Jeff Lindsay Quotes

It was almost enough to make me feel emotion.

I think that's nice, and if I could have feelings at all I would have them for Deb.

Anybody can be charming if they don't mind faking it, saying all the stupid, obvious, nauseating things that a conscience keeps most people from saying. Happily, I don't have a conscience. I say them.

What to wear? I could think of no guidelines on what we were wearing this season to a party forced on you to celebrate an unwanted engagement that might turn into a violent confrontation with a vengeful maniac. Clearly brown shoes were out, but beyond that nothing really seemed de rigueur.

No big deal. We all have blood in us, the trick is keeping it inside.

I was good at being charming, one of my very few vanities.

I am unlovable...I have tried to involve myself in other people, in relationships, and even - in my sillier moments - in love. But it doesn't work. Something in me is broken or missing and sooner or later the other person catches me Acting or one of Those Nights comes along.

For my part, my interest in Paris had faded away completely long ago when I learned that it was in France.

I mean, really: what kind of person could possibly dislike me?

Of course it was a terrible thing, and the world would be a much better place without someone in it who could do that, but did that mean we had to miss lunch?

I thought about the nice clothes that I always wore. Well of course I did. I took pride in being the best dressed monster in Dade County.

And as always seems to happen when I have reached the point where I am ready to take decisive action, everything began to happen at once.

But of course, there's no rest for the wicked, which I certainly am; as I said, no rest for the wicked.

Since I am not actually a real human being, my emotional responses are generally limited to what I have learned to fake.

Feeling - what authentic human fun!

It's terrible to have to depend on someone else.

The key to a happy life is to have accomplishments to be proud of and purpose to look forward to, and at the moment I had both. How wonderful it was to be me.

And then more quiet, silence so deep it almost drowned out the roar of the night music that pounded away in my secret self.

It’s an odd term, 'girlfriend,' particularly for grown persons. And in practice it provides an even odder concept. Generally speaking, in adults it described a woman, not a girl, who was willing to provide sex, not friendship. In fact, from what I had observed it was quite possible for one to actively dislike one’s girlfriend, although of course true hatred is reserved for marriage.

Could this be the Apocalypse ?

I was never more alive than when the Dark Passenger was driving.

Mutilated corpses with a chance of afternoon showers. I got dressed and went to work.

I enjoyed watching good-looking idiots looking at each other. A great spectator sport.

A man who discovers his pants are on fire tends to have very little time to worry about somebody else's box of matches

There is a simple, logical explanation,' I said to myself. And because you never know who else is listening, I added, 'And there is nothing under the bed.'" --Dexter

They like to tell us that it is important to speak the truth, but it has been my experience that real happiness lies in having people tell you what you want to believe, usually not the same thing at all, and if you have to stub your toe on the truth later, so be it.

I really am guilty, of many somethings, all of them lethal and very enjoyable and technically not quite legal.

In that tremendous flash of freedom, on my way to do The Thing for the first time, sanctioned by Almighty Harry, I receded, faded back into the scenery of my own dark self, whole the other me crouched and growled. I would do It at last, do what I had been created to do. And I did.

I let it ring. I wanted to breathe for a few minutes, and I could think of nothing that couldn't wait. Besides, I had paid almost $50 for an answering machine. Let it earn its keep.

The students we saw were all bright, attractive, and polite, and the teachers all seemed to be smart and dedicated, and I began to appreciate the benefits of a private school education. If only I'd had the opportunity to attend a place like this, who knows what I might have become? Perhaps instead of a mere blood-spatter analyst who slunk away at night to kill without conscience, I could have become a doctor, or a physicist, or even a senator who slunk away at night to kill without conscience. It was terribly sad to think of all my wasted potential.

I know family comes first, but shouldn't that mean after breakfast?

Nothing else loves me, or ever will. Not even - especially - me. I know what I am and that is not a thing to love.

Or was he saying, "Hi! Wanna play?" And I did. Of course I did.

I was filled with dread at the thought my mind had skipped town and left me behind to pay the rent." --Dexter

Money to me had always been merely something the sheep used to show each other how wonderful they were.

The mind picks some very bad times to take a walk doesn't it?

It really is better to be lucky than to be good.

The faster it ran away from me. And I found myself reasoning that perhaps one more beer would unlock the doors of perception.

What a terrible thing life can be.

Because I am an inhuman monster, I tend to be logical.

I waved to everybody. Some of them even waved back. They knew me, had seen me go by before, always cheerful, a big hello for everybody. He was such a nice man. Very friendly. I can’t believe he did those horrible things . . .

Life's only obligation, afterall, was to be interesting.

Perhaps because I'll never be one, humans are interesting to me.

As I've said, freedom is really an illusion. Anytime we think we have a real choice, it just means we haven't seen the shotgun aimed at our navel.

It happens; incompetence is rewarded more often than not.

Really now: If you can't get me my newspaper on time, how can you expect me to refrain from killing people?

It's that moon again, slung so fat and low in the tropical night, calling out across a curdled sky and into the quivering ears of that dear old voice in the shadows, the Dark Passenger, nestled snug in the backseat of the Dodge K-car of Dexter's hypothetical soul. That rascal moon, that loudmouthed leering Lucifer, calling down across the empty sky to the dark hearts of the night monsters below, calling them away to their joyful playgrounds.

I think people understand things different when they get older. It’s not a question of getting soft, or seeing things in the gray areas instead of black and white. I really believe I’m just understanding things different. Better.