“I was angry with myself because I still loved her, or at least I loved that dream of our togetherness. My feelings were unreasonable, irrational, and I couldn’t change them. That hurt.”

Literature is a beautiful way of keeping the imagination alive, of visiting worlds you would never have time to in your day-to-day life. It keeps you abreast of a wider spectrum of human activities.

There is that lovely feeling of one reader telling another, ‘You must read this.’

If seems almost un-American to enjoy delays, and perhaps enjoy is not the best word, but certainly a delayed flight

This is my life, I thought…I have excised the cancer from my past, cut it out; I have crossed the high plains, descended into the desert, traversed oceans, and planted my feet in new soil

That’s the funny thing about America–the blessed thing. As many people as there are to hold you back, there are angels whose humanity makes up for all the others.

It’s an eerie feeling, as if my old mentor is not just in the room, but in my shoes, using me as his mouthpiece.

According to Shiva, life is in the end about fixing holes. Shiva didn’t speak in metaphors. fixing holes is precisely what he did.

Empathy can be replaced by cynicism.

I’ve had my share of angels.

I always wondered if the good people who send us bibles really think that hookworm and hunger are healed by scripture? Our patients are illiterate.

A beautiful literary collection that tells of today’s country doctor, somewhat removed from our romantic black-bag image of days gone by, but still fulfilling an essential need in caring for spread-out populations.

There are moments as a teacher when I’m conscious that I’m trotting out the same exact phrase my professor used with me years ago.

To be around someone whose self-confidence is more than what our first glance led us to expect is seductive.

When I wake to the gift of yet another sunrise my first thought is to rouse him and say, I owe you the sight of morning.

…guilt leads to righteous action, but rarely is it the right action.

Students undergo a conversion in the third year of medical school – not pre-clinical to clinical, but pre-cynical to cynical.

His words filled my heart to the brim. I loved him in a way id never be able to express in words. He was part of me. And i was part of him. Tethered together for the rest of eternity.

To the lives that haven’t been lived yet. That will be my gift back to the world that gave me the life I did live, the love I loved, the breath I breathed.

Perhaps there is no position more perilous to a man’s honesty thanthat?of knowing himselftobe quiteloved by a girl whom he almost loves himself.

I want to have some stuff that I keep for myself, my friends, my family, my loved ones. That’s how I view.

There’s always one who loves and one who lets himself be loved.

The important thing was to love rather than to be loved.

The books I read are the ones I knew and loved when I was a young man and to which I return as you do to old friends.

I always loved fashion.