“Rule Number Two, Monsignor. Do not show pity.”

“She felt like a baton getting passed along in a relay race, completely devoid of any control over her destiny.”

“Everybody was sorry. Sorry was easy. Sorry was for suckers.”

“I thought you'd be better at this.""Why?"Bridget shrugged. "'Cause your dad's a cop.""Right," Matt said, shifting his body so he wasn't blocking the light. "Why wouldn't he teach me Breaking and Entering 101?"Bridget stifled a yawn. "Might be helpful now.""Patience, grasshopper." Matt inserted a second metal prong into the lock. "I know a few tricks."Bridget heard a soft click, and Matt raised his eyebrows in an unspoken "I told you so" before twisting the handle. The door swung open."Slick, MacGyver," Bridget whispered, patting him on the head. "Remind me to give you a cookie.”

“Someone tells me I’ve been touched by Jesus, I remember.”“Not Jesus,” he said in all seriousness. “The hand of God.”

“As expected, the church lady grumbled something incoherent and put Bridget’s call on hold. A peppy rendition of “City of God” blared as hold music just long enough for Bridget to start to sing along with the chorus. Catholic brainwashing at its best.”

“Rock & Roll is so great, people should start dying for it. You don't understand. The music gave you back the beat so you could dream. A whole generation running with a Fender bass...The people just have to die for the music. People are dying for everything else, so why not the music? Die for it. Isn't it pretty? Wouldn't you die for something pretty?Perhaps I should die. After all, all the great blues singers did die. But life is getting better now.I don't want to die. Do I? - Lou Reed (1965-1968)”