Tuesdays with Morrie

From the text:

With each visit, Morrie seemed to be melting into his chair, his spine taking on its shape. Still, every morning he insisted on being lifted from his bed and wheeled to his study, deposited there among his books and papers and the hibiscus plant on the windowsill. In typical fashion, he found something philosophical in this.

“I sum it up in my newest aphorism,” he said. Let me hear it.

“When you’re in bed, you’re dead.”