Quotes from Harlan Coben

A child comes out hardwired. That was what you learned as a parent—that your kid is who he is and what he is and that you, as a parent, greatly overstate your importance in his development. A dear friend once told her that being a parent is like being a car mechanic—you can repair the car and take care of the car and keep the car on the road, but you can't fundamentally change the car. If a sports car drives into your garage for repairs, it isn't driving out an SUV.

Aqua?" He stopped mid-stride and spun toward her. His eyes were wide and just past the northern border of sanity. She had seen him talk to himself before, had witnessed a few of his paces and tantrums, but she had never seen him look so . . . was it agitated? No. It seemed more than that. It seemed pained. "Why?

Tessie sat down next to her. "When you're young, you think you have all the answers. You're right wing or you're left wing and the other side is a bunch of idiots. You know. When you get a little older, though, you start to more and more see the grays. Now I understand that true idiots are the ones who are certain they have the answers. It is never that simple. Do you know what I mean?" "I

For a wonderful guy who is usually so damn perceptive, you can be pretty obtuse sometimes.

In the dream he could see Burt Wesson bearing down on him. He could see the gleeful, almost giddy violence in Burt's face as he drew closer and closer. In the dream, Myron had plenty of time to step out of harm's way. Too much time really. But in this dream—as in many—Myron could not move. His legs would not respond, his feet mired in thick, dream-world quicksand while the inevitable approached. But

They stopped in front of a doorway. Myron looked inside. Win's mother lay in bed. Exhaustion emanated from her. Her head was back on the pillow as though it were too heavy to lift. An IV bag was attached to her arm. She looked at Myron and mustered a gentle smile. Myron smiled back. With his peripheral vision, he saw Victoria signal to the nurse. The nurse stood and moved past him. Myron stepped inside. The door closed behind him. Myron

I'm not saying there's no such thing as right or wrong. But I'm saying what may work for some doesn't work for others. You talked before about your mother confusing memories with illusion. But that's okay. That's how she survives. Some people need illusions. And some people, like you, need answers." Kat

Normally I would ask for a taste," he said. "But you need it more than I do. You deserve another chance, and this world doesn't like to give that to people anymore, so if you need anything else from me, you let me know, okay?" She felt tears come to her eyes. "You're the best, Tim." "I know, right? Talk soon.

Scratch a guy who always talks about what a winner he is or how he's "self-made" or how he's pulled himself up by the bootstraps, and underneath you'll always find a little boy who had everything handed to him.

The eight years had not been kind to Sheriff Lowell, but then again, he hadn't been Mel Gibson to begin with. He was a mangy mutt of a man with features so extra-long hangdog that he made Nixon look as though he'd gotten a nip and tuck. The end of his nose was bulbous to the nth degree. He kept taking out a much-used hanky, carefully unfolding it, rubbing his nose, carefully refolding it, jamming it deep into his back pocket. Linda

Most religious people don't believe the dogma, Ash. We take from it what we want

Female beauty gets to me. I don't think I'm alone in that. It gets to me like a work of art gets to me.

Making friends?" Tripp asked. "I'm a people person," Adam said. "You know he's the VP of the board, right?" "I must remember to genuflect next time I see him," Adam said. "I'm president." "In that case, I better get some kneepads." Tripp

chances. I want to make sure that Dan Mercer never hurts anyone ever again." "By killing

She had always been fervently anti-gun. Like most rational people she was scared of what a weapon like this could do lying around the house. But Cram had put it succinctly yesterday: Hadn't her children been threatened? The trump card. Grace

Memories aren't kept on some microchip in the skull or filed away in a cabinet somewhere deep in our cranium. Memories are something we reconstruct and piece together. They are fragments we manufacture to create what we think occurred or even simply hope to be true. In short, our memories are rarely accurate. They are biased reenactments. Shorter still: We all see what we want to see.

The man headed to a steel door. It buzzed. The man opened it and went inside. It took about five minutes. A bald guy with spectacles entered the room. He was nervous. Big Cyndi started giving him the eye. She licked her lips. She cupped what might have been her breasts. Myron shook his head, afraid she'd drop to her knees and pantomime lord-knew-what when the door mercifully opened. The man with the sunglasses poked his head out.

They always say that. 'One was a woman. A mother.' It's such sexist crap, isn't it? A civilian is a civilian. The men were fathers. No one ever says that. 'A mother and a woman.' Like that makes it worse than a father and a man.

Go fuck yourself," she said. Win rose. "Undeniably a better option than present company.

Why do you keep asking about Win?" "I actually came to the club to find him," Bucky said. "But I think it's better this way." "What way?" "Talking to you first. Maybe after Ã¢â'¬Â¦ well, we'll see. Shouldn't hope for too much." Myron nodded. "I have no idea what you're talking about." Bucky

Thorpe's office was decorated in Early American Douchebag, all white and chrome with a zebra-skin throw rug in the center

careless. He was out in the open. It would be

Because it sounds like he's trying to justify his actions.

His world was wobbly but back on the axis.