“Yeah god speaks to me sometimes... mostly he mumbles. I'm not sure he knows who I am.”

“I won't telephone him. I'll never telephone him again as long as I live. He'll rot in hell, before I'll call him up. You don't have to give me strength, God; I have it myself. If he wanted me, he could get me. He knows where I am. He knows I'm waiting here. He's so sure of me, so sure. I wonder why they hate you, as soon as they are sure of you.”

“Sometimes I'm not so sure just who I am either.”

“You think you know me, but I'm not sure that even I know who I am anymore.”

“Speaking of - why the heck am I looking at his figure? My eyes snap up. Sure enough, he's looking, cocky little grin in place like he's God's gift to the female eye and he caught me praising the Lord.”

“I think we can do it.""But you don't know for sure," he said."No.""Geez, Anita.""Don't get rattled on me. We can do this.""But you aren't sure.""I'm not sure we'll survive the plane ride home, but I'm still getting on the plane.""Was that supposed to be comforting?" he asked."Yeah.""It wasn't," he said."Sorry, but this is as good as it gets. You want certainty, be an accountant.""I'm not good at math.""Me either.”