Tuesdays with Morrie

by Mitch Albom

I traded lots of dreams for a bigger paycheck, and I never even realized I was doing it.

How useful it would be to put a daily limit on self-pity. Just a few tearful minutes, then on with the day.

“I’m going to say it again,” he said. “Once you learn how to die, you learn how to live.” He smiled, and I realized what he was doing. He was making sure I absorbed this point, without embarrassing me by asking. It was part of what made him a good teacher.

This is how you start to get respect, by offering something that you have.

Devote yourself to loving others, devote yourself to your community around you, and devote yourself to creating something that gives you purpose and meaning.

When Morrie was with you, he was really with you. He looked you straight in the eye, and he listened as if you were the only person in the world.

I want to tell him to be more open, to ignore the lure of advertised values, to pay attention when your loved ones are speaking, as if it were the last time you might hear them.

Have you ever really had a teacher? One who saw you as a raw but precious thing, a jewel that, with wisdom, could be polished to a proud shine? If you are lucky enough to find your way to such teachers, you will always find your way back. Sometimes it is only in your head. Sometimes it is right alongside their beds.