Before the Frost

You think you know everything about a person, but the truth often comes as a surprise.

We don't have time to argue. Nobody has time.

Each person searches for the most beautiful jump which will be the final before leaving this world.

Some people give theirselves a certain number of white weeks once in a year, when they do not drink a single drop of alcohol. It is really wise. I myself have a few weeks per year, let us call them white or black, when I am not interested in the world around. When I come back from this isolation of the news, I realize that I have missed nothing significant. We live in the rain of disinformation and rumors, where the truth is a very small number. In those weeks of dissociation I seek for knowledge that lies within me.

Your memories will be a flock of birds, silently flying in the sky. You will see them flying in and see them flying away. The memories will disappear and there will be nothing left.

The fear of death came and went, though right now her life force was strong. But she had never forgotten what went through her mind when she balanced on the railing of the bridge. Life wasn't just something that took care of itself. There were big black holes you could fall into with long, sharp spikes at the bottom, monstrous traps.

Not everything can go according to the plan.

Children get acquainted with each other in a special way, they do not make contracts as adults, they believe each other or not. Childish friendships often end in violence. You may become an enemy all of a sudden as well as notice that you are someone's best friend.

A message was scribbled on the wall: Life is for sale. Alert the news for the media.

A full description of a person's life, however uneventful or uninteresting, fills a large folder.

'What was that?' Wallander said. [Linda] 'Nothing.' 'That's funny. I could have sworn you were swearing.' 'I didn't say anything.' 'I have a strange daughter,' Wallander said to Lindman. 'She curses without even knowing it.'

On the one hand, everything is connected, on the other hand, it is not.

Working with keys is always meaningful. Locking and opening is, in a sense, man's very purpose on this earth.

You can't interrupt the process of making a key once you've started. It lets a kind of hesitation into the iron. That happens and the key will never sit well in its lock.

He walked out and closed the door. Linda had the feeling that she was imprisoned, not with a lock and key, but by the imposed time limit. She decided to write down what she was going to say in a note-book, and pulled one across the table towards her. When she flipped it open she was confronted with a bad sketch of a seductively posed naked woman. To her surprise she saw it was Martinsson’s notepad. But why should that surprise me? she thought. All the men I know spend an enormous amount of mental energy undressing women in their minds.

The truth lies in poverty and simplicity.

always listen for what is left unsaid. That could prove to be the most important thing.

Births and deaths are going on all around us all the time. But the dying seems more pronounced when you reach the front of the line. Now that my father is dead there’s no one ahead of me anymore.

Our ancestors survive somewhere in our faces, she thought. If you look like your mother as a child, you end up as your father when you age. When you no longer recognise your face, it's because an unknown ancestor has taken up residence for a while.

Linda grabbed an ashtray from the table and threw it at him, hitting him right above the eyebrow. Blood ran down his face and dripped on Harriet Bolson’s file.

Linda recognized the car next to it as Höglund’s. Linda fingered the Swiss army knife in her pocket, but this was not a night for slashing tires.