I have a feeling that about 90% of my life has been shaped by my voice, both as an embarrassment and as an advantage. There was always the terrible incongruity of this deep voice barreling out of this little body. Somewhere in the back of my mind I was aware that it was ludicrous, that it took on an importance that wasn't really there.

Radio, which was a much better medium than television will ever be, was easy and pleasant to listen to. Your mind filled automatically with images.

I don't see the future as bright, language-wise. I see it as a glass half empty - and evaporating quickly.

By the time I was in the fourth grade, I sounded exactly like my father on the phone.

Does anything show the complexity of the miraculous brain more than that weird curiosity, the sleep-protection dream?

It's not always easy to identify your own voice. It comes with time.

Teaching is an art and a profession requiring years of training.