“I think your husband has that something about him that defines honor very narrowly. I fear he is the stuff of which martyrs are made." (Tom Lasser, p. 358)”

“He has trifled with the sacred memory of my husband," thought the Professor's widow. "On my life and honor, I will make him pay for it.”

“Okay," I said, "what's your biggest fear?"As always, he took a second to think about the answer."Clowns," he said."Clowns.""Yup."I just looked at him. "What?" he said, glancing over at me."That is not a real answer," I told him."Says who?""Says me. I meant a real fear, like of failure, of death, of regret. Like that. Something that keeps you awake nights, questioning your very existence."He thought for a second. "Clowns.”

“I cannot believe that I am actually excited at the sight of him. It has been long since anyone has made me feel THIS...and even though I know I've avoided THIS for fear of getting hurt, there's something about him that makes me want to trust him.”

“Very few people believe in the devil these days, which suits the devil very well. He is always helping to circulate the news of his own death. The essence of God is existence, and He defines Himself as: 'I am Who am.' The essence of the devil is the lie, and he defines himself as: 'I am who am not.' Satan has very little trouble with those who do not believe in him; they are already on his side.”

“Is it...dead?" asked Tom, his voice all quivery with fright."A town just ran over him," said Hester. "I shouldn't think he's very well...”