Quotes from Harlan Coben

We get mad at someone for cutting us off in traffic or for taking too long to order at Starbucks or for not responding exactly as we see fit, and we have no idea that behind their facade, they may be dealing with some industrial-strength shit. Their lives may be in pieces. They may be in the midst of incalculable tragedy and turmoil, and they may be hanging on to their sanity by a thread. But

She wanted to cry again. She wanted to do nothing and forget those two calm strangers had ever said anything to her. But she had no choice now, did she? The secret had been thrust in her face. She couldn't put that horse back in the barn, to mix her metaphors. It was a parental paradox probably as old as time: She didn't want to know, but she did want to know. When

Are you a religious man, Win?" "No," I tell him. "May I ask what you believe?" I tell him the same thing I tell any religious worshipper—be they Christian, Jew, Muslim, Hindu: "All religions are superstitious nonsense, except, of course, yours.

A yellow car—nay, a speaker on wheels—cruised by, blaring a rap tune. The bass was set so high that Myron felt the vibrations in his chest. He could not make out the lyrics, but they sounded angry.

She shakes her head. Cops would be better at their jobs if God gave them bigger dicks. You're a cop. Me especially.

Rich guys like me don't go to prison. We—gasp!—pay fines.

No one bothered to glance up at us, as though they'd weighed the effort of sliding their eyes in our direction against the possible benefits and decided, hey, it isn't worth it. The

She finished with the draft and sauntered—Lorraine never walked, she sauntered—toward the corner of the bar where they kept the good stuff. Broome spun around on the stool. There was a line at the buffet. An actual line for the food. On the stage a girl danced with the enthusiasm of a coma patient. The old Neil Diamond classic "Girl, You'll Be a Woman Soon" played through the speaker system. Lorraine

So when did you know for sure?" she asked. "I mean, about his, uh, talents. Do you remember?" He did. Too well. "Freshman year, maybe a month into the school year, a bunch of football players decided to shave Win's head. You know how it is. They thought his hair looked too perfect, what with the straight part and the yellow blond and all that." "Right.

more in tune, more Zen, if you will, than when I force myself to unplug.

Life is like a river and when you change its course, you're responsible for where it goes.

He asks me about that, about how a man who could have done such evil could also be kind. I try to explain to him that human beings are more complex than we know, but of course, I don't really have an answer.

The weak-minded invent invisible gods and gardens and reunions in paradise. Or some, like you, won't buy into that nonsense, but it's still too painful to admit the truth. So you come up with this 'how can we know?' rational.

Ray could be in serious trouble. Ray could be serious trouble. She

Frank Ache stopped. He sniffled, used a once-giant hand to wipe his face. His receding hairline was gone now, though big tufts stayed on the side. His dark olive skin was now the gray of a city street after a rainstorm. "What

The receptionist wore a hideous wig and looked at us as though we'd just plopped out of a dog's behind. I

On the back cargo door, there was an oval magnetic decal with the name of their town written in black, a seemingly perquisite automotive tribal tattoo in suburbia nowadays.

I told her about the photograph, the butterfly emblem, and the light in the basement. When I finished, Ema said, "Whoa." "You say that a lot." "What?" " 'Whoa,'" I said. "Actually, I don't. But hanging around you, well, it seems awfully apropos." I

Myron got out of the car. There was a padlock on one end of the chain. Using his heel, Myron kicked down on it. The lock broke. The chain fell to the ground with a heavy clunk. "We're trespassing," Myron said. "Let's live on the edge, old friend. That's where all the goodies reside." As

His cologne smelled like too many European businessmen jammed into a morning elevator.

married Ginny," he said to Terese. "You remember her?" "Of course. I'm glad to hear you're happy, Mario." He took a beat, reassessing, calming down. "We have three kids. We keep saying we're going to buy a bigger place, but we like it here. And real estate is ridiculous in London." We stood there.

I can't believe you still do this," Myron said. "Are we moralizing again?" Win asked with a smile. "How nice for us." "Let me ask you something." "Oh, please do." "Something I always wanted to know." "My ears are all atwitter." "Putting aside my repugnancy for a moment—" "Not on my account," Win said. "I so enjoy when you're superior.

This pain is better than the pain of giving up on him. A mother doesn't give up on her child. So I can live with the pain. I can't live with giving up.

Win, on the other hand, always carried a gun—at least two, actually, not to mention a prodigious potpourri of concealed weaponry. The man was like a walking Israel. The