The worst time to feel alone is when you’re in a crowd.
You’re never too young to die.
If this is what you do to the winner, I’d hate to see how you treat the runner up.
No offense, but I’d rather kiss the horse.
Believe me, It would be better if we didn’t meet again. Go back to school. Go back to your life. And next time they ask you, say no. Killing is for grown-ups and you’re still a child.
When the doorbell rings at three in the morning, it’s never good news.
All that sadness. All that anger. It is the smoke that gets into your eyes. If you do not blow it away, how can you hope to see?
We all make choices, Cossack. Who we are in this world, what we do in it. Generous or selfish. Happy or sad. Good or evil. It’s all down to choice.
I had received an answer to the question that Holmes had put to me. Now all I needed to know was why I had asked it.
The few questions I had asked had been futile and I was suddenly dispirited, for it had occurred to me that had Holmes been present, he would have probably have solved the entire mystery by now.
How could you not wish to see what tomorrow brings? How could you not want to feel the warmth of the sun on your skin, to eat ice cream in the Piazza Navona, to watch the children throwing coins into the fountain?
I love the idea that magic and witchcraft and battles between supernatural creatures could be raging all around us but just out of our sight.
Childhood, after all, is the first precious coin that poverty steals from a child.
Routine is the one thing the can get you killed. It tells the enemy where you’re going and when you’re going to be there.
In the old days, spies had done they’d done because they loved their country, because they believed in what they were doing. But he’d never been given a choice. Nowadays, spies weren’t employed. They were used.
I vividly remember being 14. That was the age when I started to get happy: I started being a writer and stopped being a loser.
The CIA agent looked more dead than alive. Alex wondered if he had been hit, but there was no sign of any blood. Perhaps he was in shock.
He looked from the phone to the unconscious figure of the Salesman. “What did you do to him?” he asked. “He got the wrong number,” Alex said.