“Good grief, Molly. He doesn't scare you?""Of course not.""But he's...""He's sweet," Molly insisted.Dare snorted. "He's still listening.”

“An when Ike walks through that door- after I finish kissin him to death- I'm gonna tie him to that chair an never let him go, cux life's too gawdamn short an it's about time I start takin my own advice. I might need yer help, of course, but I'm sure you won't mind, seein how- Molly! Jack grabs her hand. Stop, Molly, please. Dammit Moll. Ike ain't gonna walk through the door.She goes still. Very still. Her smile fades. Please don't say it, she whispers. He can't bear to. But he has to. Ike's dead, he says. He's dead, Molly. I'm sorry.”

“In the distance, he could see Molly lying in the tall grass off to the side of the house.”

“Jack lifts his mug. Me an Ike do the same.To Molly Pratt, says Jack.Ike scowls at him. Watch yer mouth, he says.Jeez, Ike, says Jack. All I’m sayin is … to Molly Pratt.Ike looks sly. Leans in an waggles his eyebrows. To Molly Pratt, he says, an her frilly red bloomers.One helluva woman, says Jack.One helluva pair of undies, says Ike.Then they throw their drinks down their necks.”

“He who gives life, nourishes life. He listens, this I can tell you. Whatever happens, He's listening. He doesn't always answer right away. He doesn't always say yes. But He's listening. This much I promise you.”

“...Molly, at the rail, her wet hair matted down, her dress torn, watching Peter intently until she knew he saw her, then mouthing something... Fly, she was saying, Fly.“I CAN’T,” Peter shouted moving his arms helplessly. “I CAN’T, MOLLY!”