Mom said, "His spirit is there," and that made me really angry. I told her, "Dad didn't have a spirit! He had cells!" "His memory is there." "His memory is here," I said, pointing at my head. "Dad had a spirit," she said, like she was rewinding a bit in our conversation. I told her, "He had cells, and now they're on rooftops, and in the river, and in the lungs of millions of people around New York, who breathe him every time they speak!

Is that growing old? Or is it something worse?

I didn't feel empty. I wished I'd felt empty. ... I wanted to be empty like an overturned pitcher. But I was full like a stone.

Why didn't I learn to treat everything like it was the last time. My greatest regret was how much I believed in the future.

She wanted more, more slang, more figures of speech, the bee's knees, the cats pajamas, horse of a different color, dog-tired, she wanted to talk like she was born here, like she never came from anywhere else

Do you have any coffee?'...'It stunts my growth, and I'm afraid of death.

Compassion is a muscle that gets stronger with use, and the regular exercise of choosing kindness over cruelty would change us.