Michael had bolstered Eddie's confidence enough that he felt comfortable putting the boss's message in his own words.
"Let me explain something to you, all right?" he said to a young guy Momo had helped develop, a big strapping Sicilian kid who maybe, come to think of it, had never had anyone sit him down and explain the American ways of doing things. "This thing of ours," Eddie said, "it looks like it's got to do with money. You do jobs, you kick a cut to the guy above you, who kicks a cut to next guy, et cetera and so forth, and the guys at the very top take care of thing with the cops and keep the arrests to a minimum. Simple, right? And on some level it is. Everybody talks all the time about money, so you'd be forgiven if you thought that was the point. But it ain't the point. It's about favors. It's like that joke, maybe you heard it. A little boy and a little girl are sittin' in the bathtub takin' a bath. The girl looks at the boy's prick and asks if she can touch it. Hell, no, the boy says. Look what happened to yours! Oh yeah? says the girl, pointin' to her pussy. Well, my ma told me that with one of these, I can get as many of those little things as I want. See, in our world, money's just a prick. But favors- givin' favors out, callin' 'em in, everything- favors are pussy"

Ladies and Gentlemen of the class of ’04...

If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be
it....

The long term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering
experience…

I will dispense this advice...
now...

...Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth; oh nevermind; you will not
understand the power and beauty of your youth until they have faded.
But trust me, in 20 years you’ll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can’t grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked….You’re not as fat as you imagine...

Don’t worry about the future; or worry, but know that worrying is as
effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing
bubblegum...

The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind; the kind that blindside you at 4pm on some idle Tuesday...

Do one thing everyday that scares you...

Sing...

Don’t be reckless with other people’s hearts, don’t put up with people who are reckless with yours....

Floss...

Don’t waste your time on jealousy; sometimes you’re ahead, sometimes you’re behind…the race is long, and in the end, it’s only with yourself....

Remember the compliments you receive, forget the insults; if you succeed in doing this, tell me how...

Keep your old love letters, throw away your old bank statements...

Stretch...

Don’t feel guilty if you don’t know what you want to do with your life…the most interesting people I know didn’t know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives, some of the most interesting 40 year olds I know still don’t...

Get plenty of calcium...

Be kind to your knees, you’ll miss them when they’re gone...

Maybe you’ll marry, maybe you won’t, maybe you’ll have children,maybe
you won’t, maybe you’ll divorce at 40, maybe you’ll dance the funky
chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary…what ever you do, don’t
congratulate yourself too much or berate yourself either – your
choices are half chance, so are everybody else’s...

Enjoy your body, use it every way you can…don’t be afraid of it, or what other people
think of it, it’s the greatest instrument you’ll ever own...

Dance…
even if you have nowhere to do it but in your own living room...

Read the directions, even if you don’t follow them...

Do NOT read beauty magazines, they will only make you feel ugly...

Get to know your parents, you never know when they’ll be gone for good...

Be nice to your siblings; they are the best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future...

Understand that friends come and go,but for the precious few you should hold on...

Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle because the older you get, the more you need the people you knew when you were young...

Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard; live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft...

Travel...

Accept certain inalienable truths, prices will rise, politicians will philander, you too will get old, and when you do you’ll fantasize that when you were young prices were reasonable, politicians were noble and children respected their elders.
Respect your elders...

Don’t expect anyone else to support you...

Maybe you have a trust fund, maybe you have a wealthy spouse; but you never know when either one
might run out....

Don’t mess too much with your hair, or by the time you're 40, it will
look 85....

Be careful whose advice you buy, but, be patient with those who
supply it.
Advice is a form of nostalgia, dispensing it is a way of
fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the
ugly parts and recycling it for more than
it’s worth....

...But trust

The ruins of the ancient Greek city glistened in the summer moonlight. Amidst them, Guiliano sat on the crumbling stone steps of the temple dreaming of America.

He felt an overwhelming melancholy. The old dreams had vanished. He had been so full of hope for his future and the future of Sicily; he had believed so fully in his immortality. So many people had loved him. Once he had been their blessing, and now, it seemed to Guiliano, he was their curse. Against all reason he felt deserted. But he still had Aspanu Pisciotta. And there would come a day when the two of them together would bring all those old loves and old dreams alive again. After all, it had been only the two of them in the beginning.

The moon disappeared and the ancient city vanished into darkness; now the ruins looked like skeletons sketched on the black canvas of night. Out of that blackness came the hiss of shifting small stones and earth, and Guiliano rolled his body back between the marble columns, his machine pistol ready. The moon sailed serenely out of the clouds, and he saw Aspanu Pisciotta standing in the wide ruined avenue that led down from the acropolis.

Pisciotta walked slowly down the rubbled path, his eyes searching, his voice whispering Turi's name. Guiliano, hidden behind the temple columns, waited until Pisciotta went past, then stepped out behind him. "Aspanu, I've won again," he said, playing their childish game. He was surprised when Pisciotta whirled around in terror.

Guiliano sat down on the steps and put his gun aside. "Come and sit awhile," he said. "You must be tired, and this may be the last chance we can talk to each other alone."

Pisciotta said, "We can talk in Mazara del Vallo, we will be safer there."

Guiliano said to him, "We have plenty of time and you'll be spitting blood again if you don't take a rest. Come on now, sit beside me." And Guiliano sat on the top stone step.

He saw Aspanu unsling his gun and thought it was to lay it aside. He stood and reached out his hand to help Aspanu up the steps. And then he froze, for the first time in seven years caught unaware.

Pisciotta's mind crumbled with all the terrors of what Guiliano would ask it they spoke. He would ask, "Aspanu, who is the Judas of our band? Aspanu, who warned Don Croce? Aspanu, who led the carabinieri to Castelvetrano? Aspanu, why did you meet with Don Croce?" And most of all, he was afraid that Guiliano would say, "Aspanu, you are my brother." It was that final terror that made Pisciotta pull the trigger.

The Stream of bullets blew away Guiliano's hand and shattered his body. Pisciotta, horrified at his own action, waited for him to fall. Instead Guiliano came slowly down the steps, blood pouring from his wounds. Filled with superstitious dread, Pisciotta turned and fled, and he could see Guiliano running after him and then he saw Guiliano fall.

But Guiliano, dying, thought he was still running. The shattered neutrons of his brain tangled and he thought he was running through the mountains with Aspanu seven years before, the fresh water flowing out of ancient Roman cisterns, the smell of strange flowers intoxicating, running past the holy saints in their padlocked shrines, and he cried out, as on that night, "Aspanu, I believe," believing in his happy destiny, in the true love of his friend. Then the kindness of death delivered him of the knowledge of his betrayal and his final defeat. He died in his dream.