I can't remember coming across a more precise evocation of innocence lost since Golding's The Lord of the Flies. With The Death of Sweet Mister, Daniel Woodrell has written his masterpiece-spare, dark, and incandescently beautiful. It broke my heart. — Dennis Lehane Copy Share Image
He wondered if this was what clinical depression felt like, a total numbness, a weary lack of hope. — Dennis Lehane Copy Share Image
I held her, he wanted to say, and if I knew for certain that all it would take to hold her again would be… — Dennis Lehane Copy Share Image
“Everyone I know lies, breaks their word, and has perfectly legitimate excuses for why they do. Except you. Haven't you ever noticed that? Two times in twelve years, you said you'd find this girl no matter what. And you did. Why? Because you gave your word, babe. And that might not mean shit to the rest of the world, but… — Dennis Lehane Copy Share
“If a man was lucky, he was moving toward something his whole life.” — dennis lehane Copy Share Image
“After my daughter was born, I'd considered buying a shotgun to ward off potention suitors fourteen or so years up the road. Now, as… — Dennis Lehane Copy Share Image
“I once again felt an odd flush of admiration for my partner's faith in a religion I had long ago abandoned. She doesn't advertise it or announce it at every turn, and she has nothing but scorn for the patriarchal hierarchy that runs the church, but she nevertheless holds firm to a belief in the religion and ritual with a… — Dennis Lehane Copy Share
“And she was-definitely-a woman who did not shrink from gauntlets, but stepped up to them, and said, Okay, bring it. Bring your worst. I… — Dennis Lehane Copy Share Image
“Jimmy looked back over at his wife, and Celeste could feel the tenderest of aches in the look. She could feel another teardrop piece… — Dennis Lehane Copy Share Image
“She told him that he had the most beautiful voice she'd ever heard, that it sounded like whiskey and wood smoke.” — Dennis Lehane Copy Share Image
My daughter squealed again and both Bubba and I winced. It’s not an attractive sound, that. It’s high-pitched and it enters your ear canals like hot glass. No matter how much I love my daughter, I will never love her squealing. Or maybe I will. Maybe I do. Driving down 93, I realized once and for all, that I love… — Dennis Lehane Copy Share
“The only people who ask questions like ‘Did he want to be something besides a bartender?’ are people who can become whatever they want.… — Dennis Lehane Copy Share Image
