I adore life but I dont fear death. I just prefer to die as late as possible.

The lake and the mountains have become my landscape, my real world.

Madame....gloatingly savored her words as earlier she had savored her pig's trotter.

The place smelled of fairgrounds, of lazy crowds, of nights when you stayed out because you couldn't go to bed, and it smelled like New York, of its calm and brutal indifference.

I am at home everywhere, and nowhere. I am never a stranger and I never quite belong.

And Boucard desisted, probably because like everyone else he was deeply impressed by this man who had laid all ghosts, who had lost all shadows, and who stared you in the eyes with cold serenity.

I write fast, because I have not the brains to write slow.