The Man Who Died Twice (Thursday Murder Club, #2)

by Richard Osman

I love hospitals, they’re like airports.

Revenge is not a straight line, it’s a circle. It’s a grenade that goes off while you’re still in the room, and you can’t help but be caught in the blast.

They say a man who desires revenge should dig two graves, and this is surely right.

We are all gone in the blink of an eye, and there is nothing to do but live while you’re waiting. Cause trouble, play chess, whatever suits you.

“It is fine to say ‘what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.’ It is admirable. But it no longer applies when you’re eighty. When you are eighty, whatever doesn’t kill you just ushers you through the next door, and the next door and the next, and all of these doors lock behind you. No bouncing back. The gravitational pull of youth disappears, and you just float up and up.”

He has a lot of respect for Gandhi and his ilk, but sometimes you have to cross the line.

People love to sleep, and yet they are so frightened of death. Bogdan has never understood it.

“Some people in life, Sue, are weather forecasters, whereas other people are the weather itself.”

“You are simply a little lost, Donna. And if one is never lost in life, then clearly one has never traveled anywhere interesting.”

“You read people very well, Joyce, don’t think I don’t spot that. I see how you do it too, coercion through kindness.