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?
Anthony HorowitzHe had followed the trail left by a dead man. It was only now that he realized it might lead only to a grave.
Anthony HorowitzI hear it still. As I lay down my pen and take to my bed, I am aware of the bow being drawn across the bridge and the music rises into the night sky. It is far away and barely audible - but there it is! A pizzicato. Then a tremelo. The style is unmistakable. It is Sherlock Holmes who is playing. It must be. I hope with all my heart that he is playing for me . . .
Anthony Horowitz