A Book of Bones Quotes

“But the measure of a man was the degree to which he was prepared to inconvenience himself for what was right;”
― John Connolly, A Book of Bones

“They listened to the Beatles for most of the journey, and Hynes explained to Gackowska why Abbey Road was the band’s best record, and how Sgt. Pepper’s wasn’t really a concept album, no matter what anyone claimed to the contrary. Then he had to explain to Gackowska what a concept album was, and a B side, until pretty soon he felt about a hundred years old and was tempted to check himself into a nursing home.”
― John Connolly, A Book of Bones

“Came from nothing- less than nothing, because the poor always enter this life with their account in deficit, and generally leave it in much the same condition...”
― John Connolly, A Book of Bones

“We lose ourselves by degrees: our youth, our souls.”
― John Connolly, A Book of Bones

“People suffered all the time, and died badly. Many called on God to save them at the end, but if God heard their pleas, He chose not to answer. Maybe the pastor was wrong. Maybe God was imperfect, and men, by acting in their own interests, were reflecting only the reality of His nature.”
― John Connolly, A Book of Bones

“It’s good that you have someone that cares for you. It doesn’t make it easier, but it sure doesn’t make it harder.”
― John Connolly, A Book of Bones

“Badness lingered, and if blood penetrated deep enough into wood, the stain became near permanent. The past gave substance to the present, and all old places were storehouses of memory: the more ancient the site, the greater the accumulation, and bygone atrocities called to new.”
― John Connolly, A Book of Bones

“Stupidity, he knew, did not recognize boundaries of color or creed. But he had come to believe that, like driving a car, people should have to pass a test before being allowed access to the Internet”
― John Connolly, A Book of Bones

“permitted to die at last, to sleep without waking.”
― John Connolly, A Book of Bones

“You set aside that part of her,” said Parker. “You lay it in the ground, or place it in an alcove in a wall, and try to hold on to what’s left. Nothing is ever the same again, but it’s tolerable, after a while. You’ll find time passes differently for you. It becomes sluggish. Joy is rare. The temptation is to suffer and grieve alone, to cut yourself off from others. For some, it’s the only way, and it kills them in the end. They die inside, and they don’t even know they’re dead. Better to learn to live with the pain. If you can, work to ease the pain of those”
― John Connolly, A Book of Bones

“Parker had no pity for the two men, not after listening to them boast of what they’d done, but neither was he experiencing any sense of triumph, only a vague depression. It wasn’t entirely due to the nature of the case, although that was part of it; mostly it was a consequence of exposure to the workings of the legal system. Anyone who spent time in a courtroom emerged with scars. The only variables were quantity and depth.”
― John Connolly, A Book of Bones

“intelligence for the sector. “They say they’re uncle and nephew, and they’re clean: no tattoos. That third one, though—he’s a keeper.” The third man had given his name as José Hernández, which was the equivalent of a Caucasian claiming to be called John Smith. He had not been picked up in the sweep of the yard, but a couple of hours later, supposedly as he waited for a bus to Tucson, although it was more likely he was waiting for a ride back to Mexico, since the next bus for Tucson wasn’t scheduled to leave until the following morning. He was smaller and leaner than the others, and had so far done his best not to make eye contact with any of his interrogators. He was also the only one who had been wearing a long-sleeved shirt, fully buttoned, when detained. “What did Lagnier have to say about him?” Ross asked. “Beyond the fact that Hernández had been working for him on and off for about five days,” said Zaleski, “Mr. Lagnier had nothing to say about him at all, and that’s ‘nothing’ with a heavy emphasis.” “Meaning?” “Meaning Lagnier knew better than to ask about José’s background. It’s probably not the first time Lagnier’s done a solid for some friends from across the border: a place for cousins to sleep, a little work to replenish funds before they head farther north. But sometimes…” Zaleski let it hang. Parker figured everyone in the room now knew that Lagnier had an arrangement with the ATF, and if they didn’t, they had no business being there. “Sometimes it’s a more substantial favor,” finished Newton, one of the Maricopa detectives. “One he doesn’t share with his handlers.” “Not unless Lagnier wants to try holding his silverware without thumbs,” said Zaleski. “This whole territory belongs to the Sinaloa cartel, and nothing moves in or out without their knowledge. Young José in there has himself a collection of tattoos under that shirt. He didn’t much approve of us having a look-see, but he knew better than to kick up a fuss.” Zaleski took out her phone and displayed a series of photographs of Hernández’s adornments.”
― John Connolly, A Book of Bones

“Ears were blocked to reason, and eyes blocked to goodness.”
― John Connolly, A Book of Bones

“Anyone who spent time in a courtroom emerged with scars. The only variables were quantity and depth.”
― John Connolly, A Book of Bones

“This is Northumbria, spanning Durham, Yorkshire, and Northumberland, the northernmost county in England. Here was once the frontier, the last place, where, in the second century, the Romans built their vast fortifications to hold back the Scots and the Picts: first Hadrian’s Wall, running from the banks of the Tyne in the east to the Solway Firth in the west; and later, in a fit of optimism – or arrogance – the more northerly Antonine Wall, from the Firth of Forth in the east to the Firth of Clyde in the west, before abandoning it in favor of a consolidation of the southern defenses. In time, the remains of the Antonine Wall will come to be referred to as the Devil’s Dyke, but by then the Romans will be long gone, their fortresses already falling into ruin, leaving the blood to dry, and the land to bear their scars. Because the land remembers. So the Romans depart, and chaos descends. The Angles invade from Germania, battling the natives and one another, before eventually forging two kingdoms, Northumbria and Mercia, only to see them fall to the Norsemen in the ninth century, who will themselves be defeated by the kings of Wessex. More blood, more scars. In 927 AD, Northumbria becomes part of Athelstan’s united England. In 1066 William the Conqueror lands with his Normans, and crushes the Northumbrian resistance to Norman rule. The Norman castles rise, but they, like the Romans and the Angles before, are forced to defend themselves against the Scots. They leave their dead at Alnwick and Redesdale, Tyndale and Otterburn. The land has a taste for blood now. More conflicts follow – the Wars of the Roses, the Rising in the North, the Civil War, the Jacobite rebellions – and the ground makes way for new bones, but the blood never really dries. Dig deep enough, expose the depths, and one might almost glimpse seams of red and white, like the strata of rock: blood and bone, over and over, the landscape infused by them, forever altered and forever changing. Because the killing never stops.”
― John Connolly, A Book of Bones

“Waneth the watch, but the world holdeth. —Anonymous, “The Seafarer”
― John Connolly, A Book of Bones

“how the ruins of a Saxon settlement might provide the foundations for a Roman garrison, that garrison give way to a Norman fortress, the fortress to a medieval town,”
― John Connolly, A Book of Bones