There is a point when grief exceeds the human capacity to emote, and as a result one is strangely composed-

There are moments as a teacher when I'm conscious that I'm trotting out the same exact phrase my professor used with me years ago. It's an eerie feeling, as if my old mentor is not just in the room, but in my shoes, using me as his mouthpiece.

Though I am fascinated by knowledge, I am even more fascinated by wisdom.

She felt the familiar calmness of an emergency, but she understood the falseness of that feeling, now that it was her life at stake.

You are an instrument of God. Don't leave the instrument sitting in its case, my son. Play! Leave no part of your instrument unexplored. Why settle for 'Three Blind Mice' when you can can play the 'Gloria'? No, not Bach's 'Gloria.' Yours! Your 'Gloria' lives within you. The greatest sin is not finding it, ignoring what God made possible in you.

Your job is to preserve yourself, not to descend into their hole. It's a relief when you arrive at this place, the point of absurdity, because then you are free, you owe them nothing.

He was teaching me how to die, just as he'd taught me how to live.