“Why is it always the world? Why is it never just half a block? Or Jersey? You know, something we could live without?”
“People--stupid when they lived; potentially stupid when they died.”
“Niko caught my hand and slapped it lightly down on the bar. “Pistol whipping elderly women isn’t precisely our mission statement, Cal.”
I hadn’t been going to pistol-whip her. Yell at her a little more, then pick her up and toss her out into the street. Some risk of a broken hip there, but that wasn’t pistol-whipping… unless she tried to come back in.”
“It is now. It is always now. Now is good. Now could be the best. My name is Catcher. My name was Catcher.
My name...my name...
I am...
I am lost, I am found and then I am free and I am happy.
When I jump over that edge, someone leaps with me, shoulder to shoulder. I smell kinship on him. Kinship is all. I'm not alone.
Never alone.
I land, earth below me, moon above. I am wolf. We are pack.
And that is all I need.”
“Hope for the best; prepare for the worst.”
“I've always enjoyed a challenge," Niko remarked, shifting through the powder to lift something out. "I think perhaps there are other things I could enjoy instead. Bonsai trees, painting, forging my own weapons. The opportunities are endless." He opened his hand to show me the small braid of several yellowed hairs. "Voodoo." "Think it would work?" I perked up. Killing from a distance wasn't usually my thing, but in this case, I'd make an exception.”
“Niko was a man of few words and flying, sugary snacks. I like that in a human. ~Catcher”
“Pick up your clothes. I am not your maid. How do I know this? A maid cannot kill you with a tube sock. I can.”
“office by now. It still didn’t take long to find him, though. You could only go so far when you were nothing but a torso and arms. He’d pulled his upper half into a patch of blackness, but I could still smell that”
“Have you ever believed in something so completely that you were willing to give up everything and everyone in your life to protect it?”
“When you drive down Cemetery Road, the angel appears to be looking directly at you. Yet once you pass the monument and look back over your shoulder, the angel is still looking at you. Thus the appellation: the Turning Angel.”
“Don’t shoot me, Sidney, I love you.”
He had shot him right through the words that still haunted him today, the most perfect words ever said to him.”
“The functional, emotional, and social dimensions of the jobs that customers need to get done constitute the circumstances in which they buy. In other words, the jobs that customers are trying to get done or the outcomes that they are trying to achieve constitute a circumstance-based categorization of markets.3 Companies that target their products at the circumstances in which customers find themselves, rather than at the customers themselves, are those that can launch predictably successful products. Put another way, the critical unit of analysis is the circumstance and not the customer.”
“reminded me of a quote by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle—“life is infinitely stranger than anything the mind could invent.”
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