There'll be times when the only refuge is books. Then you'll read as if you meant it, as if your life depended on it. — Ken Bruen Copy Share Image
The writing is a joy, so seamless you nearly miss the sheer artistry of the style and the terrific, wry humour. — Ken Bruen Copy Share Image
“You know, Jack . . . you don’t mind if I call you Jack, do you?” “It’s my name, just don’t wear it out.” — Ken Bruen Copy Share Image
“During my final London weeks, I'd watched Wolf Hall and marveled at the absolute stillness of Mark Rylance as Thomas Cromwell. In an era… — Ken Bruen Copy Share Image
And so evil flourishes and spreads because decent people don't want to make a fuss. — Ken Bruen Copy Share Image
“A mini-cab later and he arrived in Stockwell, where the pit bulls travelled in twos. Ludlow Road is near the tube station, a short… — Ken Bruen Copy Share Image
“Galway born Jack Taylor helped apprehend the person suspected of killing swans. In recent weeks, residents of the Claddagh had been outraged at the… — Ken Bruen Copy Share Image
“She obviously had disappointing news in her teens and wasn't yet recovered.” — Ken Bruen Copy Share Image
“Your life is in some bizarre state when priests are throwing abuse at you on the street.” — Ken Bruen Copy Share Image
“I have no idea where this will lead us, but I have a definite feeling it will be a place both wonderful and strange.”… — Ken Bruen Copy Share Image
“Friday night, I resolved to have a quiet time. Two pints and a chips carry-home. Alas, the pints got away from me and I… — Ken Bruen Copy Share Image
