Parting your soup is not a miracle, Bruce. It's a magic trick. A single mom who's working two jobs and still finds time to take her kid to soccer practice, that's a miracle. A teenager who says «no» to drugs and «yes» to an education, that's a miracle. People want me to do everything for them. But what they don't realize is they have the power. You wanna see a miracle, son? Be the miracle.
And, you know, he has reason to trust her. Not because they got married and she’s his wife. But she bore him four children in times when it was not that safe to bear children. She nursed and guarded him when people shot him. She believed in him. He was always her first loyalty for forty years. After you do that maybe tell you a few things you really don’t want to hear.’
Miracles. Events with astronomical odds of occurring...like oxygen turning into gold. I've longed to witness such an event, and yet I neglect that in human coupling millions upon millions of cells compete to create life...for generation after generation...until finally, your mother loves a man Edward Blake, the Comedian, a man she has every reason to hate...and out of that contradiction, against unfathomable odds...it's you. Only you. That emerged. To distill so specific a form... from all that chaos is like turning air into gold. A miracle.