“Years fly by, but the heart stays in the same place.”
“There was an old joke about being left on a deserted island with an editor. You are starving. All you have left is a glass of orange juice. Days pass. You are near death. You are about to drink the juice when the editor grabs the glass from your hand and pees into it. You look at him, stunned . "There," the editor says, handing you the glass. "It just needed a little tweaking.”
“The missing girl—there had been unceasing news reports, always flashing to that achingly ordinary school portrait of the vanished teen, you know the one, with the rainbow-swirl background, the girl's hair too straight, her smile too self-conscious, then a quick cut to the worried parents on the front lawn, microphones surrounding them, Mom silently tearful, Dad reading a statement with quivering lip—that girl, that missing girl had just walked past Edna Skylar.”
“Oh, you’ve made plenty of short stories long. But never, ever, have you made a long story short.”
“He called us.” “Dominick Rochester?” “Yes.” “When?” “Last night. He said he met with you.” Met, Myron thought. Nice euphemism.”
“The phone rang. Joan Rochester leaped to her feet, but Dominick signaled her to sit with a wave of his hand. He wiped his face as though it were a windshield and rose from his seat. Dominick was a thick man. Not fat. Thick. Thick neck, thick shoulders, thick chest, thick arms and thighs. The”
“The early morning joggers and walkers were on the circle. Most were on the elderly side and moved slowly. But not all. A group of four hotties, all hard-bodied and maybe twenty-ish, were jogging in his direction. Myron smiled at them and arched an eyebrow. “Hello, ladies,” he said as they passed. Two of them snickered. The other two looked at him as though he’d just announced that he had a poopie in his pants. Win”
“So that was what Edna had been doing. Strolling down the street. Ignoring, as she often did, the sights and sounds. Lost in her own personal bliss of studying the faces of passersby. Noting cheek structure and mandibular depth, inter-eye distance and ear height, jaw contours and orbital spacing. And that was why, despite the new hair color and style, despite the fashionable glasses and adult makeup and clothing, Edna had recognized the missing girl.”
“Win sidled up next to him. “Did you give them the full-wattage smile?” “I’d say a good eighty, ninety watts.” Win studied the young women before making a declaration: “Lesbians,” he said. “Must be.” “A lot of that going around, isn’t there?” Myron did the math in his head. He probably had fifteen to twenty years on them. When it comes to young girls, you just never want to feel it.”
“The car following you,” Win said, keeping his eyes on the young joggers, “is an unmarked police vehicle with two uniforms inside. They’re parked in the library lot watching us through a telephoto lens.” “You mean they’re taking our picture right now?” “Probably,” Win said. “How’s my hair?” Win made an eh gesture with his hand. Myron”
“Win said, “Did you do her?” “Yes. Many times. But not in the last seven years.” “Good one. Pray tell, did she stop by to shag for old times’ sake?” “ ‘Shag?’ ” “My Anglo ancestory. Well?” “A gentleman never kisses and tells. But yes.” “And you refused?” “I remain chaste.” “Your chivalry,” Win said. “Some would call it admirable.” “But not you.” “No, I’d call it—and I’m breaking out the big words here so pay attention—really, really moronic.”
“Business was brisk at Chang’s. Maxine saw Myron enter and gestured with her head for him to come forward. Myron moved ahead of the line and followed her into the back. The smell of chemicals and lint was cloying. It felt like dust particles were clinging to his lungs. He was relieved when she opened the back door. Roger”
“Win hung up. Five minutes later Myron entered the restaurant. Cingle didn’t disappoint. She was curvy to the max, built like a Marvel comic drawing come to life. Myron walked up to Peter Chin, the owner, to say hello. Peter frowned at him.”
“Roger was a skinny kid. His arms were reeds with absolutely no definition. He did not look up as she spoke.”
“The alley reeked, as all alleys do, of past garbage and dried urine. Myron waited for Roger to look up at him. Roger didn’t.”
“Myron made a skeptical face. Since the kid’s head was still down, the effort was a bit of a waste. “Look at me, Roger.” He”
“Years ago, Myron had found this all somewhat poignant and oddly comforting—the war relic now housing artists—but the world was different now. In the eighties and nineties, it had all been cute and quaint. Now this “progress” felt like phony symbolism. Near”
“Joan Rochester looked off. “You’re wondering why I stay with him.” In truth, he wasn’t. First off, awful as this situation was, he was still feeling a little giddy from his phone call with Ali. He knew that was selfish, but this was the first time in seven years he had told a woman that he loved her. He was trying to push all that from his mind, trying to focus on the task at hand, but he couldn’t help feeling a little high from her response. Second—and maybe more relevant—Myron had long ago stopped trying to figure out relationships. He had read about battered woman syndrome and perhaps that was at play here and this was a cry for help. But for some reason, in this particular case, he didn’t care enough to reach out and answer that call.”
“Myron was about to launch into a Berruti-type explanation of how traces didn’t really work that way, but Katie never gave him the chance. “Just leave us alone!” And then she hung up. Like another dopey TV cliché, Myron said, “Hello? Hello?” when he knew that Katie Rochester had hung up and was gone. They”
“The girls were both high school seniors, both pretty in that coltish way. The one sitting on the corner of his old bed—the one he had met for the first time an hour ago—was named Erin. Myron had started dating Erin’s mother, a widow and freelance magazine writer named Ali Wilder, two months ago. This party, here at the house Myron had grown up in and now owned, was something of a “coming out” party for Myron and Ali as a couple. The”
“He nodded again. She walked away. Myron stood and headed in the opposite direction. He took out his cell phone and hit the speed-dial number one slot. Win answered it. “Articulate.” “Was it Katie Rochester?” He had expected something like this—Katie not cooperating. So Myron had prepared. Win was on the scene in Manhattan, ready to follow. It was, in fact, better. She would head back to wherever she was hiding. Win would tag along and learn all. “Looked like her,” Win said. “She was with a dark-haired paramour.”
“He nodded again. She walked away. Myron stood and headed in the opposite direction. He took out his cell phone and hit the speed-dial number one slot. Win answered it. “Articulate.” “Was it Katie Rochester?” He had expected something like this—Katie not cooperating. So Myron had prepared. Win was on the scene in Manhattan, ready to follow. It was, in fact, better. She would head back to wherever she was hiding. Win would tag along and learn all. “Looked like her,” Win said. “She was with a dark-haired paramour.” “And now?” “After hanging up, she and said paramour began heading downtown by foot. By the way, the paramour is carrying a firearm in a shoulder holster.” That wasn’t good. “You’re on them?” “I’ll pretend you didn’t ask me that.” “I’m on my way.”
“Claire beamed. “Ali’s great, isn’t she?” “She is.” “Am I the greatest matchmaker ever?” “Like something out of a bad road production of Fiddler,” he said. “I’m not rushing things. But I am the greatest, aren’t I? It’s okay, I can take it. I’m the best ever.” “We’re still talking about matchmaking, right?” “Fresh. I know I’m the best at the other.” Myron said, “Eh.” She punched his arm and left. He watched her walk away, shook his head, smiled. In a sense, you are always seventeen years old and waiting for your life to begin. Ten”
“This was fun,” Ali said. Myron was still smiling. Ali looked up at him with these wonderful green-brown eyes. She had red-blond hair and there were still remnants of childhood freckles. Her face was wide and her smile just held him. “What?” she said. “You look beautiful.” “Man, you are smooth.” “I don’t want to brag, but yes. Yes, I am.” Ali”
“You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?” “Always was,” Myron said. “Yeah, but you used to have a sweet jumper from the top of the key. Now what do you got?” “Raw animal magnetism and supernatural charisma?” “I’m going to hang up now.” He”
“Since it would take a few minutes to set up, Myron took some unnecessary turns. Two minutes later, Myron took the right on Pleasant Valley Way. Up ahead, he saw Zorra standing by the pizzeria. She wore her ’30s blond wig and smoked a cigarette in a holder and looked just like Veronica Lake after a real bad bender, if Veronica Lake was six feet tall and had a Homer Simpson five o’clock shadow and was really, really ugly. Zorra”
“Myron used the left-turn signal and pulled to the side of the road, two blocks ahead of Zorra. He rolled down his window so he could hear. Zorra stood near an open parking spot. It was natural. The car following Myron’s pulled into the spot to see where Myron was headed. Of course, he could have stopped anywhere on the street. Zorra had been ready for that. The rest was, as already noted, frighteningly simple. Zorra strolled over to the back of the car. She had been wearing high heels for the past fifteen years, but she still walked like a newborn colt on bad acid. Myron”
“The storefront was a nail salon called Nail-R-Us in a not-yet-redeveloped section of Queens. The building had that decrepit thing going on, as if leaning against it would cause a wall to collapse. The rust on the fire escape was so thick that tetanus seemed a far greater threat than smoke inhalation. Every window was blocked by either a heavy shade or a plank of wood. The structure was four levels and ran almost the entire length of the block. Myron”
“So pray tell,” Win said, “what is the big attraction?” “Are you for real?” “I am indeed.” “Well, here’s a news flash, Win. First off, while it’s not really important, I disagree with your awarded score.” “Oh? So how would rate Ms. Wilder?” “I’m not getting into that with you. But for one thing, Ali has the kind of looks that grow on you. At first you think she’s attractive enough, and then, as you get to know her—” “Bah.” “Bah?” “Self-rationalization.” “Well, here’s another news flash for you. It’s not all about looks.” “Bah.” “Again with the bah?” Win re-steepled his fingers. “Let’s play a game. I’m going to say a word. You tell me the first thing that pops in your head.” Myron closed his eyes. “I don’t know why I discuss matters of the heart with you. It’s like talking about Mozart with a deaf man.”
“The storefront was a nail salon called Nail-R-Us in a not-yet-redeveloped section of Queens. The building had that decrepit thing going on, as if leaning against it would cause a wall to collapse. The rust on the fire escape was so thick that tetanus seemed a far greater threat than smoke inhalation. Every window was blocked by either a heavy shade or a plank of wood. The structure was four levels and ran almost the entire length of the block. Myron said to Win, “The R on the sign is crossed out.” “That’s intentional.” “Why?” Win looked at him, waited. Myron did it in his head. Nail-R-Us had become Nail Us. “Oh,” Myron said. “Cute.”
“The places we have known do not belong solely to the world of space in which we situate them for our greater convenience. They were only a thin slice among contiguous impressions which formed our life at that time; the memory of a certain image is but regret for a certain moment; and houses, roads, avenues are as fleeting, alas, as the years.”
“There is no point in treating a depressed person as though she were just feeling sad, saying, There now, hang on, you’ll get over it. Sadness is more or less like a head cold—with patience, it passes. Depression is like cancer.”
“Grasping the staff, Donia pressed her mouth to Beira’s still body and inhaled. The rest of the Winter Queen’s cold flowed into her, rolling through her like an icy wave, churning until it suddenly stopped and lay quiet — a fathomless frozen pool surrounded by ice-laden trees and unmarred white fields.
The words came to her from the white world, sliding through her lips like a winter wind, "I am the Winter Queen. As those before me, I will carry the wind and ice."
And she was healed, stronger than she’d ever been.”
“Human science fragments everything in order to understand it, kills everything in order to examine it. ”
“There's a but, isn't there?" said Coraline. "I can feel it. Like a rain cloud.”
BookQuoters is a community of passionate readers who enjoy sharing the most meaningful, memorable and interesting quotes from great books. As the world communicates more and more via texts, memes and sound bytes, short but profound quotes from books have become more relevant and important. For some of us a quote becomes a mantra, a goal or a philosophy by which we live. For all of us, quotes are a great way to remember a book and to carry with us the author’s best ideas.
We thoughtfully gather quotes from our favorite books, both classic and current, and choose the ones that are most thought-provoking. Each quote represents a book that is interesting, well written and has potential to enhance the reader’s life. We also accept submissions from our visitors and will select the quotes we feel are most appealing to the BookQuoters community.
Founded in 2023, BookQuoters has quickly become a large and vibrant community of people who share an affinity for books. Books are seen by some as a throwback to a previous world; conversely, gleaning the main ideas of a book via a quote or a quick summary is typical of the Information Age but is a habit disdained by some diehard readers. We feel that we have the best of both worlds at BookQuoters; we read books cover-to-cover but offer you some of the highlights. We hope you’ll join us.