Quotes from Harlan Coben

It was easy to trust your own eyes, wasn't it? We all did. We weren't crazy. The other guy was. That was part of the human condition. We understand our own perspective too well. So step outside it. The

The man made a huffing noise and looked away. Norm shrugged. "You'd think he never saw a Jew before." "He probably hasn't," Win said. Norm looked back over at the ruddy-faced man. "Look!" Zuckerman said, pointing to his head. "No horns!" Even Win smiled. Zuckerman

You die. It's over. But right now, I'm not sure.

Myron had two semicontradictory thoughts about Miami. One, the weather was so beautiful he should move down here. Two, sun—there was too much sun down here. Everything was too bright. Even in the airport Myron found himself squinting. This

Politics and the press: two cherished institutions that spoke with tongues so forked they could double for fine dinnerware

They walked between two restaurants, Ruby Tuesday and McDonald's. The McDonald's had the most garish Ronald McDonald statue sitting in a booth. Ronald had a big smile and was too brightly painted and looked as though it might wink as they passed. Myron wondered whether it gave kids nightmares because, when Myron was unsure of his next move, he wondered about things like that. Kitty

Before we go forward, we have to look back.

New Jersey was hard to define because it was a hodgepodge. Up north, it was the suburbs of New York City. To the southwest, it was the suburbs of Philadelphia. Those two major cities drained resources and attention from New Jersey's own urban centers, leaving Newark and Camden and the like sucking for life like a retiree with an oxygen tank at an Atlantic City casino. The suburbs were lush and green. The cities were destitute and concrete. And so it goes.

Myron?" He turned back to Clip. The old man was standing now. His eyes looked moist. "Have a good game tonight," he said softly. "It's only a game, after all. Remember that." Myron nodded, discomfited yet again by Clip's demeanor. He jogged ahead and caught up with Win.

PSA: The rich are very good at using generosity to get what they want.

And what kind of warped mind names a kid Tito Marshall? Bad enough to go through life with a moniker like Myron. But Tito Marshall? No wonder the kid had turned out as a neo-Nazi. Probably started out as a virulent anti-Communist. Victoria

Win was still in hiding. Myron had only gotten one message from him in the past six weeks—an e-mail with a short, simple message: You are in my heart. But Yu and Mee are in my pants. Win. Terese

But you know what's interesting, Ray?" "No, Fester, why don't you tell me what's interesting?

Elena looked in her rearview mirror and tried on a sympathetic, we're-all-in-this-together smile. Meh. This part would be a pain in the ass. Cops and egos. Tough recipe. Add in a dollop of territorial bullshit and customary dick swinging plus the rarity of landing a single murder case let alone a double murder, and Elena expected a shitshow of epic proportions.

I asked for Nigel Manderson. The bartender didn't blink. I knew this was useless. I turned and shouted out, "Which one of you is Nigel Manderson?" A man wearing a baroque ruffled white shirt with squared-off shoulders raised his glass. He looked like he'd just walked out of a Spandau Ballet video. "Cheers, mate." The

Memories always sting, don't they? The good ones most of all.

We think all religions are crazy—except our own.

sweater. He had a huge head, tiny shoulders, and a spare tire that was the envy of the Michelin man—an hourglass figure with all the time run out. He was big and puffy and the kind of bald where the top of the head looks like it exploded through the hair during an earthquake. Frank

and four grandsons. "So I have studied all the 'ends justifying the means' type rationales. I did that here too, trying to defend my actions, but there is no way around the fact that my testimony sullied the trial. Worse, I sullied how I saw myself.

On the screen, Lily looked up from the couch toward the maybe-man. When she smiled widely at him, Maya felt a rock take form in her chest. Lily wasn't good with strangers. So whoever this was, whoever was wearing that familiar forest green shirt . . 

He loved her. She loved him. Simple but there you have it. You both have careers and you raise kids and there are victories and defeats and you just sort of coast along, living your life, the days long, the years short, and then every once in a while, you remember to pull up and look at your partner, your life partner, really look at the one who travels down the lonely road right by your side, and you realize how much you are in this together.

Believing in nurture is like believing in God. You might be wrong, but you might as well cover your bases.

An awkward impasse. No one knew exactly how to say good-bye. A wave? A handshake? A kiss?

As we got closer to Notre Dame, I said, "Would you be embarrassed if I rounded my shoulders, dragged my left leg, and shouted, 'Sanctuary!