Quotes from Harlan Coben

A friend once told Megan that we are always seventeen years old, waiting for our lives to begin. More than ever, clutching to this man, Megan understood that.

Diamonte shook his head again. He reached down and put his hand on his right boot. Myron had seen him do this before. He liked to sort of pet the boot. Myron had no idea why. Maybe he found the feel of snakeskin soothing. Reminiscent of the womb.

Paige has to come to it on her own. Don't you see that? I didn't 'let her go'"—Ingrid spat out the words—"because I don't love her anymore. I let her go because she's gone—and we can't bring her back. Do you hear me? We can't. Only she can.

I shall drink no wine before its time. Okay, it's time.

I'm sorry, my dead wife mouthed.

Death sucks. Death sucks, mostly because it forces those who stay behind to survive. Death isn't merciful enough to take you too. Instead, death constantly jams down your throat the awful lesson that life does indeed go on, no matter what.

Too often, show muscles meant useless muscles.

Someone once told Hester that memories hurt, the good ones most of all. As she got older, Hester realized just how true that was.

I look at her, then at Tasha, and I feel the wondrous blend of bliss and fear. They--bliss and fear--are constant companions. Rarely does one venture out without the other.

Survival is the thing. The mind will twist to survive. Anything can become normal.

When I looked into her eyes, I could see forever

You learn a lot about relationships when your job, in some ways, is to break them up. But the truth is, almost every relationship has breaking points. Every relationship has fissures and cracks. That doesn't mean it's meaningless or bad or even wrong. We know that everything in our lives is complex and gray. Yet we somehow expect our relationships to never be anything but simple and pure.

He sounded genuine, but Myron knew that meant nothing. People were amazing liars.

Myron, Win, and Esperanza lay sprawled on separate couches like Dalí clocks.

Bir kad?n bir çift pahal? ayakkab? sat?n ald???nda bu parayla açl?ktan nefesi kokan birine yard?m etmeyi düÅŸünmez bile. … Rahat bir hayat süreceÄŸiz diye hepimiz öldürürüz.

Yvonne started humming the QuickGo jingle, one of those torturous tunes that enters through the ear canal and proceeds to ricochet around the skull in search of an escape route it will never find.

There are two people in a tennis match. One ends up winning, one ends up losing. And I think the pleasure comes not from winning. I think the pleasure comes from beating someone." She scrunched up her face like a very puzzled child. "Why is that something we admire? We call them winners, but when you think about it, they really get off on making someone else lose. Why is that something we admire so much?" "That's

The rule of thumb in student files seemed to be, If you have nothing negative to say, don't say anything at all.

Maya had one of those sudden "pow" moments sneak up on her, the ones all parents experience, when you are simply overwhelmed by your love for your child, when you are awestruck and you can feel something rising inside of you and you just want to hold onto it and yet, at the same time, that caring, that fear of losing this person, scares you into near paralysis. How, you wonder, will you ever relax again, knowing how unsafe the world is? Lily

When he finished telling her about the kidnapping, Esperanza's first words were an incredulous, "Win has a mother?" "Yep." Pause. "There goes my spawned-from-a-satanic-egg theory.

he needed the woods. When he was away from these trees for too long, he felt as though he was suffocating, as though his lungs were ready to completely shut down.

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.

There was a Dana Phelps with a son named Brandon, but they didn't live on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. The Phelpses resided in a rather tony section of Greenwich, Connecticut. Brandon's father had been a big-time hedge fund manager. Beaucoup bucks. He died when he was forty-one. The obituary gave no cause of death. Kat looked for a charity—people often requested donations made to a heart disease or cancer or whatever cause—but there was nothing listed.

You want to put people in neat categories, make them monsters or angels, but it almost never works that way. You work in the gray and frankly that kinda sucks. The extremes are so much easier.