Quotes from Harlan Coben

She opened the door. His office was small and rain-pavement gray. He was bent over his desk, his head lowered.

A subway car is a microcosm of our planet. You saw all nationalities, creeds, genders, persuasions. You saw public displays of affection and arguments. You heard music and voices, laughter and tears. There were rich people in business suits (often Simon himself) and there were panhandlers. You were all equals on the train. You all paid the same fare. You all had the same right to the same seats.

A tall woman in a blue business suit and fancy sunglasses strolled purposefully down the sidewalk. Myron smiled at her, and she returned it. He would have preferred a faint or even a small swoon, but you can't have everything.

The oven was a prop, strictly for show, like a politician's Bible. Something

Mike did not reply, but both of them knew. The truth was, horrible as it might seem, that their interests and the Hills' interests might no longer be in harmony. Neither one of them wanted to say it. But they both knew. "Let's

The danger of video games was that they shut the world out. The beauty of video games was that they shut the world out.

It'll be great," she continued, forcing pseudojocularity into the cautious tone. "I'll fly home on weekends. Or you can fly out here sometimes. Say, you can do some recruiting out here, nab some West Coast clients. It'll be great." Silence.

Sometimes you get more ants with honey, but you should always pack a can of Raid.

You can't ride two horses with one behind.

Adam had always found him to be mild-mannered and well-meaning, if not somewhat didactic and dull, but Adam had also noticed of late that Cal Gottesman's behavior had grown increasingly odd in direct proportion to his son's improvement.

Myron's car climbed up past the nouveau riche mansions, so expansive they appeared to have been taking some sort of growth hormone.

I told her about my visit to the Plan B Go-Go Lounge. The waitress came and brought our food, but neither one of us noticed. When I finished, Ema said, "I won't even bother with the 'whoa.' This is beyond whoa. It's like whoa on steroids. It's like whoa raised to the tenth power." The

They walked in the comfortable silence of two men who had known each other a long time and very well.

The mixing of metaphors was making Myron dizzy. "Sure. I don't want to cause any problems.

downstairs, she heard

Home was a secure haven for that—a familial cone of honesty, if you will.

Most people assumed that the vast majority of destructive trolls harassing people were unemployed losers furiously posting from Mommy's basement, but more often than not, they were educated, employed, financially comfortable enough.

I didn't say I wanted him to back out. I said I wanted to renegotiate. Renegotiate, Win repeated as though the word tasted vinegary.

Then everything is copasetic," Fester said. "Except, well, without a camera, you can't do George Queller tomorrow. Don't worry. I'll find somebody else.

He hurt. He truly believed no one could love him, and no matter who you are, that hurts. It made you insecure. It made you want to hide and build fences.

Sleazy sex—the great unifier. "You're on break, Anthony. Take ten." Anthony headed toward the door. The sun was fading, but it still made him blink. That was always true with these joints, even at night. It is a different dark in strip clubs. You go outside and you have to blink that dark away like Dracula on a bender. He

But it's not up to you to decide what's safe," she said. "It's not up to me either." "Don't tell me," Ash said. "It's in God's hands." She smiled at him. It was, as always, even with the strange hair color and new cut, beatific. The smile struck his heart with a gentle boom.

Wilde loved those he cared about fiercely and protectively—and yet he couldn't live with them or be with them on a steady basis. It is a paradox, a contradiction, and yet that is what most of us are, when we think about it. We want to make people consistent and predictable and simple, but they never are.

there is something so personal about penmanship, especially hers, the purity and consistency in her cursive, the beauty and the lost art and the individualism