A Heart That Works

by Rob Delaney

A heart that hurts is a heart that works.

Pardon this gush of sorrow; these ineffectual words are but a slight tribute to the unexampled worth of Henry, but they soothe my heart, overflowing with the anguish which his remembrance creates.

if something went wrong, I could very, very quickly be with Henry. And that felt good.

One of the worst parts of depression is that in its cunning, it wholesale convinces you that it will last forever.

even if you don’t believe something, you can kind of lean on other people’s beliefs when you’re really down. Do you believe that I believe it?

someone who could beat anything that can be beaten. Cancer’s pretty much going to do what it wants.

I suspect I am a glass of water, and when I die, the contents of my glass will be poured into the same vast ocean that Henry’s glass was poured into, and we will mingle together forever. We won’t know who’s who. And you’ll get poured in there one day, too.