I really hate those books where the murderer turns out to be somebody you never heard of who pops up in the last chapter.
“At her birthday, my seven-year-old daughter will say that she wants these big cakes and certain expensive toys as presents, and I can't say no to her. It would just break my heart. But when I was little, for birthdays we just played outside and we were happy if we got any cake.”
“I don't ever want to be a sentimentalist. I prefer to be a realist. I'm not a romantic really.”