Put it in with the law of unintended consequences, and shove it back in the closet with the rest of the cliches. In my extended family, the most significant fallout from the Schiavo case is a sudden rise in the number of requests that I (not) involve myself in the deaths of loved ones.
This is not meant to be callous towards Ms. Schiavo, whose experiences have been an unmitigated tragedy. Rather, this is a bit of cinema verite -- a glipse into the unguarded way that we talk about the end of life. Some of the respondents are Democrats of the FDR school. Some were Republicans before being Republican was cool. Some are very religious; others, not so much. And one comment actually predates the Schiavo affair -- yes, I know, it's hard to believe that people could be thinking about such things without the involvement of the U.S. Congress.
"If I ever get like that, take me out to the barn and shoot me."
[Wife to husband:] "I'll give you six months, tops, before I pull the plug."
[Husband's response:] "Well, maybe give me a year."
[Wife:] "No, six months."
"I wouldn't want to live like that."
"I can't believe this is anyone's business but the family's."
"Let me die if I get like that."
[Husband to parents:] "Don't you dare intervene when she [wife] decides the pull the plug."
"When it gets to be my time, I'll get my pills and wash them down with a shot of whiskey."
(All from memory.)