“I believe that God hears our prayers, and cherishes them. I believe He answers by sending us His spirit, giving us strenght, and peace, and insight. I don't think He responds by turning away bullets and curing cancer. Though sometimes that does happen." Harlene frowned. "In other words, sometimes, the answer is no?""No. Sometimes the answer is "This is life, in all its variety. Make your way through it with grace, and never forget that I love you.”

“And as for people shunning us because of our known association with homosexuals”—here she wiggled her eyebrows, because she sounded ridiculously like Joseph McCarthy—“I say we don’t want new members who would think like that. We want people who will admire us for taking a stand and who will say, ‘Yes, that’s Christianity; that’s how I want to live it and that’s the church I want to belong to.”

“Russ decided the best defense was a good offense. "I'm Russell Van Alstyne, Millers Kill chief of police." He held out his hand. She shook firm, like a guy."Clare Fergusson," she said. "I'm the new priest at Saint Alban's. That's the Episcopal Church. At the corner of Elm and Church." There was a faint testiness in her voice. Russ relaxed a fraction. A woman priest. If that didn't beat all."I know which it is. There are only four churches in town." He saw the fog creeping along the edges of his glasses again and snatched them off, fishing for a tissue in his pocket. "Can you tell me what happened, um..." What was he supposed to call her? "Mother?""I go by Reverend, Chief. Ms. is fine, too.""Oh. Sorry. I never met a woman priest before.""We're just like the men priests, except we're willing to pull over and ask directions.”

“She was pretty, yeah, but pretty like hundreds of other girls. You," he dabbed the bread in the air as if sketching her, "you're...memorable. Who you are just shines through your face.”

“So I can be the girl from Titanic who stays high and dry while you, the guy, vanish beneath the icy waves? I don’t think so.”

“Maybe they were back to not talking. That's what she missed the most: talking. Serious, silly, bone-deep, flippant, all their words and thoughts like gifts to each other, the only gifts they, with their hobbled hearts, could give.”

“He stomped away like a pint-sized Godzilla looking for Tokyo.”