Been there, done that, got the T-shirt.

Martin was dafter than a syphilitic polecat - where do I get these metaphors from?

Her voice was as rough as sandpaper. As long as Blomkvist lived, he would never forget her face as she went on the attack. Her teeth were bared like a beast of prey. Her eyes were glittering, black as coal. She moved with the lightning speed of a tarantula and seemed totally focus on her prey as she swung the club again, striking Martin in the ribs.

I am what I am,' Salander said 'I ran away from everything and everybody. I should have said goodbye.

Her absence had felt like torture--almost a form of personal punishment. He had nobody to discuss his feelings with, and for the first time he realised with appalling clarity what a destructive hold she had over him.

Wennerström was devoting himself to fraud that was so extensive it was no longer merely criminal–it was business.

Keep in mind that I'm crazy, won't you?