“driving at the speed limit--hideous thought.”

“He (Rico) moved to look at the speedometer.“Come on, Olivia. The speed limit is 70. You’re doing 95, and this car is ticket bait. I don’t want to risk getting stopped.”“I’m traveling with the flow. This is I-95. If I go the speed limit I’ll stand out.”He scowled.“Okay.” She slowed the Corvette.“Thanks,” he muttered. “You always drive like this?”“Yep, I grew up in Texas. Speed limits there are only a suggestion.”

“Goddammit, Bobby, break the speed limit!”

“Wasn't it his right to listen to opera, read poetry and adventure novels, go to Europe every couple of months for some reason or another, and drive his Porsche over the speed limit until he found out who he was?”

“You will begin to touch heaven, Jonathan, in the moment that you touch perfect speed. And that isn’t flying a thousand miles an hour, or a million, or flying at the speed of light. Because any number is a limit, and perfection doesn’t have limits. Perfect speed, my son, is being there.”

“Heaven is not a place, and it is not a time. Heaven is being perfect. -And that isn't flying a thousand miles an hour, or a million, or flying at the speed of light. Because any number is a limit, and perfection doesn't have limits. Perfect speed, my son, is being there.”