the words people do not speak are louder than the ones they do.

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.

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

There is everything you know and there is everything that happens. When the two do not line up, you make a choice.

Your voice will come. We all go through the same thing. You cannot talk when you first arrive." He smiled. "It helps you listen.

She had been so consumed with escaping her own misery, she hadn't considered the misery she might inflict.

The years after graduation hardened me into someone quite different from the strutting graduate who left campus that day headed for New York city, ready to offer the world his talent. The world, I discovered. was not all that interested.