Past Tense Quotes

“and watched the truck squeal away, each tire insisting the other three were wrong.”
― Lee Child, Past Tense

“That kid was every kind of bully. He had a grudge against anyone with one brain cell more. Which was a lot”
― Lee Child, Past Tense

“He drew back the string an extra inch. The arrowhead moved backward, the same inch, toward his hand, clenched tight around the grip. The bow curved harder. It sang with tension.”
― Lee Child, Past Tense

“Don’t let ego get in the way of a good decision.” “You just trashed every general in our nation’s history.”
― Lee Child, Past Tense

“Reacher thanked the guy for the ride, and got out, and watched the truck squeal away, each tire insisting the other three were wrong.”
― Lee Child, Past Tense

“Maybe learned in role play class. As if visitors to an old people’s home made up a unique demographic. Not the recently bereaved. The soon to be. The pre-bereaved.”
― Lee Child, Past Tense

“Protein, carbohydrate, grease. All the food groups.”
― Lee Child, Past Tense

“Maybe he thinks you’re an agent of deep state oppression. We’re dealing with an old guy with a ponytail here.”
― Lee Child, Past Tense

“That’s the problem with denial. Reality doesn’t care what you think. It just keeps rolling along.”
― Lee Child, Past Tense

“Mark said, ‘I’m totally happy to raise the blind, if that’s really what you want. But I’m worried you won’t enjoy it as much the second time around. It would help me ethically if I could double-check your positive consent.’ Patty stood up. Put her hands to her shoes. Mark said, ‘You don’t need to get on the bed. I can hear you from there. The microphone is not in the light.’ ‘Why are you keeping us here?’ ‘We’ll discuss that very soon. Before the end of the day, certainly.’ ‘What do you want from us?’ ‘Right now all I need is your positive consent to raise the window blind.’ ‘Why wouldn’t we want that?’ ‘Is that a yes?’ ‘What is going to happen to us?’ ‘We’ll discuss that very soon. Before the end of the day, certainly. All we need right now is a decision on the window blind. Up or down?’ ‘Up,’ Patty said. The TV turned itself off. The screen went blank, and the circuitry rustled, and a tiny standby light glowed red. Then inside the window unit the motor whirred and the blind came up, slow and steady, with warm sunlight pouring in underneath. The view was the same. The Honda, the lot, the grass, the wall of trees. But it was beautiful. The way it was lit.”
― Lee Child, Past Tense

“At the very same moment, close by, a car breaks down. Two young Canadians are trying to get to New York City to sell a treasure. They’re stranded at a lonely motel in the middle of nowhere. It’s a”
― Lee Child, Past Tense

“Reacher let him fall. He landed on the bricks outside the bag shop, one arm right and the other arm wrong, like a swastika. He was breathing. A little bubbly, from the blood in his throat. His nose was badly busted. Cheekbones, too, maybe. Some of his teeth were out. Upper row, mostly. His dentist’s kid was going to be just fine for college.”
― Lee Child, Past Tense

“His usual habit was to click twice. If in doubt, et cetera. Maybe it helped, and it never seemed to hurt. Like shooting someone in the head. A double tap could do no harm.”
― Lee Child, Past Tense

“She said, “I can’t.” Reacher let go of Mark’s collar, and sent him sprawling with a push. He took the Glock from Patty. He said, “I wanted you to have the opportunity. That was all. Otherwise you would have wondered all your life. But now you know. You’re a good person, Patty.” “Thank you.” “Better than me,” he said. He turned and shot Mark in the head. Twice. A fast tight double-tap, low in the back of the skull. What the army schools called the assassination shot. Not that they would ever admit it.”
― Lee Child, Past Tense

“He was a nice person, back when that meant something. But you better not mess with his sense of right and wrong. Underneath he was a bomb waiting to go off. He had it under control. He was a very self-disciplined person. He had a rule. If you did a bad thing, he would make sure you only did it once. Whatever it took.”
― Lee Child, Past Tense

“door wide open. Patty pointed. Shorty said, “It’s for cleaning your ears. Or drying them. Maybe both. They have two ends. I’ve seen them in the drugstore.” “Why is it there?” “Someone missed the trash can. Maybe it bounced off the rim, and rolled out of sight. Happens all the time. The maids don’t care.” She said, “Go back to your lawn chair, Shorty.” He did.”
― Lee Child, Past Tense

“An obscure cousin with no known antecedents. A blank space on the family tree.”
― Lee Child, Past Tense

“Realistic. Dispassionate. Overall he figured there was a good chance of success. Either Karel would let it go, or he wouldn’t, multiplied by either he was close by, or he wasn’t. Two coin tosses in a row. Disaster priced at four to one, success at four to three. Numbers didn’t lie. No cognitive bias.”
― Lee Child, Past Tense

“Peter had said they should think on it, and they had, not because he told them, but because it was their natures. It was the Saint Leonard way. Engage brain. Think before you speak. Begin at the beginning.”
― Lee Child, Past Tense

“He was the Praetorian Guard, and they were the great gentlemen.”
― Lee Child, Past Tense

“Reacher thought, damn. The vagaries of chance.”
― Lee Child, Past Tense

“Maybe Burke was offering tactical advice. Do this, then do that. But Reacher couldn’t understand the semaphore. And he felt it would likely be superfluous anyway.”
― Lee Child, Past Tense

“Afterward the last one looked best off. He was still moving. So Reacher stepped down and kicked him in the head. Just once. The irreducible number. But hard. To discourage further participation. Then the lobby door opened and Brenda Amos walked in.”
― Lee Child, Past Tense

“Right there. Stan Reacher, nem con. Which was short for the Latin nemine contradicente, which meant no one spoke against, which meant no one else wanted the job.”
― Lee Child, Past Tense

“Reacher nodded. He said, “Anything else you can tell me?” Mortimer went quiet so long Reacher thought maybe he had fallen into a geriatric coma. Or died. But then he moved. He raised the same bent and bony hand. This time not a warning. This time an appeal for attention. Like a comedian calming a crowd, ahead of a punch line.”
― Lee Child, Past Tense

“The atmosphere was happy. Maybe a little forced. They were welcomed at the reception desk by a cheerful woman who spoke to them as she would to the bereaved, except not exactly. A little livelier. A unique tone. Maybe part of her training. Maybe learned in role play class. As if visitors to an old people’s home made up a unique demographic. Not the recently bereaved. The soon to be. The pre-bereaved.”
― Lee Child, Past Tense

“Then turn around and I’ll cuff you.” “Not really necessary, either.” “It’s for your safety as well as mine,” Davison said. Which Reacher figured had to come from a role play class. Maybe led by a psychologist. Maybe the task of the day was to find a line that could inhibit further resistance simply by stunning vital cortexes in the brain with its blatant opacity. How could putting him in handcuffs help his safety?”
― Lee Child, Past Tense

“They looked like a faded billboard for an old-time black and white movie. Some sentimental story. Maybe their mother died young and the old guy raised them all solo. Now they’re grateful. Or now for the first time ever a fractured family is seeing eye to eye, because of a terrible external threat. Some kind of dramatic hokum. They were acting it out.”
― Lee Child, Past Tense

“Fifty yards would have been five or six seconds for an athlete, but Reacher was aiming nearer thirty. A slow walk. But purposeful. Intended to communicate something. He kept his strides long and his shoulders loose and his hands away from his sides. He kept his head up and his eyes hard on the guy. A primitive signal, learned long ago. The guy glanced away to the south. For help, maybe. Maybe he wasn’t alone. Reacher got close. The big guy turned to face him. He wrestled the old guy around in front, and used him like a human shield. Reacher stopped six feet away. He said, “Let him go.” Just three words, but in a tone also learned long ago, with whole extra paragraphs hidden in the dying vowel sound at the end of the phrase, about the inevitable and catastrophic result of attempted resistance. The big guy let the old guy go. But he wasn’t quitting. No sir. He wanted Reacher to be sure about that. He made it like he wanted to free up his hands anyway. For more important purposes. He shoved the old guy aside and stepped right into Reacher’s space, not more than four feet away. He was twenty-some years old, dark haired and unshaven, more than six feet and two hundred pounds, tanned and muscled by outdoor labor.”
― Lee Child, Past Tense

“She looked at her watch. She said, “Why is it when someone says between two hours and four hours it’s always nearer four hours than two hours?” “Parkinson’s disease,” Shorty said. “Work expands to take up as much time as there is.” “Law,” Patty said. “Not disease. That’s when you get the shakes.”
― Lee Child, Past Tense