It's a queer business, making oneself blind.
We scarcely know how much of our pleasure and interest in life comes to us through our eyes until we have to do without them; and part of that pleasure is that the eyes can choose where to look. But the ears can't choose where to listen.
... privilege was obligation; command was service; power, the gift itself, entailed a heavy loss of freedom.
With eye and hand and breath and will.
To see that your life is a story while you're in the middle of living it may be a help to living it well.
Grieving, like being blind, is a strange business; you have to learn how to do it. We seek company in mourning, but after the early bursts of tears, after the praises have been spoken, and the good days remembered, and the lament cried, and the grave...
Stories are what death thinks he puts an end to. He can't understand that they end in him, but they don't end with him.
