“He died at forty-two. I was there to collect his talent. I was there at the hospital deathbed of my beloved Billie Holiday, just forty-four, her liver destroyed by drinking; I was there inside the hotel room of Charlie Parker,… — Mitch Albom Copy Share
“By the way, Reb, about the singing. What gives? Walt Whitman sang the body electric. Billie Holiday sang the blues. You sang…everything. You could sing the phone book. I would call and say how are you feeling, and you’d answer,… — Mitch Albom Copy Share Image
“He wondered how it was fair that your dying should depend so much on when you were born.” — Mitch Albom Copy Share Image
“After the funeral, my life changed. I felt as if time were suddenly precious, water going down an open drain, and I could not… — Mitch Albom Copy Share Image
“Once, lovers on faraway shores sat by candlelight and dipped ink to parchment, writing words that could not be erased. They took an evening… — Mitch Albom Copy Share Image
Giving to other people makes me feel alive. Not my car or my house. Not what I look like in the mirror. When I… — Mitch Albom Copy Share Image
“If the only thing wrong with Moses is that he's not yours; if the only thing wrong with Jesus is that he's not yours;… — Mitch Albom Copy Share Image
“Sometimes your kids will say the nastiest things, won't they, Rose? You want to ask,'Whose child is this?'" Rose chuckled. "But usually, they're just… — Mitch Albom Copy Share Image
“I had also developed my own culture. Work. Over the years, I had taken labor as my companion and had moved everything else to… — Mitch Albom Copy Share Image
