the five people you meet in heaven

by Mitch Albom

Some of my favorite quotes:

-- It might seem strange to start a story with an ending. But all endings are also beginnings. We just don't know it at the time. (p1)

-- Every life has one true-love snapshot. (p9)

-- How do people choose their final words? Do they realize their gravity? Are they fated to be wise? (p13)

-- No life is a waste. The only time we waste is the time we spend thinking we are alone. (p50)

-- Dying? Not the end of everything. We think it is. But what happens on earth is only the beginning. (p91)

-- Sacrifice is a part of life. It's supposed to be. It's not something to regret. It's something to aspire to. (p93)

-- Sometimes when you sacrifice something really precious, you're not really losing it. You're just passing it on to someone else. (p94)

-- All parents damage their children. It cannot be helped. Youth, like pristine glass, absorbs the prints of its handlers. Some parents smudge, others crack, a few shatter childhoods completely into jagged little pieces, beyond repair. (p104)

-- Parents rarely let go of their children, so children let go of them. They move on. They move away. The moments that used to define them-a mother's approval, a father's nod- are covered by moments of their own accomplishments. It is not until much later, as the skin sags and the heart weakens, that children understand; their stories, and all their accomplishments, sit atop the stories of their mothers and fathers, stones upon stones, beneath the waters of love. (p126)

-- Holding anger is a poison. It eats you from inside. We think that hating is a weapon that attacks the person who harmed us. But hatred is a curved blade. And the harm we do, we do to ourselves. (p141)

-- People say they "find" love, as if it were an object hidden by a rock. But love takes many forms, and it is never the same for any man or woman. What people find then is a certain love. (p155)

-- Lost love is still love, Eddie. It takes a different form, that's all. You can't see their smile or bring them food or tousle their hair or move them around a dance floor. But when those senses weaken, another heightens. Memory. Memory becomes your partner. You nurture it. You hold it. You dance with it. (p173)

Highly Recommend! ****