Enough bullets had hit Ellie over the years to know when a writer was about to take aim. — John Marrs

“I am worth more than this, Mark,” she snapped. “And if that doesn’t sink into your head pretty bloody soon, it’s going to be too late.”

Don’t worry. The only skeletons in my closet belong to the mice.

“Don’t be like that, mate. After all, it all turned out okay in the end, right?”

If by okay, he meant a dead fiancée, a child that wasn’t his and his soul mate lost forever on the other side of the world, then yeah, he was great, Nick thought bitterly.