I could bear the memory, but I could not bear the music that made the memory such a killing thing.

Music could ache and hurt, that beautiful music was a place a suffering man could hide.

I learned that if I could read, I could cook. I surprised myself I like it.

One can learn anything, anything at all, I thought, if provided by a gifted and passionate teacher.

Man wonders but God decides When to kill the Prince of Tides.

I was born and raised on a Carolina sea island and I carried the sunshine of the low-country, inked in dark gold, on my back and shoulders.

We old athletes carry the disfigurements and markings of contests remembered only by us and no one else. Nothing is more lost than a forgotten game.