Quotes from Harlan Coben

He looks deep into my eyes and I see clarity, or maybe that is one of the things we make ourselves believe at the end. A final false comfort.

Space. Jack said he needed space. And that was all wrong. Never mind that "needing space" was one of those lame, cloying, namby-pamby, New Age we-are-the-world terms that was worse than meaningless—"needing space"—a terrible euphemism for "I'm soooo outta here.

Myron looked a question at Esperanza.

Simon frowned. "Is this the part where I break down and confess?" "Nah, you just listen. I'm talking about the old moral quandary." "Uh-huh." "Question: Would you kill someone? Answer: No, of course not. Question: Would you kill someone to save your child? Answer…?

The car following you," Win said, keeping his eyes on the young joggers, "is an unmarked police vehicle with two uniforms inside. They're parked in the library lot watching us through a telephoto lens." "You mean they're taking our picture right now?" "Probably," Win said. "How's my hair?" Win made an eh gesture with his hand. Myron

Hello, Cassie," Harry said. His voice was stiff. He shifted in his chair. "How've you been, Harry?" His clear blue eyes looked at her in a funny way. This wasn't like him, but it had been nearly two decades. People change. She started to wonder if coming here had been a mistake.

Nah," Hal said. "Tit always comes in with the same limpdicked crew and they leave together. They don't talk to no one else. It's verboten.

Because they were unsure how many days this particular job would take, Ken and Barbie had rented a two-bedroom suite at the sleek skyscraper hotel called the Borgata. The Borgata was supposedly the nicest hotel in Atlantic City, plus it had the added advantage of being away from the Boardwalk, the cesspool strip of gamblers, drug addicts, sinners, carnival barkers, and overall filth. Still

What I'm doing here is trying to explain that all the smarty-pants with their science degrees who believe that religion is not compatible with science are lacking in imagination. That's the problem. Scientists just look through their microscopes. Religionists just look at the words on the page. Neither is seeing the forest in spite of the trees.

I opened the door. Mr. Grady sat at his desk and peered at me over his reading glasses. His suit jacket was off. He wore a short-sleeve dress shirt that probably fit a few years ago, but now it worked like a tourniquet around his neck and torso. He stood and hoisted his belt up. His pants were olive green. His hair was heavily thinning, pulled back and plastered to his scalp. "Mickey

When Elizabeth Bradford fell to her death, my mother may have seen something that appeared innocuous at first. I don't know what. Something bothersome maybe but nothing to get excited about. She continues to work for these people, scrubbing their floors and toilets. And maybe one day she opens a drawer. Or a closet. And maybe she sees something that coupled with what she saw the day Elizabeth Bradford died leads her to conclude that it wasn't an accident after all." Win

Win looked at Myron. Myron raised his eyebrows. Brenda sighed. "Before you two continue your patronizing glances—the ones that say, 'Golly gee, the woman is actually capable of cogitation'—let me add that I'm just giving you a way around the impasse. I don't buy it for a second. It leaves too much unexplained.

People with addictive personalities need an addiction.

The receptionist said, "Mr. Englehardt will see you now." She led them down a corridor with thin plaster walls and a bad paint job. Englehardt sat behind a plastic-wood desk. He was probably late twenties with a slight build and a chin weaker than machine-dispensed coffee. Myron

Should I take him to Benny's?" Wu asked. His voice had a slow, odd cadence to it, like a character from a Peanuts cartoon. Larry

way to nail Cozone. Her cell phone buzzed as

Jessica Culver sat in her family's kitchen, in the very seat she had sat in innumerable times as a child. She should have known better. She should have thought it through, should have come prepared for any occurrence. But what had she done instead? She had gotten nervous. She had hesitated. She had stopped for a drink in the bar below his office. Stupid, stupid.

So now Lorraine did TV interviews. The fascination with her was endless. Her natural likability came out because you simply can't teach that.

She stopped as though out of breath. She hugged her knees to her chest and turned away. Myron looked at Win. Win kept still. The silence pressed against the windows and doors. Win

That was Matthew's grandmother. Nana never avoided a controversy if she could create one.

Gerard moved into the room. The man named Titus pinned him down with his eyes. Gerard sat. Another man, what one might call a hippie, entered the room. He wore a colorful dashiki, a knit cap, and pink-tinted glasses.

can only be as happy as my saddest

George reached Rama IV Road, he hailed a tuk-tuk, the native taxi of Thailand. A cross between a car and a scooter, the tuk-tuk had its good points—it was small, quick, used up next to no fuel, and was open-air. It also got crushed in an accident, had no headroom, and was open-air. The

Guys who lack confidence in so many ways still manage to delude themselves into thinking they are irresistible to all women.