“Welcome to the gates of heaven Adelia, and what did you do with your life? My Lord, I was a bishop's whore.”

“No. You can't work your way into heaven. Anytime you try and justify yourself with works, you disqualify yourself with works. What I do here, every day, for the rest of my life, is only my way of saying, 'Lord, regardless of what eternity holds for me, let me give something back to you. I know it doesn't even no scorecard. But let me make something of my life before I go.. and then, Lord, I'm at your mercy.”

“What did it mean to be called “lord”? I’ll assume you’ve never had the honor, since I doubt any of you happen to be British royalty. (And, if by chance you are, then let me say, “Hello, Your Majesty! Welcome to my stupid book. Can I borrow some cash?”)”

“Why did You give us so many stories about miracles? Why did Yousend Your Son down from heaven? Why did You give us movies if life doesn’t ever end well?What kind of fucking God are You? Do You want me to be miserable for the rest of my life?”

“I do urge you to welcome children. Even one child will make a difference in your life that you cannot fathom. I promise you, my girl.”

“Picture this scene. A critic arrives at the gates of heaven. 'And what did you do?' asks Saint Peter. 'Well', says the dead soul. 'I criticised things'. 'I beg your pardon?' 'You know, other people wrote things, performed things, painted things and I said stuff like, "thin and unconvincing", "turgid and uninspired", "competent and serviceable,"...you know'.”