Nineteen Minutes

by Jodi Picoult

But then again, maybe bad things happen because it’s the only way we can keep remembering what good is supposed to look like.

People had figured out all sorts of ways to make things seem different than they truly were.

Death wasn’t something you could control. In fact, it would always have the upper hand.

Life was what happened when all the what-if’s didn’t, when what you dreamed or hoped or—in this case—feared might come to pass passed by instead.

When you begin a journey of revenge, start by digging two graves: one for your enemy, and one for yourself. —CHINESE PROVERB

“In nineteen minutes, you can mow the front lawn, color your hair, watch a third of a hockey game. You can bake scones or get a tooth filled by a dentist. You can fold laundry for a family of five. Or, as Peter Houghton knows . . . in nineteen minutes, you can bring the world to a screeching halt.”

Life was a series of ifs—a