contribute with integrity. Know that entropy reigns, yet rebel against it through creation. For the glory of life is not found in certainty, but in the dance with impermanence — in choosing to sing, to build, and to love even as the stars grow cold.