“...it was never the sun overhead that brightened my days. It was the son playing on my lap.”
“...when I was angry at God because I couldn't go to my son, hold him, and comfort him, God's son was holding my son in his lap.”
“God did not intend for Irish kids to play in the sun, according to my mother.”
“Helen, beloved of the goddess of love, went downstairs to crawl into her empty bed as Lucas, the son of the sun, leaned back on his elbows and watched his father-god brighten the bare wooden planks of her widow's walk.”
“I'm never going to get married.""You're crazy." Buddy brightened. "You'll change your mind.""No. My mind's made up.”
“I played it for my bride, and one day you will play for yours.”