You're not a wave, you're a part of the ocean.

You're not going to get to college - you're not even going to be qualified, even to go to a community college, if you don't address the basic problem of literacy in America. And there's no reason - no reason - for us to have that problem.

When someone is in your heart, they're never truly gone. They can come back to you, even at unlikely times.

You'll come to my grave? To tell me your problems?" My problems? "Yes.' And you'll give me answers? "I'll give you what I can. Don't I always?" I picture his grave, on the hill, overlooking the pond, some little nine foot piece of earth where they will place him, cover him with dirt, put a stone on top. Maybe in a few weeks? Maybe in a few days? I see myself sitting there alone, arms across my knees, staring into space. It won't be the same, I say, not being able to hear you talk. "Ah, talk . . . " He closes his eyes and smiles. "Tell you what. After I'm dead, you talk. And I'll listen.

For many of us, the curtain had just come down on childhood.

My mother was French Protestant, and my father was Italian Catholic, and their union was an excess of God, guilt and sauce.

It's amazing the fantasies your mind can put together.