Quotes from Jeff Lindsay

But children?" I said. "I could never do this to children.

unknown to everyone but Deborah, I was a twisted homicidal sicko myself.

I am a very neat monster.

Somewhere far away, sitting on a cloud perhaps, there must be some whimsical dark deity that really likes me, because just before I let frustration push me into stupidity, I dimly hear the voices of the soccer players, calling out in three languages to look out, mister! And before I can even realize that I am the only mister in the area, the soccer ball thumps into my head, bounces up into the air, and then rolls across the street. I

Deborah led me away from it and over to the far end of the room. "Dexter," she said, "promise me you didn't kill this guy.

Still, if I was really relying on luck, I might as well roll the dice. I stood up, trying to remember the name of the old Roman goddess of chance—Fortuna? It didn't matter. I was quite sure she only spoke Latin, and I didn't. I

And then I felt a strange stirring inside, a kind of surging fulfillment, a feeling that things were just the way they should be, now and evermore, world without end; that what was brought together here must never be rent asunder.

Deborah was the only person on earth who knew what I really was, and even though she was still getting used to the idea, I had thought she understood the very careful boundaries set up by Harry, and understood, too, that I would never cross them.

But a very large piece of my carefulness had always been listening to the subtle whisperings of the Dark Passenger, and it was still being strangely shy about sharing its thoughts.

I stepped toward the car, trying to plan what to do, which was impossible because I did not know what they wanted, or even who they were. It was no longer believable that it was merely a random crazy—not if he knew where I lived. But who was it? Who had any reason to act like this? Among the living, I mean, because there were plenty of former victims who might have loved to come after me, but they were all far beyond any sort of action at all, other than decomposition. I

And so, overcome by remorse and the beauty of all that, I should let her go," Alana purred. "Family and church and puppies and flowers—how lovely your world must be, Sergeant. But it's somewhat darker than that for the rest of us." She looked at Samantha. "Of course, it does have its moments.

Holy shit," he said. "Oh, my God, holy shit." "Vince," I said, irritated because he had interrupted the first happy thoughts I'd had in days. "In traditional Western culture, we like to separate deity and feces." He

Rubber gloves," I said, and my impatience burst. "Come on, open it up." He looked at me as if I had suggested doing something indecent. "Open it!" I said. Vince

Turn it in two minutes," Alana said to Bobby, and then she came back to me. "Well, piglet," she said to me, and she reached over and pinched my cheek; not as a doting grandmother might, but more like a shrewd shopper checking the cutlets. I tried to pull away, but it wasn't quite as easy as it sounds, with a very large man pushing a shotgun into my back.

Era consolador saber que hasta Doakes necesitaba dormir de vez en cuando. O tal vez había pensado que alguien que acababa de comprometerse merecía un poco de intimidad. Como yo le conocía bien, esto no era probable. Era más probable que le hubieran elegido Papa y hubiera tenido que volar al Vaticano.

Oddly enough, I had found somebody. What, what? Deeply dead Dexter dating débutante doxies? Sex among the Undead? Has my need to imitate life gone all the way to faking orgasms?

Aleister Crowley

Harry had molded him into a man who only killed the killers;

Why do you keep calling me that?" I said. It sounded more petulant than it should have, but I really didn't have a terribly strong position at the moment, unless you count the moral high ground. My

Alas," Brian said, "I really do have to leave posthaste.

Cheer up, brother," he said. "Keep smiling." "What on earth for?" He smiled. "It confuses people?" he said.

It makes the most grotesque killings look antiseptic, staged. Like you're in a new and daring section of Disney World. Dahmer Land. Come ride the refrigerator.

SINCE OUR REAL ESTATE AUCTION DID NOT TAKE PLACE UNTIL tomorrow, we had a long afternoon and evening of what Rita called free time, which seemed like a very misleading thing to call something that cost so much.

That was almost certainly true—but then, Joe Acosta was a rich and powerful man, and my sister was a tough and stubborn woman, and a meeting of two such people would probably go a lot smoother if at least one person present had just a tiny smidgen of tact. Deborah had never had any; she probably couldn't even spell it. And judging from his reputation, Joe Acosta was the kind of man who would buy tact if he ever needed any. So that left me. I