“I signed with the Milwaukee Braves for three-thousand dollars. That bothered my dad at the time because he didn't have that kind of dough. But he eventually scraped it up.”

“Twas battered and scarred, and the auctioneerThought it scarcely worth his whileTo waste much time on the old violin,But held it up with a smile.“What am I bidden, good folks,” he cried,“Who’ll start the bidding for me?”“A dollar, a dollar. Then two! Only two?Two dollars, and who’ll make it three?”“Three dollars, once; three dollars, twice;Going for three…” But no,From the room, far back, a grey-haired manCame forward and picked up the bow;Then wiping the dust from the old violin,And tightening the loosened strings,He played a melody pure and sweet,As a caroling angel sings.The music ceased, and the auctioneer,With a voice that was quiet and low,Said: “What am I bid for the old violin?”And he held it up with the bow.“A thousand dollars, and who’ll make it two?Two thousand! And who’ll make it three?Three thousand, once; three thousand, twice,And going and gone,” said he.The people cheered, but some of them cried,“We do not quite understand.What changed its worth?” Swift came the reply:“The touch of the Master’s hand.”And many a man with life out of tune,And battered and scarred with sin,Is auctioned cheap to the thoughtless crowdMuch like the old violin.A “mess of pottage,” a glass of wine,A game — and he travels on.He is “going” once, and “going” twice,He’s “going” and almost “gone.”But the Master comes, and the foolish crowdNever can quite understandThe worth of a soul and the change that is wroughtBy the touch of the Master’s hand.”

“I think Mr. Hawk forgot that he told us to count all our lightbulbs. Because a few days after he told us to do that, he never asked how many lightbulbs we had. But that was okay. Because I kept forgetting to count them anyway. So if he asked, I was going to have to make up a number and say that my house had one thousand three hundred seventy-six lightbulbs. Because I didn't want to look poor.”

“Safety is an illusion, Costis. A Thief might fall at any time, and eventually the day must come when the god will let him. Whether I am on a rafter three stories up or on a staircase three steps up, I am in my god's hands. He will keep me safe, or he will not, here or on the stairs.”

“I loved him for the dad he didn't have to be. But was.”

“When I was a kid I used to drink from the tap all the time. I'd run back into the flat all hot and sweaty from playing and didn't even bother putting it in a glass, just turned the tap on and stuck my mouth underneath it. If my mom caught me doing it she used to scold me, but my dad just said that I had to be careful. 'What if a fish jumped out?' he used to say. 'You'd swallow it before you knew it was there.' Dad was always saying stuff like that and it wasn't until I was seventeen that I realised it was because he was stoned all the time.”