Quotes from Karin Slaughter

Paul looked at the man for the first time since he'd walked through the door. "Should I go punch him in the nose?" "Yes." "Will you take me to the hospital when he punches me back?" "Yes." Paul smiled, but only because she was smiling, too. "So, how does it feel to be untethered?

the gate as just another gate. She reminded

His voice had changed again. He liked this. He liked seeing her squirm. He was absorbing her fear like a succubus. Lydia heard an echo of the last words Paul Scott had ever spoken to her: Tell me you want this.

end when they die. It only gets stronger." He winked

The lust and fucking like rabbits and letting your life fall to shit so you can be around him - that's passion. It's borderline obsession. And it always burns itself out.

that police captain, Jacob Mayhew, dropped

All you could do was wait for death to make you inconsequential. Frank

They had been arguing about something that had seemed desperately important to Claire at the time but now she couldn't remember the topic or even when the argument had occurred. Last week? Last month? She had known Paul for eighteen years, been married to him for almost as long. There wasn't much left that they could argue about with any conviction.

That was how it was with abusive parents. They only remembered the good times and you only remembered the bad.

The fingerprinting was nothing like on TV. Instead of ink, Claire had to press her fingers onto a filthy glass plate so the swirls could be digitized into a computer. Her swirls, apparently, were very faint. It took several tries.

Press evenly," the praying mantis said, chewing off the wings of a fly.

He had never brought home a school report and watched his mother smile. The clay ashtray he'd made in kindergarten had been one of sixteen Mrs. Flannigan received on Mother's Day. All the Christmas gifts under the tree were labeled "for a girl" or "for a boy." The evening Will graduated high school, he'd looked out at the crowd of cheering families and seen only strangers.

As I expected, Paul immediately apologized for not asking me whether or not he could date Claire. He is nothing if not a good mimic of appropriate behaviors. Had we been in person rather than on the telephone, I am certain he would've dropped to bended knee as he asked for my permission. But he wasn't, so it was his voice that conveyed the respect and feeling. Conveyed.

I told her, "I'm Wayne, and this is—

Claire's mug shot was taken against a white background with a ruler that was clearly off by an inch. She wondered aloud why she wasn't asked to hold a sign with her name and inmate number. "Photoshop template," the praying mantis said in a bored tone that indicated the question was not a new one.

As your mother has said, Paul could be a belt in a doughnut factory, he is so good at sticky, emotional conveyances.

the Brits were constantly complaining about America, even as they greedily consumed American products and culture—and said that the public outpouring of grief over Diana's death had forever altered the way that his people could acceptably respond to tragedy.

Ipak, nije mogla a da se ne zapita zašto muškarac kojeg želi nije slobodan, a onoga koji to jest ne želi. I tako se nastavila njezina misija da si život pretvori u televizijsku sapunicu.

And Helen's, too. The last time Lydia had talked to her mother, Helen had said, "Don't make me choose between you and your sister." To which Lydia had responded, "I think you already have.

Gallimaufry: a hodgepodge; a confused jumble of various people or things; any absurd medley.

She asked him, "Everything all right?" "It's good right now." He rubbed her back with his hand. "What did the shrink say?" Claire waited until the bartender had returned to his corner. "She said that I'm not being forthcoming about my emotions." "That's not like you at all." They smiled at each other. Another old argument that wasn't worth having anymore.

Time to wake up." Rick muted the TV when a commercial came on. He slipped on his reading glasses and asked, "What is the groundnut better known as?" Lydia carefully rolled onto her back so the cat wouldn't be disturbed. "The peanut.

What a rapist takes from a woman is her future. The person she is going to become, who she is supposed to be, is gone. In many ways, it's worse than murder, because he has killed that potential person, eradicated that potential life, yet she still lives and breathes, and has to figure out another way to thrive.

But they soften you in ways you can't imagine. It's so unexpected. They just smooth out your hard lines.