“She could.”

“No, Stan. She couldn’t. No judgment. No perspective. Total triumph or total defeat. Total righteousness or total depravity. Total eminence or total ignominy. Total innocence or total complicity. She knew better. But she didn’t. Like us all. Lack us all.”

“No waffling.”

“No, goddamn it all to freakn' hell! Full speed ahead or comatose in the headache room. And when everything came out, she…I even imagined it'd be like voodoo death, but my Sara was always pluck, always hadda be ahead of da curve."

“And her old man?”