“I may be heaven-sent, bit I'm not perfect”

“I may be heaven-sent, but I'm not perfect.”

“Straightening, I asked, "What do you believe in?""Old love songs, best friends, the collected works of J.R.R.Tolkien, crispy pork egg rolls with just the right amount of grease, the Big Boss and eternity.""The Big Boss?"Zachary pointed up, as if to heaven. "Pious,"I teased.”

“Miranda: You say you were my guardian angel. Does that mean you watched me all the time? Like when I got my period or doctored a zit or took a shower or-Zachary: I'm an angel, not a Peeping Tom.”

“It's not about you, it's about the story. It's not about the folks who raise an eyebrow because you're not yet published or not yet J.K. Rowling. It's not about what that lady at church may think or, for that matter, the critics. It's not about the fact that you can't please everyone, and it's sure as heck not about the odds. In the immortal words of Gold Five, "Stay on target." You may or may not be the one who destroys the Death Star. But you're a hero if you get out of your own way, put it all on the line, and try.”

“I like it,” I said. “The material’s so heavy, though. Imay turn into a sweat monster.”

“You ate the police?! I exclaimed.”