“Progo,' Meg asked. 'You memorized the names of all the stars - how many are there?'How many? Great heavens, earthling. I haven't the faintest idea.'But you said your last assignment was to memorize the names of all of them.'I did. All the stars in all the galaxies. And that's a great many.'But how many?'What difference does it make? I know their names. I don't know how many there are. It's their names that matter.”

“I often wonder how many prayers flooded the gates of Heaven that day. How many Christians, or otherwise, called on the Lord? How many Jews looked for the Almighty? How many others called, by whatever name, on the one true God? How many nonbelievers, if only for a moment, and if only to ask how this could happen, believed in Him and called on His name: "Jesus"?”

“I don't know yet what we're called, or if we have a name. I know so little and need to learn so much. I'm many things, detective, and all of them love you.”

“It doesn't matter how many times I've been called a name, it still hurts - and it still always comes as such a surprise that I never know how to respond. Or maybe I do, but I'm afraid.”

“I can't believe how many students don't read. They want to be writers, but they haven't read anything at all. They have looked at book covers, which usually allows them enough expertise to sneer, but they haven't read the books. How many young poets "don't like" poetry? How many fiction writers don't know Lehane from Nevada Barr?”

“There are so many people in the world, and I want to know them all but I don’t even know my next-door neighbor’s name.”