Old age doth in sharp pains abound;We are belabored by the gout,Our blindness is a dark profound,Our deafness each one laughs about.Then reason’s light with falling rayDoth but a trembling flicker cast.Honor to age, ye...

I had a dream about you. You were playing the guitar like it was a piano, and I was impressed with my deafness. You played awfully, but all I could hear was I love you.

If I hadn’t lost my hearing, I wouldn’t be where I am now. It forced me to maximize my own potential. I have to be better than the average person to succeed.

Ajoelhou-se ao piano, acariciou as teclas, os pedais, a madeira, e abraçou-o, parecendo abraçar um homem gordo e grande para o qual os seus braços franzinos não chegavam. Homem amado, tantos anos doce, agora amargo...

My father spoke with his hands. He was deaf. His voice was in his hands. And his hands contained his memories.