"The last class of my old professor's life took place once a week in his house, by a window in the study where he could watch a small hibiscus plant shed its pink leaves. The class met on Tuesdays. It began after breakfast. The subject was The Meaning of Life. It was taught from experience.

No grades were given, but there were oral exams each week. You were expected to respond to questions, and you were expected to pose questions of your own. You were also required to perform physical tasks now and then, such as lifting the professor's head to a comfortable spot on the pillow or placing his glasses on the bridge of his nose. Kissing him good-bye earned you extra credit.

No books were required, yet many topics were covered, including love, work, community, family, aging, forgiveness, and, finally, death. The last lecture was brief, only a few words.

A funeral was held in lieu of graduation.

Although no final exam was given, you were expected to produce one long paper on what was learned. That paper is presented here.

The last class of my old professor's life had only one student.

I was the student."

An excerpt from "tuesdays with Morrie" by Mitch Albom. It has the power of squeezing those tear ducts dry. It's not a thick book, with lots of description. In fact, its so concise, you wish there were more. An international bestseller. And hey, if that still doesn't convince you to read it, I guess then you don't like books very much.

"Do they strut when they putt?Do they talk about their hair?Or do they even care?Do they talk about cars?Are they from venus,maybe mars?"
This song i heard from Disney Channel. Yeah yeah, i know what you're thinking. But hello, it's kinda nice when you hear it with the song.
"tuesdays with Morrie" also looked at the effect of silence on human relations. And the thing is, Morrie, a professor, walked into class one day and just sat down, for 15 minutes. Think about what you would do.
That was what they did.
Uncertainty had a sudden status in the room and everyone worshipped it. Some looked up, others looked around, some started fidgeting, others got preoccupied with their hands. What is it? Are we embarrassed by silence? Or are we comforted by noise?
Silence is sacred. Too sacred. When let out, we shun it.


But hey,be brave, face it.
The brave do not live forever, but the cautious do not live at all.