Quotes from Anthony Horowitz

Christopher Nolan may be a big-shot director, but he's got his head right up his arse. Not that I care. Eleven weeks shooting. A ton of money. And I go to France.

peering at the world with a malevolence that she wore like mascara.

Nobody's been saved. And more often than not, the killer's got what he wanted. He's inherited the money. He's got rid of his wife. It's very unlikely he's going to kill anyone else.

Was he pursuing some sort of vendetta? Did he mean to have a second go at finishing him off? And why hadn't he told me? The bastard! Didn't he think I'd find out?

Bond had always had a loathing of opera; its absurdly large women, its histrionics, its noise. The fact that Larsen was spending his last night there was somehow fitting. He was on his way from one hell to another.

It was a joke!' There was an extraordinary malevolence in the four words, as if Grunshaw was deliberately overlooking something that was painfully obvious to everyone else. 'I poured maybe two, three inches

That was a long time, an abyss into which Cecily had fallen.

could imagine Akira Anno and Alain Badiou together, talking into the small hours. I'm sure it would have been a barrel of laughs.

I wondered now if I had behaved badly and, worse still, if I had broken something that was precious to me.

You write about me and I will make sure that all hell comes in your direction. I have my life. I have my experiences. And you have no right at all to appropriate my story, turn me into a cultural stereotype, simply to embellish your own view of the world.

Isn't that how marriage works? The days go by and you settle into a routine and piece by piece everything is taken away from you until there are two complete strangers sitting in the same room.

This wasn't a house. It was a movie set. The art, the hardwood floors, the rugs, the grand piano, the Italian lighting and furniture

What struck me more than anything was the malice that ran through the review, the sense that she had enjoyed thinking up her little bons mots and spitting them in my direction. That joke about the stool, for example. Did she really have to do that?

handsome as a child but something had happened to him at some time in his life so that, although he still wasn't ugly, he was curiously unattractive. It was as if he had become a bad photograph of himself.

Victorian novel, perhaps something by Wilkie Collins.

I look on my divorce as a cleansing process. The water runs foul only when you step into the shower.' 'I'm sure.

He paused. 'There is something about the village of Saxby-on-Avon that concerns me,' he went on. 'I have spoken to you before of the nature of human wickedness, my friend. How it is the small lies and evasions which nobody sees or detects but which can come together and smother you like the fumes in a house fire.' He turned and surveyed the surrounding buildings, the shaded square. 'They are all around us.

A book about me? He's putting me in his book? I don't want to be in his fucking book! I want my lawyer in this room. If he puts me in his book, I'll fucking sue him.

naked men and women

Girls might be girls, but not, I thought, borderline psychotics.

Mind you, she was a very sexy little piece … bloody attractive and the toast of the town. Everyone was talking about her. It was only when we got back from the honeymoon that I discovered she was totally self-obsessed and boring!

Murder and cigarettes. That about summed him up.

You're having the party, Charles. Nobody knows who I am and nobody gives a damn. You can manage without me. Just try not to wake me when you come upstairs.

found myself looking at a recipe for Chicken Cordon Bleu, a dish that had revolted me even when I ate it back in the seventies. The ingredients – oil, butter, cheese, cream, breadcrumbs – felt like signposts on the way to a heart attack.