If the real world were a book, it would never find a publisher. Overlong, detailed to the point of distraction-and ultimately, without a major resolution.

Everything comes to an end. A good bottle of wine, a summer’s day, a long-running sitcom, one’s life, and eventually our species. The question for many of us is not that everything will come to an end but when. And can we do anything vaguely useful until it does?

Failure concentrates the mind wonderfully. If you don't make mistakes, you're not trying hard enough.

Religion isn't the cause of wars, it's the excuse.

Literary detection and firearms don't really go hand in hand; pen mighter than the sword and so forth.

People don't change just because you know more about them.

To each our own Hamlet.