Medicine, you see, is my first love; whether I write fiction or nonfiction, and even when it has nothing to do with medicine, it's still about medicine. After all, what is medicine but life plus? So I write about life. — Abraham Verghese Copy Share Image
I've never bought this idea of taking a therapeutic distance. If I see a student or house staff cry, I take great faith in… — Abraham Verghese Copy Share Image
I love to read poetry but I haven't written anything that I'm willing to show anybody. — Abraham Verghese Copy Share Image
We come unbidden into this life, and if we are lucky we find a purpose beyond starvation, misery, and early death which, lest we… — Abraham Verghese Copy Share Image
I think America is really in denial about the degree to which residents, particularly foreign medical graduates, man the county hospitals of this country,… — Abraham Verghese Copy Share Image
“Do they listen?" He held up a finger. "Every year one does," he said, ginning, "But that one makes it worthwhile. Even Jesus only… — Abraham Verghese Copy Share Image
“It seems we humans never learn. And so we relearn the lesson every generation and then want to write epistles. We proselytize to our… — Abraham Verghese Copy Share Image
It was all I had, all I've ever had, the only currency, the only proof that I was alive. Memory. — Abraham Verghese Copy Share Image
“There it was, Hema must have thought; it was both the sorry and the thank-you that was so long overdue, and the funny thing… — Abraham Verghese Copy Share Image
“This is my life, I thought, as my taxi slogged through heavy traffic and inched through the tunnel to Logan Airport. I have excised… — Abraham Verghese Copy Share Image
“I could see that the almost mystical aura of this legendary surgeon -- the single-mindedness, the dedication, the skill -- was mere surface. The… — Abraham Verghese Copy Share Image
“As a child I'd longed for Thomas Stone or at least the idea of him. So many mornings I waited for him at the… — Abraham Verghese Copy Share Image
“The reader, knowing nothing about the ‘dark continent,’ filled in the blanks. Pictured Stone in a tent, kerosene lamp held up by a Hottentot… — Abraham Verghese Copy Share Image
“This was what growing up was about: hide the corpse, don't bare your heart, do make assumptions about the motives of others. They're certainly… — Abraham Verghese Copy Share Image
“And as for my father? No, he wouldn't ever walk through those gates; I now knew that. Whatever Thomas Stone had, wherever he was… — Abraham Verghese Copy Share Image
“... telling herself stories about herself in a singsong voice, creating her own mythology.” — Abraham Verghese Copy Share Image
