Quotes from Jeff Lindsay

If only I was capable of love, how I would have loved Harry.

Sooner or later, having two separate agendas is going to cause trouble.

the idea of sex is no idea at all. Imagine doing those things—How can you? Where's your sense of dignity?

And as always seems to happen when I have reached the point where I am ready to take decisive action, everything began to happen at once.

This was Miami, after all. People come home every day to find their TVs gone, their jewelry and electronics all taken away; their space violated, their possessions rifled, and their dog pregnant.

Anytime somebody is absolutely certain about something, they are almost always absolutely wrong

Talking to a shrink was out of the question, of course; I would frighten the poor thing to death, and he might feel honor bound to have me locked away somewhere. Certainly I could not argue with the wisdom of that idea.

Because no matter how far you may travel, you are what you are, and even when you are flying at thrilling new heights, circling the sun and thinking you belong in the halo of that perfect golden light, you do not. The wings always melt, and you always crash-land in your same old self.

That left either magical powers or coincidence, and although I have nothing at all against Harry Potter, coincidence got my vote.

The more I heard it in my thoughts, the more sense it made. And beyond sense, it became a kind of seductive mantra.

If somebody had shouted at me, Look out behind you! He's got a gun! I would have replied with no more than a weary mumble, Tell him to take a number and wait.

There are still very few laws against thinking, although I am sure they're working hard on that in Washington.

Perhaps I should call the Guinness Book people. I wondered what the world record was for not being sure whether you committed a string of murders?

Hello there, officer, just out for a walk. Lovely evening for a dismemberment, isn't it?

Cualquiera puede ser encantador si no le importa mentir y decir todas las cosas estúpidas, obvias y nauseabundas que la conciencia suele reprimir en la mayoría de la gente. Por suerte, yo no tengo conciencia. Y las digo. -Dexter

A reasonable being might think that he and I could find some common ground; have a cup of coffee and compare our Passengers, exchange trade talk and chitchat about dismemberment techniques. But no: Doakes wanted me dead. And I found it difficult to share his point of view.

Everyone is so cheerful and happy," I said "This isn't Mister Rogers Neighborhood, Dex. It's Miami. Only the bad guys are happy." She looked at me without expression, a perfect cop stare. "How come you're not laughing and singing?" "Unkind, Deb. Very unkind. I've been good for months." She took a sip of water. "Uh-huh. And it's making you crazy.

This night it would happen, had to happen. Just as it had happened before. Just as it would happen again, and again.

But of course, there's no rest for the wicked, which I certainly am; as I said, no rest for the wicked.

Dex," she said. "Are you all right?" "I'll be fine, Sis," I said, feeling somewhat light-headed, "if you'll just turn off that horrible music.

Apparently the police were hot on the trail of the Tamiami Butcher. There were no specifics available, but Captain Matthews got a lovely sound bite. He made it seem like he would personally make the arrest as soon as he finished his coffee.

Life teaches us that human thought almost never walks hand in hand with logic, and it is usually counterproductive to raise the point.

So you're not going to die, are you? she [Astor] asked politely. Not yet, I said. Not until after you do your homework. She nodded, glanced toward the kitchen, and said, I hate math. Then she wandered away down the hall, presumably to hate math at closer range.

Always marveling at how New Age pseudo-philosophy had taken over the Internet.