"Act! the wise are known by their actions; fame and immortality are ever their attendants. Mark with deeds the vanishing traces of swiftrolling time. Let us make happy the circle around us,--be useful as much as we may. For that fills up with soft rapture, that dissolves the dark clouds of the day!"

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There is something disorderly about the death of a young person. In a universe disturbed by so much over which we have no control, an untimely tragedy rattles the teeth of our already shaken confidence. We want to domesticate death, fight it on our own turf, in familiar rooms with shades drawn evenly, top sheets turned back, and a circle of hushed voices closing in.

— Faye Moskowitz