"We live on a rock. There ain't no rhyme. There ain't no reason. We live on a rock, just one of many, hurtling around in some big cosmic jambalaya.
Now you wanna get questiony, that's your prerogative. My ma took me to a big loud church every Sunday. She squeezed her eyes shut, she pressed her rosary beads to her lips, and she prayed for good things for those she loved. But cancer took two of her sisters. Her husband couldn't make a move without a belly full of gin. Her youngest son turned to a life of crime. And her oldest--me--is a nasty sonofabitch who can’t get out of third gear without a snarl.
So who was she talking to every Sunday? And why wasn’t he answering? I will tell you why. Because we live on a rock, just one of many. There ain't no answers. There's just this. And all you can really hope to do is find a couple of people who will make the seventy or eighty odd years we get to live on this sweet swinging sphere remotely tolerable."
~ Michael Imperioli ~ Life on Mars