Throughout his lifetime, University philosophy professor David Lewis incorporated his love of the discipline into every aspect of his existence.
As a 16-year-old undergraduate at Swarthmore College in the 1950s, and later as a graduate student at Harvard University, Lewis began to explore such philosophical "hot topics" as causation, metaphysics, the philosophy of language and the idea of possible worlds.
Lewis, 60, died last Sunday from complications from diabetes.
While traveling on trains in various parts of the globe — one of his favorite hobbies — Lewis's mind would inevitably turn to philosophy, as the scenery raced by him.
Even during the last year of his life, when illness caused him stay in the hospital, Lewis pondered philosophical concepts as he lay in bed. When he gained the strength to return home, the prolific thinker would then express his ideas in writing.
"He was a real intellectual, even from the very beginning," acting philosophy department chair Gilbert Harman said of Lewis, whom he first met while they were undergraduates at Swarthmore. "He loved ideas — to talk about them, develop them and write them up."
Throughout his career of more than 30 years, Lewis published several books, papers and articles on philosophical thought, earning him a reputation of being "probably the most important living philosopher of his time," Harman said.
In the face of his many accomplishments, Lewis remained a modest man.
"He accepted [his honors] with pleasure, but he didn't brag," said Stephanie Lewis, his wife of 36 years.
The two first met during a philosophy seminar on space and time at Harvard. She was an undergraduate in philosophy while he was a Ph.D. candidate — given by Australian philosopher Jack Smart, who soon became the couple's close friend.

From that moment, their relationship often centered on philosophy. Whether writing a joint comical, yet scholarly, paper on the nature of "Holes" — "philosophers make jokes like everybody else," Mrs. Lewis declares — or discussing philosophy in relation to baseball, the couple enjoyed sharing their similar academic interests among themselves and with others.
"He was devoted to his work and absorbed by it," said Lewis's wife, joking that she had to share her "bigamous marriage" with David's other love: philosophy.
..."He did what he did by natural inclination and with great intensity," she added. Her husband embodied the great philosopher Plato's idea that one's work should be satisfying, fulfilling and what one would be inclined to do even if it were not formal work, she said.
Harman also joked about the man he fondly refers to as an "outstanding figure" and a "prodigy." "He was an intellectual workaholic," he said.
Lewis, a professor at Princeton for 30 years, readily shared his admirable breadth of knowledge with those in his field, often traveling outside of the country to meet other philosophers.
During his career at the University, Lewis and his wife journeyed to Australia 27 times. There, Lewis spoke at various universities and visited the many colleagues he had befriended.
Yet even the brilliant philosopher had a difficult time understanding one thing: sports.
"He was the least athletic person. He knew absolutely nothing about sports," his wife joked, noting that the two would engage in an Abbott and Costello-like routine whenever she tried to inform him about the fundamental rules of baseball.
In spite of his disinclination toward sports, Lewis's fascination with the outback led him to become a "rabid" consumer of Australian football, which is played in informal, urban settings across the continent. An avid fan, Lewis — who "saw no fault in [his favorite] team and no good in everybody else" — even was a member of the Essendon Football Club.
In quite a different venue, Lewis was also an active member of the Princeton Folk Music Society and a devout fan of Australian and Irish folk music.
"He didn't have much of a voice, but he had considerable musicianship," said Lewis' wife, who shared her husband's musical taste.
While Lewis certainly valued both his academic studies and his hobbies, he also prized his relationships with the special people in his life, including his students, whom he wholeheartedly helped to master their own work.
"He was always clear, precise. He gave his time to students and helped them to become important philosophers," said Laurie Paul GS '99, who was a graduate student under Lewis. "He could raise objections and point out things that really pushed forward your work in a way no one else could."
In completing her dissertation, Paul spent much time with Lewis during three-hour intensive sessions, in which the two discussed "overwhelmingly difficult problems."
"He would say, 'I don't understand this,' and that meant there was a problem and you had to work it out," she said. "After about four or five sessions, I'd have a chapter of my dissertation and a publishable paper."
Lewis conducted his undergraduate courses with a similar passion.
"He taught incredibly slowly but was incredibly engaging," said Aaron Jackson '02, a student in Lewis's PHI 318: Metaphysics, a "legendary" course on time travel. "I think I have all of his lectures, verbatim," Jackson said.
To honor Lewis, Jackson said the Princeton Philosophical Society is organizing a forum for students to discuss his work.
"He was very open and critical, but gentle at all times," Jackson added. "He was a warmhearted person."
Paul, too, agreed.
Now a philosophy professor at the University of Arizona, she said she tries to emulate Lewis's systematic and thorough, yet encouraging and inspiring, style of teaching in her own courses.
"David set a standard that I've made my own," Paul explained. "When I get up to give lectures, I think 'how would David have done this?'"
Lewis, a Princeton resident for three decades, is survived by his wife, Stephanie, brother, Donald, and sister, Ellen.