Olive Snook: Yesterday, a farrier named Lucas Shoemaker was found dead. Trampled.
Emerson Cod: Why should I care about a dude that sells fur coats?
Olive Snook: Not a furrier, a farrier. Heir.
Emerson Cod: Fair-rier?
Olive Snook: It's a blacksmith. Puts shoes on horses.
Emerson Cod: Don't try to act like that's a word everybody knows.
Charlotte 'Chuck' Charles: Do you think dying has made me morbid?
Narrator: The Pie Maker had grown accustomed to the feeling his heart made when it looked out his eyes and saw her sleeping in the next bed.
Olive Snook: I'm a pack rat of sorts myself. Of emotions. Not so much with actual things.
Ned: You're supposed to be dead. You're pushing your luck.
Charlotte 'Chuck' Charles: Yeah, well, luck pushed me first.
Ned: Everything we do is a choice. Oatmeal or cereal. Highway or side streets. Kiss her or keep her. We make choices and we live with the consequences. If someone gets hurt along the way we ask for forgiveness. It's the best anyone can do.
Emerson Cod: What got thee to a nunnery?
Olive Snook: Oh, Emerson. You really want to know?
Emerson Cod: Not especially. That was just my attempt at polite wee talk. Moment's passed, so let's talk compensation.
