Ask very pointed questions. Sharp as sword blades, or laser blasts, if you catch my meaning.

…because love is continual interrogation. I don’t know of a better definition of love.

Anyone even remotely suspect was interrogated, because interrogation is by far the most effective method of speedily banishing inappropriate thoughts from the mind.

Though some may see their shortcomings as the greatest evil from the pit of hell, while some throw invectives at God for bringing them into a cruel, problematic world. These shortcomings are transient, the greatest...

The trick to surviving an interrogation is patience. Don’t offer up anything. Don’t explain. Answer the question and only the question that is asked so you don’t accidentally put your head in a noose.

I don’t know. They haven’t been in school for a while.

Most undercover cops are vastly skilled at compartmentalization. It is a talent as valued as lying. They seal off their real feelings and create imitation emotions. Easily torn down when it’s time to show the...

Always stick to the story. It was when you started backtracking that people got in trouble. Interrogation 101.

For, or so they whispered, she would take the camp-stool and draw it up close below the face of the man or woman that hung down over the edge of the interrogation table. Then she...

What do you mean?” Leslie’s voice was cool, as if she questioned witches who were flat on their backs being threatened by werewolves every day.

I wasn’t around when Kennedy got shot. Not being born yet is a pretty good alibi. Still, if the cops ask where I was, tell them I was with you.

Until you guys own your own souls you don’t own mine. Until you guys can be trusted every time and always, in all times and conditions, to seek the truth out and find it and...

maybe not

No! Please! I’ll tell you whatever you want to know!” the man yelled. “Really?” said Vimes. “What’s the orbital velocity of the moon?””What?””Oh, you’d like something simpler?

Whiskey burns—my throat, not a forest. Love burns—my heart, not a forest. As for the forest, it burnt itself. At least that’s what I told the police during their interrogation.

I get it,’ said the prisoner. ‘Good Cop, Bad Cop, eh?’If you like.’ said Vimes. ‘But we’re a bit short staffed here, so if I give you a cigarette would you mind kicking yourself in...