“He just did it for the same reason he does everything else - he felt like it.”

“He doesn't think. He just does. A nonthinking doer.”

“Did he realized nothing would last, that sooner or later every last speck and smidgeon of matter would disapper?”

“His nostrils flared, he was breathing like a picadored bull.”

“He wagged his finger in my face. "You're not SUPPOSED to do anything. YOU'RE the one trying to change ME. Remember? As far as I'M concerned, YOU can do anything you want.""Except criticize you.""Hey," he said, "if that's how you want to spend your life, getting on my case"--he threw out his arms--"be my guest." He turned his deep blue eyes on me. "And anyway--" He let it hang there. He was smirking.Suddenly I felt as if I were on roller skates. "What?""I know why you're doing it."I stopped. He walked on."Doing what?" I said. "What? Why?" I think I was babbling.He flipped his answer as blithely as a candy wrapper over his shoulder: "You know.”

“Happy". I had not heard that word since Mr. Milgrom spoke it at the last Hanukkah. I asked him the question that had been on my mind since then. "Tata, what is happy?"He looked at me and at the ceiling and back to me."Did you ever taste an orange?" he said. ”

“We live in a silent explosion, Everything is flying away from everything else... flying away... flying away...”