He never spoke of that night again, not to your mother, not to anyone else. He was ashamed for her, for Mickey, for himself. In the hospital, he stopped speaking altogether. Silence was his escape, but silence is rarely a refuge. His thoughts still haunted him.' ~pg 139

As long as we can love each other, and remember the feeling of love we had, we can die without ever really going away.

How do people choose their final words? Do they realize their gravity? Are they fated to be wise?

Silence was his escape, but silence is rarely a refuge.

Invest in the human family. Invest in people. Build a little community of those you love and who love you.

I'm being made aware of my mortality all the time.

Sometimes, when you are not getting the love you want, giving makes you think you will.