“I whispered to Dad during Rosh Hashanah services, "Do you believe in God?" "Not really," he said. "No.""Then why do we come here?"He sucked thoughfully on his Tums tablet and put his arm around me, draping me under his musty woolen prayer shawl, and then shrugged. "I've been wrong before," he said.And that pretty much summed up what theology there was to find in the Foxman home.”

“Sorry," I said..."Sorry for what?" He glanced over at me."For whatever I did wrong," I said."Did you do something?"I shrugged, "Why are you not talking to me?""I'm just driving." He moved his hand from the gearshift onto my leg. "Do you like snowmobiling?""I love it," I said.He shot me a look. "Have you ever gone snowmobiling before?""No," I said.He smiled. God, I hate his smile, I love it so much.”

“I know that look." I put one arm out in from of me. He didn't stop. "Chris, we have to get going." I backed up, scooting over to put the couch between us."What?" He feigned and innocent expression."You know what." He kept coming. I continued evasive maneuvers. "They're going to be waiting on us."He shrugged. "It's not my wedding." His tongue darted out, wetting his bottom lip before sucking it back into his mouth. "I'd rather push that way too tight dress up around your waist and bend you over the couch.”

“He put his hand on mine. I fell into him, knowing what he would do, what he must do, and he did. He opened his arms and held me, and I let him embrace me. “It’s okay,” he said. “It’s okay.”

“Marcus sat down beside me against the wall and pulled me into his arms. I went like a child and curled up in his lap and cried. He didn’t speak. He just held me, and his silence and acceptance soothed the pain. When my crying eventually mellowed, I stared up at him and touched his face. He was real, and he was here. Even after I had been the reason he lost his job, he had come to me in the darkness. “Saddie,” he whispered, as if his words might be too much for me. “I need you to eat for me.”

“Do you really admire me very much.?" he asked the little prince."What does "admire" mean.?""To admire means that you consider me the handsomest, the best dressed, the richest and the most intelligent man on this planet.""But you are all alone on your planet.!""Do me this kindness. Admire me all the same.!""I admire you," said the little prince with a slight shrug of his shoulders, "but why should that mean so much to you.?"And the little prince went away."Grown- ups are really very odd," he said to himself, as he continued on his journey.”