“I never said I was good,” he told her, taking the pen. “Just that I liked doing it.”“That’s the best kind of good.”

“You're not just doing that to impress her, are you?""Everything I do is to impress her. It's my mission in life," he said with a completely serious face, while he squeezed my knee under the table. Mom burst out laughing. "I like him," she said."Me too. I think I'll keep him," I said, taking his hand and twisting my fingers with his. "Good," he said, giving my hand a squeeze.”

“He told me to tell youyou could have everything you want and do everything you want as long as you take good care of the kids.” Hagen smiled. “He said to tell you that you’re his Don. That’s just a joke.”

“Mrs. Faulkner had sidled up to me and said Good day, Mrs. Elliot?I just looked at her, and I saw in her eyes that she was wanting some kind of approval for her boy because of his career ahead, and she suddenly just looked like an old lady, not fancy and rich and frightening. An old lady whose son admired my husband, and who herself would be as helpless in the Territories as a newborn calf and not nearly as useful. Good day, I said back. It is a funny thing how much more proud people can be of themselves if they never step back and take a good look in a glass.”

“Hello!" He said hello and then said, "What are you up to now?" "I'm still crazy. The rain feels good. I love to walk in it. "I don't think I'd like that," he said. "You might if you tried." "I never have." She licked her lips. "Rain even tastes good." "What do you do, go around trying everything once?" he asked. "Sometimes twice.”

“I don't really do friends,' I told him.'Good,' he said. 'I don't want you to "do" me. We've established the flaws in that plan already...”