“I don't want your money," said she.”

“You want car?' Rena said. 'Artist college? You think I don't know? How you think you pay? So this dress. Pretty dress. Someone gave. But money is . . .' She stopped, struggling to find the words, what money was. Finally, she threw her hands up. 'Money. You want remember, so just remember.”

“Where's Dorothy?" Dad said. "I don't know. She came in, took the money and went. I don't even know how she got in.""What did she say?""She said "shush"" "And what did you say?""I shushed”

“I remember the woman who marched up to the front of a church where I was doing a meeting, put her hands on her hips, and she said, "I want my money back." I said, "What are you talking about?" She said, “I’ve been doing this two weeks, and it doesn’t work. I want my money back!” It was actually all that I could keep from doing to keep from laughing in her face, but she was serious. She actually was, like, giving almost to buy some kind of a new lifestyle that she wanted. Didn’t understand a thing about commitment and dedication and discipline. Two weeks! How many of you know you’re not going to throw a little money in the bucket and get your life that’s been a mess for 50 years turned around in two weeks!?!?”

“No, I don't want your money. The world moves less by money than by what you owe people and what they owe you. I don't like to owe anybody anything, so I keep to myself as much on the lending side as I can.”

“I don't know what's going on with Mum and Dad, but it's weird. Mum keeps asking Dad to do things and he keeps doing them Unfotunately, she hasn't said 'Hand over your money and make your way to Europe!”