Mitch Albom, Tuesdays with Morrie

"The little things, I can obey. The big things—how we think, what we value—those you must choose yourself. You can't let anyone—or any society—determine those for you."

"Yet here was Morrie talking with the wonder of our college years, as if I'd simply been on a long vacation. .. What happened to me? I once promised I would never work for money, that I would join the Peace Corps, that I would live in beautiful, inspirational places."

"Yet here was Morrie talking with the wonder of our college years, as if I'd simply been on a long vacation. .. I once promised I would never work for money, that I would join the Peace Corps, that I would live in beautiful, inspirational places."

"You know what that reflects? Unsatisfied lives. Unfulfilled lives. Lives that haven't found meaning. Because if you've found meaning in your life, you don't want to go back. You want to go forward. You want to see more, do more. You can't wait until sixty-five."

"One afternoon, I am complaining about the confusion of my age, what is expected of me versus what I want for myself."

"I may be dying, but I am surrounded by loving, caring souls. How many people can say that?"

"We really don't experience the world fully, because we're half-asleep, doing things we automatically think we have to do.”And facing death changes that"Oh, yes. You strip away all that stuff and you focus on the essentials."

"None of us can undo what we've done, or relive a life already recorded. But, ... there is no such thing as "too late" in life."

"The things you spend so much time on--all this work you do--might not seem as important. You might have to make room for some more spiritual things."

"What happened to me? I asked myself. Morris's high, smoky voice took me back to my university years, when I thought rich people were evil, a shirt and tie were prison clothes, and life without freedom to get up and go - motorcycle beneath you, breeze in your face, down the streets of Paris, into the mountains of Tibet - was not a good life at all. What happened to me?"

"In the South American rainforest, there is a tribe called the Desana, who see the world as a fixed quantity of energy that flows between all creatures. Every birth must therefore engender a death, and every death brings forth another birth. This way, the energy of the world remains complete. When they hunt for food, the Desana know the animals they kill will leave a hole in the spiritual well. But that hole will be filled, they believe, by the Desana hunters when they die. Were there no men dying, there would be no birds or fish being born. I like this idea. Morrie likes it, too. The closer he gets to goodbye, the more he seems to feel we are all creatures in the same forest. What we take, we must replenish."It's only fair," he says."

"I didn't want to forget him. Maybe I didn't want him to forget me."

"Had it not been for "Nightline," Morrie would have died without ever seeing me again. I had no good excuse for this, except the one that everyone these days seems to have. I had become too wrapped up in the siren song of my life. I was busy."

"I was astonished by his complete lack of self-pity. Morrie, who could no longer dance, swim, bathe, or walk; Morrie, who could no longer answer his own door, dry himself after a shower, or even roll over in bed. How could he be so accepting? I watched him struggle with a fork, picking at a piece of tomato, missing it the first two times - a pathetic scene, and yet I could not deny that sitting in his presence was almost magically serene, the same calm breeze that soothed me back in college."

"You know what that reflects? Unsatisfied lives. Unfulfilled lives. Lives that haven't found meaning . Because if you've found meaning in your life, you don't want to go back. You want to go forward. You want to see more, do more. You can't wait until sixty-five."

"I had told him I was searching for my keys, that's what had taken me so long in the car, and I squeezed him tighter, as if I could crush my little lie."

"Ted," he said, "when all this started, I asked myself, 'Am I going to withdraw from the world, like most people do, or am I going to live" I decided I'm going to live-or at least try to live-the way I want, with dignity, with courage, with humor, with composure."

"Here's the thing," he said. "People see me as a bridge. I'm not as alive as I used to be, but I'm not yet dead. I'm sort of...in-between"

"But everyone knows someone who has died, I said. Why is it so hard to think about dying'Because,' Morrie continued, 'most of us walk around as if we're sleepwalking. We really don't experience the world fully, because we're half asleep, doing things we automatically think we have to do.'And facing death changes all that'Oh, yes. You strip away all that stuff and you focus on the essentials. When you realize you are going to die, you see everything much differently.'He sighed. 'Learn how to die, and you learn how to live."

"He told his friends that if they really wanted to help him, they would treat him not with sympathy but with visits, phone calls, a sharing of their problems - the way they had always.. because Morrie had always been a wonderful listener."