I write at a pace that suits me, and sometimes it's two books a year, but most often it's one. — Michael Connelly Copy Share Image
The setting sun burned the sky pink and orange in the same bright hues as surfers' bathing suits. It was beautiful deception, Bosch thought, as he drove north on the Hollywood Freeway to home. Sunsets did that here. Made you… — Michael Connelly Copy Share Image
It's about being fair. It's about Black Lives Matter. Yes, they matter. Everybody counts or nobody counts, and I think if more cops had… — Michael Connelly Copy Share Image
“Someone’s coming.” Terry McCaleb looked at his wife and then followed her eyes down to the winding road below. He could see the golf… — Michael Connelly Copy Share Image
“There is no end of things in the heart. Somebody once told me that. She said it came from a poem she believed in.… — Michael Connelly Copy Share Image
I chose deliberately for Harry Bosch to age chronologically with the books. — Michael Connelly Copy Share Image
“Are you okay?” he asked. “I’m fine, yeah,” she said. She wiped tears off her cheeks. “Somebody who totally fucked me over died today,”… — Michael Connelly Copy Share Image
“At the bottom of the hill, after Boston College, the route passes St. Ignatius Church on the right. It was here that textile worker… — Michael Connelly Copy Share Image
“He said no. He said, in very fine English, ‘I buy, I don’t sell.’ Then he escorted me out. But I think that was… — Michael Connelly Copy Share Image
“Living in L.A. sometimes felt like you were riding shotgun with the devil to the apocalypse.” — Michael Connelly Copy Share Image
“The paying jobs were few and she was often taken advantage of by the leeches who were part of the entertainment industry. But she… — Michael Connelly Copy Share Image
“Lean in, invade that foot and a half that is all theirs, their own space. Lean back when you get what you want. It’s… — Michael Connelly Copy Share Image
