Quotes from Harlan Coben

Man," Loren said, "you are good. What other nuggets did you offer? 'Time heals all wounds'?

Life was random, choosing to coddle some and destroy others without plan or justification. That was just how things worked. Accept it and move on.

Granite Man gave Myron more hard eyes, though his were more relaxed, as though Myron amused him in the way a little kitty nipping at his pant leg might. He didn't stand, choosing instead to stare at Myron and crack his knuckles one at a time. Myron

Her words didn't resonate the way the truth does, but Myron didn't argue the point. He scanned his Client Wall and tried to bring his focus around to Lamar Richardson's visit. "So the case is closed." She smiled. "Like legs in a nunnery.

Chick did that thing where you look the person in one eye, then the other, then back to the first. Myron just stood there and let him. You don't judge a guy by his appearance. Win was the walking, talking embodiment of that. The guy was also hurting. You could see that too. He might be a vainglorious asshat, but his son had been snatched away from him ten years ago. You could see that in Chick's face somehow, despite all he tried to do to cover it up. So

You have very few perfect moments in your life, moments you want to put in a box and stick on the top shelf so that when you're alone, you can take the box down and open it up again. That

When the putt dropped into the cup, there was no polite golf clap. The crowd erupted like Vesuvius in the last days.

Modern man, more afraid of embarrassment sometimes than safety, often ignores it at his own peril.

You are looking at your child and it is an ordinary moment, not like they are onstage or hitting a winning shot, just sitting there and you look at them and you know that they are your whole life and that moves you and scares you and makes you want to stop time.

It had, of course, embarrassed him. And then—equally, of course—it pleased him to no end. When you're young you don't get how great it is to be loved unconditionally. Now

Windsor Horne Lockwood III, president of the prestigious investment firm of Lock-Horne Securities in midtown Manhattan.

The frame was one of those faux bronze numbers you get at Rite-Aid or a similar drugstore-cum-frame store.

She looked at him, shook her head. "No man has ever loved me like you did." Silence. Myron held back the "what-about-Stoner" remark.

It was dark out. Ray debated whether he should just head home and go to bed or hit a bar so seedy it was called Tetanus. Tough call when you have so many options. He

Myron started to cross the room with his hand extended, but Susan Lex held up her palm in a stop gesture. Granite Man sat forward, nearly leaning into Myron's path. He gave Myron a small shake of the head, which was no easy task when you have no neck. Myron stayed where he was.

It hurt so damn much that now something primordial wouldn't let it happen again. I

The stone sign in front of what looked like a new development read THE PREMA ESTATES. The area reeked of new money. The streets were well lit. The lawns couldn't have been greener without using an industrial-strength spray paint. The landscaping was almost too polished, like a show that had over-rehearsed. The sprawling mansions were brick and stone, trying to look old and stately but missing.

Everyone is their own universe—a life, a dream, a hope, a sorrow, a joy, a surprise, a revelation, a story with a beginning, a middle, and an end—even when they simply walk by you on the street.

Where were you before she called?" "At a wedding." "Drink much?" "More than I should have." "Were you drunk when she called?" "I probably would have passed a Breathalyzer." "But you were, shall we say, feeling it?" "Yes." "Ironic, don't you think?" "Like an Alanis Morissette song," he said. "I have a question for you.

For one thing, Cole could have passed for Win's brother—blond, patrician-featured, well-to-do family. While everyone else in the picture was scraggly and long haired, Cole was freshly shaven with a conservative haircut, his one sixties concession being sideburns that went down a tad too far. Hardly your Hollywood-cast, radical leftist. But as Myron had learned from Win, looks could often be deceiving. He

Your fellow soldiers had to know that you had their back. That was rule one, lesson one, and above all else.

The fathers in the corner had a group conniption: "Are you kidding me, ref?" "Bad call!" "You gotta be blind!" "That's BS!" "Call them both ways, ref!" The

Wheels were beginning to churn in Myron's head. Never a good thing. "Any other messages?

Welcome to my humble abode," he said. He offered her a drink. She passed. He had laid out finger sandwiches. Wendy took one just to be polite. The finger sandwich was awful enough to make her wonder whether the moniker was also an ingredient list. Cherston was already jabbering on about his classmates. "We