My father was in the kitchen putting a new washer in the kitchen faucet. He looked relieved to see Morelli standing in the hallway. He'd probably prefer I bring home someone useful, like a butcher or a car mechanic, but I guess cops are a step up from undertakers.

Am I to assume you would rather not have us as clients?"
 "Let me think about that for a nanosecond," Dickie said. "Yes! Last time you were in my office you tried to kill me."
 "That's an exaggeration. Maim you, yes. Kill you, probably not."


It wasn't exactly that Lula was fat. It was more that she was too short for her weight." - Stephanie Plum

When you get ready to write your novel, outline it first. There's nothing worse than getting halfway through and realizing you've painted yourself in a plot corner.

When I was six years old I sprinkled sugar on my head, convinced myself it was pixie dust, wished myself invisible, and walked into the boys' bathroom at school.

I got out of the elevator and confronted Mr. Wexler. “Killing is wrong.” “We kill chickens,” Mr. Wexler said. “We kill cows. We kill trees. So big deal, we kill some drug dealers.” It was hard to argue with that kind of logic because I like cows and chickens and trees much better than drug dealers.

they have enough testosterone between them, if testosterone were electricity they could light up New York City for the month of August