Mitch Albom
Mitch Albom
Mitchell David "Mitch" Albomis an American best-selling author, journalist, screenwriter, dramatist, radio and television broadcaster, and musician. His books have sold over 35 million copies worldwide. Having achieved national recognition for sports writing in the earlier part of his career, he is perhaps best known for the inspirational stories and themes that weave through his books, plays, and films...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth23 May 1958
CityPassaic, NJ
CountryUnited States of America
I always look for a "rhythm" in my writing. A cadence to the sentences. Sometimes I think of pieces I write in a song writing infrastructure - i.e., a verse, a chorus that I return to, a bridge that's something differenct, a chorus that I return to.
Nobody's favorite movie is some dark, dysfunctional slasher story. Everybody's favorite song is a sentimental song. So why all of a sudden is it bad to be sentimental in books?
When he went blundering back to God, His songs half written, his work half done, Who knows what paths his bruised feet trod, What hills of peace or pain he won? I hope God smiled and took his hand, And said, "Poor truant, passionate fool! Life’s book is hard to understand: Why couldst thou not remain at school?" A poem by Charles Hanson Towne
God sings, we hum along, and there are many melodies, but it's all one song - one same, wonderful, human song.
when all this started, I asked myself, 'Am I going to withdraw from the world, like most people do, or am I going to live?' I decided I am going to live-or at least try to live-the way I want, with dignity, with courage, with humor, with composure.
People come down for baseball or football or hockey and drive by the refurbished Fox and State theaters, they see the new Hard Rock Cafe, the Borders bookstore, the bars and restaurants, the loft conversions. You can't drive around and not see what's happening down here.
I've always said I have one skill. That skill - if I have it at all - is storytelling.
Love lost is still love. It takes a different form, thats all. You cant 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. Life has to end. Love doesnt.
Since everyone was going to die, he could be of great value, right? ... He could be research. A human textbook. 'Study me in my slow and patient demise. Watch what happens to me. Learn with me.'
My jaw dropped, ... I felt shame that I had to find out over the television, then felt sorrow and a little grief that he was going to die.
I traded lots of dreams for a bigger paycheck, and I never realized I was doing it,
Do I wither up and disappear, or do I make the best of my time left? He would not wither. He would not be ashamed of dying.
No life is a waste. The only time we waste is the time we spend thinking we are alone.
People who don't normally read make an exception for my books, possibly because they're short.