The Poet (Jack McEvoy, #1; Harry Bosch Universe, #5)

by Michael Connelly

Man is sometimes extraordinarily, passionately, in love with suffering.

Soon I was back in the embrace of the words of the poet. Dead a hundred and fifty years but reaching from the grave to grip me. Poe was a master of mood and pace. The mood was gloom and the pace often frenetic.

My pattern had always been the same. When I didn’t care whether a woman rejected me, I always took the chance. When I did care and knew rejection would cut me, I always held back.

We trust the things we find beautiful, the things we want.