It was just so representative of playing at Michigan. We did something we just don't do. It's part of Michigan's athleticism but also playing in this environment. We just played slower, paralysis by analysis.

When the doctors came in a little while later saying they thought they knew my diagnosis, I was afraid to know.

It seemed like an ordinary day, but little did I know that this wasn’t going to be a normal ballet class.

Before I knew it, I was racing across the highway. For the first time in my life, I didn’t know what to think.

I was really happy because the doctor had said I would be better by then, and I was ready for this terrible nightmare to be over.

You can handle the wheelchair," said the occupational therapist, with a smile intended to make the remark sound like good news, whereas to my ears it had the ring of a life sentence.

The paralysis of analysis might stop you from creating new records.

Today, I would say at last, this disciplinary Tourette’s syndrome, where suddenly and even in the face of tremendous productivity architecture still blurts out a sense of shame, is starting to be understood as self-imposed and more likely to prolong paralysis than move the discipline further.

The thought of being able to [move my arms] made me want to give up my legs [instead] since I was accustomed to using them. But, I figured that after a few hours of sitting in a wheelchair...I would switch back...in a flash.

I lay there for three whole days, totally paralyzed. My friends helped me to the bathroom and anywhere else I needed to move; but I have very vague impressions of those days because it was a time of complete darkness for me. Somebody told me later that what I had was a form of hysteria: my body and my mid fled into paralysis. There was nothing wrong with me organically, but somewhere inside I suffered a complete breakdown.