The whole world’s writing novels, but nobody’s reading them. We need readers. More readers. Fewer writers.

Hard to remember these days that there was a time you had to wait for the ink and paper reviews to see your work excoriated. With the invention of the internet, any subliterate cretin can...

Ridiculous,” he said breathlessly. “You ought to give up detecting and try fantasy writing.

She wuz depressed. Yeah, she wuz on stuff for it. Like me. Sometimes it jus’ takes you over. It’s an illness,” she said, although she made the words sound like “it’s uh nillness.”Nillness, thought Strike,...

Strike was used to playing archaeologist among the ruins of people’s traumatised memories;

Sixteen unseeing stone of disheveled male slammed into her; Robin was knocked off her feet and catapulted backwards, handbag flying, arms windmilling, towards the void beyond the lethal staircase.

It’s an illness,” she said, although she made the words sound like “it’s uh nillness.” Nillness, thought Strike, for a second distracted. Sometimes illness turned slowly to nillness, as was happening to Bristow’s mother… sometimes...

In spite of her plainness that would have made wallflowers of other women, she radiated a great sense of self-importance.

How easy it was to capitalize on a person’s own bent for self-destruction; how simple to nudge them into non-being, then to stand back and shrug and agree that it had been the inevitable result...

Strike had never wanted children; it was one of the things on which he and Charlotte had always agreed, and it had been one of the reasons other relationships over the years had foundered. Lucy...

There were friends all over London who would welcome his eagerly to their homes, who would throw open their guest rooms and their fridges, eager to condole and to help. The price of all of...

There’s pride and then there’s stupidity.

There are always loose ends in real life.

The dead could only speak through the mouths of those left behind, and through the signs they left scattered behind them.

Lightning doesn’t strike twice.

He knew more about the death of Lula Landry than he had ever meant or wanted to know; the same would be true of virtually any sentient being in Britain. Bombarded with the story, you...

…writers are a savage breed, Mr. Strike. If you want life-long friendship and selfless camaraderie, join the army and learn to kill. If you want a lifetime of temporary alliances with peers who will glory...

In the inverted food chain of fame, it was the big beasts who were stalked and hunted

In the depths of his tiredness, surrounded by these blank, sheep-like visages, he found himself pondering the accidents that had brought all of them into being. Every birth was, viewed properly, mere chance. With a...

He had hoped to spot the flickering shadow of a murderer as he turned the file’s pages, but instead it was the ghost of Lula herself who emerged, gazing up at him, as victims of...

But they had already tried, again and again and again, and always, when the first crashing wave of mutual longing subsided, the ugly wreck of the past lay revealed again, its shadow lying darkly over...

Strike teringat kata Adler, “Kebohongan tidak akan masuk akal, kecuali kebenaran mengandung bahaya yang setara.

In the depths of his tiredness,surrounded by these blank, sheep-likevisages, he found himself ponderingthe accidents that had brought all ofthem into being. Every birth was,viewed properly, mere chance. With ahundred million sperm swimmingblindly through the...

I’d imagine “murderess” trumps “wife” when defining a close relationship.

He wondered fleetingly how many people who sat alone for hours as they scribbled their stories practiced talking about their work during their coffee breaks….

Who was more conscious than the soldier of capricious fortune, of the random roll of the dice?

Nutters love murder.

Hers was the kind of family that commissioned painters to immortalize its young: a background utterly alien to Strike, and one he had come to know like a dangerous foreign country.

One mellows almost without realising it – a compensation of age, because anger is exhausting.

Can I ask who you are, sir?””Yeah, I expect so,” said Strike, walking past him and ringing the doorbell. Anstis’s dinner invitation notwithstanding, he was not feeling sympathetic to the police just now. “Should be...

it was weird. Would you believe it if some supermodel called you up and told you she was your sister?’ Strike thought of his own bizarre family history. ‘Probably,’ he said.

Fancourt can’t write women,’ said Nina dismissively. ‘He tries but he can’t do it. His women are all temper, tits and tampons.

Im.’ The monosyllable was heavy with contempt. ‘’E’s a twat.’‘Is he?’‘Yeah, ’e is. Ask Kieran.’She gave the impression that she and Kieran stood together, sane, dispassionate observers of the idiots populating Lula’s world.

Couples tended to be of roughly equivalent personal attractiveness, though of course factors such as money often seemed to secure a partner of significantly better looks than oneself.

Forever encased in the amber of a writer’s prose.

You ought to give up detecting and try fantasy writing, Strike