“He wondered how many new starts a person was entitled to, how many times one could say it was the other person's fault and truly believe it.”

“Sorry, I said to myself, wondering how many times in my marriage I'd said that, how many times I'd meant it, how many times Claire had actually believed it, and, most important, how many times the utterance had any impact whatsoever on our dispute. What a lovely chart one could draw of this word Sorry.”

“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"?”

“How many others are out there? How many other lives are hidden, and hearts are seeking? How many would give anything in the world to be held by the person they love?”

“How many other lives are hidden, and hearts are seeking? How many would give anything in the world to be held by the person they love?”

“I hoped that she knew the truth--that it wasn't her fault, or my fault, or even his fault. No matter how many times I wanted to believe it was. This was my life, and this is how it was ending.”