M.M. Crumley > Quotes

“This is why I hate you." "That can't be true," Doc said sadly. "What about the friendship bracelet you gave me?" Jury's eyelid twitched. "It's a protection bracelet." "No, that can't be right," Doc argued. "Look." He held his wrist out next to Jury's. "They match." Red was creeping up Jury's cheeks now. "They are protection bracelets," he insisted again. "And if you're not careful, I'll take it away.”
― M.M. Crumley, Hidden

“I hate metaphors. If you can't understand something without a metaphor, what's the frigging point?”
― M.M. Crumley, And He Walked a Crooked Mile

“Wisdom," she replied, "cannot be measured or bought or stored.”
― M.M. Crumley, Omens

“Honor is such a changeable word. Like morals and good. Everyone has their own definition.”
― M.M. Crumley, Empire

“my soul longs for quiet; take me home.”
― M.M. Crumley, Indebted

“If you strip away the good of the one, you can no longer claim to care for the good of all.”
― M.M. Crumley, Omens

“And so they lose the right of basic human decency?" "It was... The idea... It was for the good of all," Thaddeus offered weakly.
"The one is part of the all," Doc retorted. "If you strip away the good of the one, you can no longer claim to care for the good of all.”
― M.M. Crumley, Omens

“You shouldn't ask questions if you don't want to hear the answers,”
― M.M. Crumley, Oblivion

“killed them!" How could he have killed them? How could he have killed them and then ate and laughed and continued to live as though nothing had happened?”
― M.M. Crumley, Burial Ground: The Legend of Andrew Rufus

“Don't you dare defend them! If you choose to bring a child into this world, you are accepting the responsibility of caring for them, and that's more than just making sure they're fed and have a roof over their head.”
― M.M. Crumley, Omens

“Suddenly something inside him snapped. Everything had happened so fast the last week he hadn't really processed anything; he'd made it a point not to process anything, but he couldn't ignore it any longer. He slipped down in the corner of the shower, burying his face in his hands, and he wept. He felt there must be some part of his soul missing, laying in the forest with the blood of all the men he'd killed. He knew Doyle was right; he knew he'd had to kill them; he had to if he wanted to live, but why? Why had they been willing to hunt him down? Why had they been willing to kill him? Shouldn't they have asked why? Shouldn't they have protested, questioned orders? But they hadn't. They hadn't. And he'd won… or he hadn't lost anyway. But the price, oh the price, it was high.”
― M.M. Crumley, Burial Ground: The Legend of Andrew Rufus