“The old man pushed into his cane and heaved himself up. “Why do you waste your time, Meghan, running through the folds of it?”

“Screw up my life?" He stared at me for a second and then said, deadpan, "I'm a five-foot-three, thirty-seven-year-old, single, Jewish medical examiner who needs to pick up his lederhosen from the dry cleaners so that he can play in a one-man polka band at Oktoberfest tomorrow." He pushed up his glasses with his forefinger, folded his arms, and said, "Do your worst.”

“I only suggest to you: Will you dwell on killing this man? You wish for revenge? If you do, he has already killed you by slow poison. So, let it go. Why waste your time? His life will see to his death.”

“Just walk up to your hell & give it a push. Run through it & i'll be waiting on the other side.”

“Not only do I not believe in not believing in God, I’m also a big supporter of crutches, canes, walkers, and anything that helps support man through difficult times.
”

“Okay, you’re older. Not much, really. And considering you love staying in shape and I refuse to run, we’ll probably get all old and crippled at the same time. If not, then I’ll learn to use a cane, and I’ll get to beat on your ass for a change.”