I can't wait to tell him one day," she says with a giggle. "'Hey, Chaz, guess what? We knew where your precious car was all the time.' I'd like to take a photo of his face. What do you think?" "I reckon I'd smile really nicely in the photo," Santangelo says behind me, yanking me out of the way, "knowing that you'll be keeping it under your pillow for the rest of your life.

You can't go around feeling too much.

Because being part of him isn't just anything. It's kind of everything.

When one is silent, those around speak even more.

Some of us weren't born for rewards, Froi. We were born for sacrifices.

It's too late. Seventeen-year-olds don't need fathers. Oh god. I'm thirty-four years old and I need a father. I can't even begin to think what my daughter needs.

If there was one weapon he had against these savages, it was not acknowledging their existence.