Shutter Island

by Dennis Lehane

time is nothing to me but a series of bookmarks that I use to jump back and forth through the text of my life, returning again and again to the events that mark me, in the eyes of my more astute colleagues, as bearing all the characteristics of the classic melancholic.

“You see a death camp someday, Doctor, then get back to me with your feelings about God.”

Across the room, Trey and Bibby were locked in a snoring competition and

“You don’t have a partner, Marshal. You came here alone.”

her insanity was not her fault, not something she could control, not some proof of moral weakness or lack of fortitude.