The Girl Who Played with Fire

There are no innocents. There are, however, different degrees of responsibility.

Don’t ever fight with Lisbeth Salander. Her attitude towards the rest of the world is that if someone threatens her with a gun, she’ll get a bigger gun.

But she wished she had had the guts to go up to him and say hello. Or possibly break his legs, she wasn't sure which.

When she came to her senses again she cut off all contact with him. It had not been easy, but she had steeled herself. The last time she saw him she was standing on a platform in the tunnelbana at Gamla Stan and he was sitting in the train on his way downtown. She had stared at him for a whole minute and decided that she did not have a grain of feeling left, because it would have been the same as bleeding to death. Fuck you.

Salander was the woman who hated men who hate women.

Always retain the ability to walk away, without sentimentality, from a situation that felt unmanageable. That was a basic rule of survival. Don't lift a finger for a lost cause.

Dear Government... I'm going to have a serious talk with you if I ever find anyone to talk to.

There were not so many physical threats that could not be countered with a decent hammer.

She had stared at him for a whole minute and decided that she did not have a grain of feeling left, because it would have been the same as bleeding to death. Fuck You.

He felt that he had to find Salander and hold her close. She would probably bite him if he tried.

Men could be as big as a house and made of granite, but they all had balls in the same place.

I believe that everyone has it in them to kill another person. In desperation, or hatred, or at least to defend themselves.

It proved once again the theory that no security system is a match for a stupid employee.

Those pointless equations, to which no solution exists, are called absurdities.

their relationship was built on friendship, and in matters of friendship he was boundlessly loyal. It was a relationship that would survive the harshest test.

No matter how hard she tried to concentrate on something else, to pass the time and to distract her from the situation she was in, the fear came trickling out. It hovered like a cloud of gas around her, threatening to penetrate her pores and poison her.

I am what I am,' Salander said 'I ran away from everything and everybody. I should have said goodbye.

It was completely impossible to box with her. She had only one style, which we called Terminator Mode. She would try to nail her opponent, and it didn’t matter if it was just a warm-up of friendly sparring.

She had discovered that the most effective method of keeping the fear at bay was to fantasize about something that gave her a feeling of strength. She closed her eyes and conjured up the smell of gasoline.

She saw him drenched with gasoline. She could actually feel the box of matches in her hand.

Salander's fingers emerged like something dead from beneath the earth. Had there been any human watching, he would probably have reacted like the fox. He was gone like a shot.

When all the media assertions were put together, the police appeared to be hunting for a psychotic lesbian who had joined a cult of Satanists that propagandized for S&M sex and hated society in general and men in particular. Because Salander had been abroad for the past year, there might be international connections too.

His attitude had always been that if a woman clearly indicated that she did not want anything more to do with him, he would go on his way. Not respecting such a message would in his eyes, show a lack of respect for her.

A journalist finds out things by asking questions of people who know.