Quotes from Robert Galbraith

He loved his aunt, who'd raised him for significant chunks of his childhood, but extended periods in her company made him feel stifled and suffocated. Her insistence on the smooth passing of counterfeit social coin from hand to hand, while uncomfortable truths were ignored and denied, wore him out.

I'm living for giving the devil his due51

Laymen, in Strike's experience, were obsessed with motive: opportunity topped the professional's list.

stopped to look for it, but the battle to get through the days made it easy to forget that this totally cost-free luxury existed.

Seven and a half million hearts were beating in close proximity in this heaving old city, and many, after all, would be aching far worse than his

Churches are good cover for killers,' said Strike. 'Sex offenders, too.

Yeah, well, she ended up exchanging email addresses with these two. Nothing particularly helpful, but we're looking to establish whether they actually met her - you know, in Real Life," said Wardle. Strange, thought Strike, how that phrase - so prevalent in childhood to differentiate between the fantasy world of play and the dull adult world of fact - had now come to signify the life that a person had outside the internet.

you look gorgeous in this, and I'd like you to know I thought so

A gigantic prehistoric white chalk figure had been cut into the hillside. To Robin, it resembled a stylised leopard, but the realization of what it was supposed to be had already hit her when Strike said: "'Up by the horse. He strangled the kid, up by the horse.

but I can't stand the idea that I'll go to my grave never knowing what happened.

Trouble is, you're just as dead if you're knifed by a self-dramatizing twat as by a professional.

Thanks, anyway,' she said, and he had the feeling that he had disappointed her, that she'd hoped he would make her a promise of the truth, that he would swear upon his honor to do what everyone else had failed to do.

The memory of him telling her she was his best friend caused a little spurt of happiness every time she returned to it . . .

Nobody enjoys accepting that they have reaped what they have sown.

Sixteen unseeing stone of disheveled male slammed into her; Robin was knocked off her feet and catapulted backwards, handbag flying, arms windmilling, towards the void beyond the lethal staircase.

So Ledwell doesn't like our game because 'the game's really more of a metaphor'. We literally based it on your own rules, u pretentious cow.

If you spot anything, or you think of anything I haven't, tell me, won't you?" This was rather thrilling: Robin prided herself on her observational powers; they were one reason she had secretly cherished the childhood ambition that the large man beside her was living.

Very convenient, the way people can only speak in crossword clues from the afterlife.

And he was her very first and it was obvious, you know . . . he knew what he was doing, so it was all that much more important to her. Mad in love, she was. Mad .

she now understood the potential for loneliness that came with a single, driving passion.

Yet here she sat on the sofa, working rather than dealing with the subject that seemed to fill the small flat, pressing against the walls, keeping the atmosphere perpetually stiff with tension. Commentators

But Strike, whose mother had ensured that he'd spent a large portion of his childhood in a fug of incense, dirt and mysticism, said shortly, "Yeah, well. I'm Team Rational.

he seemed sunk in what seemed perpetual gloom.

it is hard to throw off long-established love: hard, but this you must managed somehow