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

by Richard Osman

“Why diet at eighty-two?” says Joyce. “What’s a sausage roll going to do to you? Kill you? Well, join the queue.”

“Small dogs are like small men: always got a point to prove. Yapping it up, barking at cars.”

You must never die before your dog.”

“I’m nearly seventy, darling, everything is a stunning feat of memory these days.

once killed a poet, but that’s as far as he and poetry go.

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

Selling cocaine is less glamorous than people imagine, and Connie Johnson is thinking that

Does expensive paper come from more expensive trees, or do they just make it differently?

The whole scene might have been from the 1970s, when, if you wanted to die of lung cancer, or in a road accident, then that was your choice.

Joyce thinks about kneeling but, really, kneeling over the age of sixty-five is a pipe dream,

“More women are murdering people these days,” says Joyce. “If you ignore the context, it is a real sign of progress.”

And if one is never lost in life, then clearly one has never traveled anywhere interesting.”

People seem to be punctual where diamonds and cocaine are involved.