She understood now why her friend Elizabeth, with her near-genius, analytical mind gave wide berth to murder mysteries, psychological thrillers, and horror stories, and read only romance novels. Because, by God, when a woman picked up one of those steamy books, she had a firm guarantee that there would be a Happily-Ever-After. That though the world outside those covers could bring such sorrow and disappointment and loneliness, between those covers, the world was a splendid place to be.

There are two kinds of people in the world Ms. Lane: those who survive no matter the cost and those who are walking victims.

Dude, got eyes? I'm collecting evidence." [...] "In Ziploc bags." "I think they're Glad." "They look impartial to me.

You're Mac, and I'm Jericho. And nothing else matters.

I figure if there is a God, he or she isn’t paying attention to what we build or if we follow some elaborate rules, but copping a ride on our shoulders, watching what we do ever day. Seeing if we took this great big adventure called life and did something interesting with it.

Mom raised us to believe that every lie puts something out there in the world that's inevitably going to come back and bite you in the petunia.

Kid, you might just annoy me into killing you.