“There were a few other moves of his father's he could do without as well - the sucker punches, the ruffling of the hair, the way of pronouncing the word son, in a slightly deeper voice. This hearty way of talking was getting worse, as if his father were auditioning for the role of Dad, but without much hope.”

“There was his father, looking totally different but exactly the same.“Hey, son,” his dad said, his voice bending in that weird way that America had started to shape it.”

“His blue-black hair fell over his face when he moved, like tiny arrows pointing to pronounced cheeckbones. "Starting to think you were going to bail on me." "Didn't know you were expecting me," she said in what she hoped was a casual voice. He gets sexier every day. "Not Expecting, but hoping. Always hoping”

“Christmas means giving. The Father gave his Son, and the Son gave his life. Without giving there is no true Christmas, and without sacrifice there is no true worship.”

“He liked the way her hand felt in his, liked the simple intimacy of the gesture and the way it said - without the need for words - that they were together.”

“Few sons are like their fathers--most are worse, few better.”