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

by Richard Osman

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.

Lance supposes that even people with twenty million pounds in their hands still look at houses they’ll never be able to afford. A hollowed-out volcano, maybe. No one ever buys a house without secretly wanting one ten percent more expensive.

I have high hopes, but then I’m a romantic, and I always have high hopes. It’s much more fun that way.

“You know that time is not coming back, don’t you? The friends, the freedom, the possibilities?” “You’re supposed to be cheering me up,” says Donna. Ibrahim nods. “Let it go. Remember it as a happy time. You were at the top of the mountain, and now you’re in a valley. It will happen to you a number of times.” “So what do I do now?” “You climb the next mountain, of course.” “Oh, yeah, of course,” says Donna. Simple. “And what’s up the next mountain?” “Well, we don’t know, do we? It’s your mountain. No one’s ever climbed it before.” “And what if I don’t want to? What if I just want to go home and cry every night and pretend to everyone that everything’s okay?” “Then do that. Keep being scared, keep being lonely. And spend the next twenty years coming to see me, and I will keep telling you the same thing. Put your boots on and climb the next mountain. See what’s up there. Friends, promotions, babies. It’s your mountain.” “Will there be other mountains after that one?” “There will.” “So I can leave babies until another mountain?” Ibrahim smiles. “You do whatever you want. But looking forward, not back. And I’ll be here as you climb. That armchair is yours whenever you need it.”

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