“Yeah. Sure. My brother's dead. My mother's insane. Hey, let's have a crepe.”

“My father had put these things on the table.I looked at him standing by the sink. He was washing his hands, splashing water on his face. My mamma left us. My brother, too. And now my feckless, reckless uncle had as well. My pa stayed, though. My pa always stayed.I looked at him. And saw the sweat stains on his shirt. And his big, scarred hands. And his dirty, weary face. I remembered how, lying in my bed a few nights before, I had looked forward to showing him my uncle's money. To telling him I was leaving. And I was so ashamed.”

“She smells of her cooking and the perfume Eau d'Hadrien. My mother wore it, too. She used to cook, like Lili. Our house smelled of garlic and thyme instead of sadness.”

“You can't argue with the dead, no matter what you say, they always have the last word.”

“The driver's on me in an instant. She's crying and trembling. She grabs the front of my jacket and shakes me. "You crazy bitch!" she screams. "I could have killed you!""Sorry," I say"Sorry?" she shouts. "You don't look sorry. You-""Sorry you missed," I say.She lets go of me then. Takes a step back.”

“India said, 'But Mrs. Moskowitz, it just won't work. I still have to find a proper salaried position. I have to cover my expenses. Pay my rent.''You will stay with us.''Thank you. Truly. But it would be impossible.'Mrs. Moskowitz reached across the table. She covered India's hand with her own. 'With all respect, my dear India,' she said, 'I look to God to tell me what is possible. Not to you.”

“I need a boy who thinks with his big head, not his little one. Since they do not exist, I have fashioned my own.”