“Remember two eighty-six. Livia now counted on the same sort of feverish, rain-soaked determination that had driven Blake to the train station for smile number two hundred eighty-six. Please be there. He has to be there.”

“Four hundred forty-six,” Cole whispered.“What?” she asked.He kept his head down in what seemed to be a prayer. “He counts. You’ve smiled at him four hundred and forty-six times as of a few minutes ago. He announces the number every time I see him.”“I’m ashamed to admit that I didn’t think you were real. Considering my line of work, I should have more faith in humanity.” Cole shook his head. “I think it was smile two hundred eighty-six that drove me the most crazy. It was the night train. Blake was so sick, feverish. Honestly, I was considering taking him to the hospital. But no. He didn’t want to miss a smile. He wouldn’t even let me drive him. Blake walked the whole way in the pouring rain for number two eighty-six.”

“CUSTOMER: Do you have a copy of Nineteen Eighty Six?BOOKSELLER: Nineteen Eighty Six?CUSTOMER: Yeah, Orwell.BOOKSELLER: Oh – Nineteen Eighty Four.CUSTOMER: No, I’m sure it’s Nineteen Eighty. Six; I’ve always remembered it because it’s the year I was born.”

“My old man was eighty-six per cent white bread and a hundred per cent asshole.”

“Of my grandfather's eighty-six years on the planet, he had lived two of them in Alaska...But those two years had expanded, sponge-like, in his memory, overtaking much of the rest. Whole decades had passed in California without producing a single worthy anecdote”

“He kept his head down in what seemed to be a prayer. “He counts. You’ve smiled at him four hundred and forty-six times as of a few minutes ago. He announces the number every time I see him.”