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“Not the dead woman, the one who was with me. The other Sarah Werner. The fake Sarah Werner. Right before she left with Bishop, after he shot the prisoner, they told me she was Bishop’s mother.”
“Right before they left me in that hotel, Bishop’s mother said, “‘Why would you tell this nice man your father was dead.’
“They’re all killers—his mother, his father, and Bishop, and I think all three of them are here in Chicago, right now. The three of them are finishing something that started years ago, something that began way back in Bishop’s childhood.
“Your diet of fast food and candy bars doesn’t help. Your body is supposed to be a temple. You treat yours like a slum lord hoping to collect insurance after the fire.”
“Self-deprecating humor,” Poole replied. “I know you’re a smart guy. You’re good at your job. Putting yourself down is counterproductive. It takes you down a notch in the eyes of those around you. You’re better than that.”
“Forget your eyes—sight is a deceitful mistress—it’s only when you trust your other senses equally that you truly learn to see.”
Beauty has started many wars, but it has yet to end one. Beauty has a taste unlike any other. It’s the sweetest of poisons. You’ll crave more even as it snatches the life from you.”
“The people we are in public aren’t the people we are behind closed doors.
Because I could not stop for Death, He kindly stopped for me; The carriage held but just ourselves And Immortality.
