Csi Quotes

You're an investigator - can't nobody find stuff out like a woman. Y'all put the police to shame, make the little investigative tricks they show on CSI and Law & Order: SVU look like counting lessons on Sesame Street.

Look guys, you might want to think twice before doing this. I’m not an easy target. And I’ve seen CSI. I know how to get rid of the bodies and everything.

They'll have to bring in Mulder an' Scully, because there ain't no CSI on the planet that'll ever be able to explain this.

I bet if you look at the average teenager and the average adult, the average teenager has read more books in the last year than the average adult. Now of course the adult would be all like, 'I'm busy, I got a job, I got stuff to do.' WHATEVER! READ! I mean, you're watching CSI: Miami. Why would you be watching CSI: Miami, when you could be READING CSI: Miami, the novelization?

Look at the huge success of Fifty Shades of Grey. The girl in the book lets a rich guy beat her and ritually rape her, and she likes it! She finds it erotic! But imagine if Christian Grey wasn't a billionaire. Imagine if he lived in a dirty old trailer down by the river. Then that story wouldn't be a sexy romance novel, but an episode of CSI.

Every liberal in the country must watch Fox News for one year, and every conservative in the country must watch MSNBC for one year. (Middle-of-the-roaders could stick with CSI)

The man sitting across from me at the cafe was thinking about murdering his wife. He imagined stabbing her and pretending like it was a robbery. Or perhaps, he thought, he'd take her hiking, push her off a cliff and say it was an accident; that she'd slipped. I wanted to tell him it wouldn't work, that in those CSI shows on T.V. they always suspected the husband first.

People are heavy when they're dead. I also nearly ralphed every time I caught a glimpse of the skin flap flapping, and I'd seen enough CSI to know that my stomach contents could be used to link me to the site.

SVU, CSI, CSI: NY. These shows, they're all about things being done to females and children. If they were full of thing being done to say, Asians or black people, well, that probably wouldn't be allowed - not as many shows all the time. But females and children are okay.

You know how, in court, they talk about the CSI effect? Like, everyone on the jury has watched so much CSI that they believe science can prove anything?" "Yeah." "Well, I think there's an Evil Husband effect. Everyone has seen too many true-crime shows where the husband is always, always the killer, so people automatically assume the husband's the bad guy.

Wow,” he said, his voice as sarcastic as before. “I had no idea I was related to such an accomplished detective. Is that where you were the past couple of days? Doing undercover work? Tell me, Detective Oliviera, what else did you and your CSI team learn during your amazing investigation?” “She learned,” Mr. Liu said, taking a menacing step forward, “that boys who smart off to ladies often get slapped.

CSI, Law & Order: Special Victims Unit, Criminal Minds, Blue Bloods, Castle, Bones, and Hawaii Five-0

The Nightside CSI is only one man, pleasant enough, calm and easy going, and very professional. It probably helps that he has multiple personality disorder with a sub-personality for every speciality and discipline in his profession. One to handle fingerprints, another to examine blood splatter or look for magical residues...He's really quite good at his job though he does tend to argue with himself. Between himself he knows everything he needs to know. Each sub-personality has a different voice. Some of them are women. I've never asked.

Yep,” Eddie said, “if you wanted a change from intelligence, then CID is the place to be.

No one took any notice of you if your lobotomy still seemed to be working.

Honestly, I suspect that in this day and age most murders could be solved by the correct Google search. It could be a web series. CSI: Bing. I

Can you zoom in?” The foreman rolled his eyes. “This here ain’t CSI—it’s Radio-fucking-Shack.

I think you’ll find that in CSI they never set out to murder people. They solve murders.

I’m serious. You know how, in court, they talk about the CSI effect? Like, everyone on the jury has watched so much CSI that they believe science can prove anything?” “Yeah.” “Well, I think there’s an Evil Husband effect. Everyone has seen too many true-crime shows where the husband is always, always the killer, so people automatically assume the husband’s the bad guy.

We’ll have to see if CSI picked up anything from the scene,’ says Nelson. ‘Are they finished?’ ‘Yes,’ says Tanya. ‘Shall I liaise with them?’ Tanya loves liaising, it sounds so much more important than keeping in touch. ‘If

- Apát! - szólította meg [a szerzetes] nagy tisztelettel az elöljáróját. - Függetlenül a Tanítás Három Kocsijának eszméitől, a Hármas Világ régióitól, a Létezés Hat Világának lényeitől, a tíz állapot és a tízezer dolog birodalmaitól, a négy alaptételtől és a száz tagadástól, mondd meg nekem, mi értelme volt egyáltalán, hogy Bóddhidharma elhozta nekünk az indiai vallást? - Ajjaj! Ajjaj! - vakarózott az apát. - Most, barátom, alighanem megfogtál. Fogalmam sincs, mi értelme volt annak, hogy Bóddhidharma elhozta nekünk az indiai vallást. Ha idáig eljutok, itt én is mindig elakadok - felelte Lin-Csi, és őszintén sajnálkozott. A szerzetes visszament társaihoz, és elmondta nekik, hogy van ezzel a kérdéssel az apát. Mindannyian épp így voltak vele. Hosszan hallgattak, aztán megfogadták, soha többé nem kérdezik meg egymástól, hogy miért is buddhisták.

She settled her head back on her pillow, sighed deeply, and tried to relax, tried to let herself unwind and go back to sleep, but the harder she tried, the more sleep eluded her. Something was lurking there, hiding in a quiet corner of her mind, waiting to ambush her as soon as she started to drift off.

The longer we’re alive, the more friends —- and adversaries —- we create, and collect. - Jim Brass

Law gave us Crime Science gave us Forensics Research gave us Hope

Don’t be worried if people talk about me. That’s merely advertising.

glad he had not been the one to deliver the

Medicinal alcohol was such a profitable business that it allowed Walgreens pharmacies to expand from around twenty stores to more than five hundred during the 1920s.

Egy balga szerzőt jól megismerni tulajdonképpen tiszta haszon. Ostobasága vagy hamis érzelmei nem sodorhatnak veszélybe, hiszen ostobaságát és hamisságát csak olvasom. Nem társam, szövetségesem, akivel én is együtt sodródom, akinek állításaiban osztozom. Nem bíztam rá magam, csak kívülről, józanul és hűvösen figyelem. Ha eltéved a világban, csak ő látja kárát. Nem megyek utána, nem követek sötétben vakot!

If I could wave a magic wand and have one wish granted, I’d wish for an end to world hunger; the small shit could wait in line. If, however, the god or genie who bestowed the magic wand told me my one wish had to do with American politics, I think I’d wave it and make the following proclamation: “Every liberal in the country must watch Fox News for one year, and every conservative in the country must watch MSNBC for one year.” (Middle-of-the-roaders could stick with CSI.)

Around the time I'd gotten my invitation to the reunion, Smithton had been in the news because of a murder investigation. Two men had been slain in their home and those responsible had been at large for quite some time before being brought in and charged. As brutal as it all was, I followed this story with half a mind of amusement simply because it all took place in a town called Penguin. Once I'd read the headline Penguin police on lookout for murder weapon it stopped being a terrible crime in my head and just became a fantastic episode of "CSI: Antarctica".

There are details about your life I really do not want to know about. You told me he taught you how to fight with weapons, but I guess I never…” “Put two and two together?” Katie grinned. “That’s not like you, detective Jules.” “I know. I guess I overlooked the gory details. Blood and guts have never been my forte. I like action. Give me Mission Impossible and CSI, but leave out the gruesome details.” They stopped upon reaching the entrance to the barn. “Roller skating disco lover turns FBI crime scene investigator. I think there’s a book waiting to be written for you.

All right,” she said. “Inductive reasoning. It’s what those so-called detectives on CSI, SVU, LMNOP and all the rest of them call deductive reasoning, which is wrong and they should know better. It’s inductive reasoning, a tool you will use frequently in geometry as well as calculus and trigonometry, assuming you get that far and that certainly won’t be you, Jacquon. Stop messing with that girl’s hair and pay attention. Your grade on that last test was so low I had to write it on the bottom of my shoe.” Mrs. Washington glared at Jacquon until his face melted. She began again: “Inductive reasoning is reasoning to the most likely explanation. It begins with one or more observations, and from those observations we come to a conclusion that seems to make sense. All right. An example: Jacquon was walking home from school and somebody hit him on the head with a brick twenty-five times. Mrs. Washington and her husband, Wendell, are the suspects. Mrs. Washington is five feet three, a hundred and ten pounds, and teaches school. Wendell is six-two, two-fifty, and works at a warehouse. So who would you say is the more likely culprit?” Isaiah and the rest of the class said Wendell. “Why?” Mrs. Washington said. “Because Mrs. Washington may have wanted to hit Jacquon with a brick twenty-five times but she isn’t big or strong enough. Seems reasonable given the facts at hand, but here’s where inductive reasoning can lead you astray. You might not have all the facts. Such as Wendell is an accountant at the warehouse who exercises by getting out of bed in the morning, and before Mrs. Washington was a schoolteacher she was on the wrestling team at San Diego State in the hundred-and-five-to-hundred-and-sixteen-pound weight class and would have won her division if that blond girl from Cal Northridge hadn’t stuck a thumb in her eye. Jacquon, I know your mother and if I tell her about your behavior she will beat you ’til your name is Jesus.” The

AT THE VOIR dire the judge asks all the potential jurors to swear that even if they regularly watch CSI, Law & Order, Cold Case Files, or any other television show featuring forensic science and criminal justice, that they have a firm grasp on the difference between television—even reality television—and reality itself, in which we are presumably now mired. One potential juror with several small children says that won’t be a problem for her, because she mostly watches the Cartoon Network; the judge quips that an afternoon spent with the Cartoon Network provides as much or more information about the criminal justice system as a full season of Law & Order.

All right,” she said. “Inductive reasoning. It’s what those so-called detectives on CSI, SVU, LMNOP and all the rest of them call deductive reasoning, which is wrong and they should know better. It’s inductive reasoning, a tool you will use frequently in geometry as well as calculus and trigonometry, assuming you get that far and that certainly won’t be you, Jacquon. Stop messing with that girl’s hair and pay attention. Your grade on that last test was so low I had to write it on the bottom of my shoe.” Mrs. Washington glared at Jacquon until his face melted. She began again: “Inductive reasoning is reasoning to the most likely explanation. It begins with one or more observations, and from those observations we come to a conclusion that seems to make sense. All right. An example: Jacquon was walking home from school and somebody hit him on the head with a brick twenty-five times. Mrs. Washington and her husband, Wendell, are the suspects. Mrs. Washington is five feet three, a hundred and ten pounds, and teaches school. Wendell is six-two, two-fifty, and works at a warehouse. So who would you say is the more likely culprit?” Isaiah

when we consider DNA, the genotype is the DNA sequence that contains instructions for the living organism. The phenotype is the observable characteristics of an organism, such as its anatomy, biochemistry, physiology, and behavior. The genotype interacts with the environment to produce the phenotype. To put this in an everyday situation, consider the blueprint as a house’s genotype and the actual house its phenotype. The phenotypic construction process is the building of the house using the blueprint as information about what and how to do it. The phenotype is related to the genotype that describes it, but there is a world of physical difference between the genotype and the phenotype and even the phenotypic construction process. For one, the genotype is non-dynamic; it is a quiescent, one-dimensional sequence of symbols (DNA’s symbols are nucleotides) that has no energy or time constraints. Like a blueprint, it can sit around for years, as you have probably learned from watching CSI. The genotype dictates what should be constructed (perhaps a really cute dog), but the DNA itself does not look or act anything like a cute dog. On the other hand, the phenotype (the cute dog) is dynamic and uses energy, especially if it is a border collie.

How can this tainted world contain us, how can it contain our dreams? At night, in the freedom of my mind, the shackles of this mortal realm fall away as I soar above the fields and the farms, over forests and hills. I have always dreamed of flying – dreams like this are where the spirit comes alive, where we create our own rules, our own reality. Why should we let other people tell us how to live, or what is right and what is wrong? Flex your wings and soar with me, my little ones. Do you see our land below us? Is it not beautiful? The lake and the fields, the river and the trees, the horses running free beneath the sun. This is our world, our home, our sanctuary, and within it we are safe. Is that a dream? No, it is our reality.

If I could wave a magic wand and have one wish granted, I’d wish for an end to world hunger; the small shit could wait in line. If, however, the god or genie who bestowed the magic wand told me my one wish had to do with American politics, I think I’d wave it and make the following proclamation: “Every liberal in the country must watch Fox News for one year, and every conservative in the country must watch MSNBC for one year.” (Middle-of-the-roaders could stick with CSI.) Can you imagine what that would be like? For the first month, the screams of “What IS this shit???” would echo high to the heavens. For the next three, there would be a period of grumbling readjustment as both sides of the political spectrum realized that, loathsome politics aside, they were still getting the weather, the sports scores, the hard news, and the Geico Gecko. During the next four months, viewers might begin seeing different anchors and commentators, as each news network’s fringe bellowers attracted increasing flak from their new captive audiences. Adamantly shrill editorial stances would begin to modify as a result of tweets and emails saying, “Oh, wait a minute, Slick, that’s fucking ridiculous.” Finally, the viewers themselves might change. Not a lot; just a slide-step or two away from the kumbayah socialists of the left and the Tea Partiers of the right. I’m not saying they’d re-colonize the all-but-deserted middle (lot of cheap real estate there, my brothers and sisters), but they might close in on it a trifle.

I dreamed of a haven, a place of infinite peace, of eternal beauty and everlasting happiness, and I found it – not in my dreams, but in reality.  It is a place of wind and earth, grass and water, horses and birds.  But what good is heaven when you are there alone? 

with such a distinctly macabre MO. ‘Right.’ She heard him exhale deeply. ‘Listen,

wearily, annoyed by her intrusion into

Kind of like CSI investigating a social error—Here’s the corpse of the situation, what do you think killed it?—with the hope of preventing further fatalities. Often as not, it boiled down to missed cues.

Consider yourself very fortunate that I don’t have my camera with me today, Mr. Windermere,” she joked. Well, half-joked. Okay, I’m not joking at all. Gimme my camera and I’d walk away with enough photos to process this place as the crime scene of a double homicide. Note to self: explore possible career as a bona fide CSI.

Richard and I exchanged a look, and then we looked back at Jean-Claude. Jean-Claude with all his fancy fetish yummy clothes, standing there nude and covered in more body fluids than a CSI episode.

What are you talking about Capt., what did they find out?” “Steve your fridge was full of Cyanide powder in everything they could put it in. As well it’s a good thing you ordered all new tires. They removed a bomb from your trunk. It could have injured you seriously or killed you. You fellas have a few angry enemies. Jordon, your place wasn’t much safer, again Cyanide in your foods, and Nitro tucked into your couch. You guys had the CSI’s and the Bomb squads very busy.

She was good at languages and spoke near-perfect Spanish, the primary language in many of the southern states back home.

bloody end of a milk bottle underneath

Getting out, they closed the car doors as quietly as possible, then crept across the muddy yard, Kennedy’s torch showing up the maze of puddles.

that he’d been quadriplegic

Well, the aunt of course,

Marcus built the computer in his computer-building class at high school and I bought all the add-ons with the check from my co-star appearance on CSI, where I played a murderer's sister. The part was emotionally draining, but after mom said I could buy Microsoft Word and The Sims with the part of my paycheck she wasn't using for bills, it was worth it.

Firstly, we started the CSI Coders club in seventh grade

The Mammoth Book of Muhammad Ali The Mammoth Book of Best British Crime 9 The Mammoth Book of Conspiracies The Mammoth Book of Lost Symbols The Mammoth Book of Nebula Awards SF The Mammoth Book of Body Horror The Mammoth Book of Steampunk The Mammoth Book of New CSI The Mammoth Book of Gangs The Mammoth Book of SF Wars The Mammoth Book of One-Liners The Mammoth Book of Ghost Romance The Mammoth Book of Best New SF 25 The Mammoth Book of Jokes 2 The Mammoth Book of Horror 23 The Mammoth Book of Slasher Movies The Mammoth Book of Street Art The Mammoth Book of Ghost Stories by Women The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica 11 The Mammoth Book of Irish Humour The Mammoth Book of Unexplained Phenomena The Mammoth Book of Futuristic Romance The Mammoth Book of Best British Crime 10 The Mammoth Book of Combat The Mammoth Book of Quick & Dirty Erotica The Mammoth Book of Dark Magic The Mammoth Book of New Sudoku The Mammoth Book of Zombies!

What Ockham’s razor says is that when faced with two theories, when the available data cannot distinguish between them, we should study in depth the simplest of the theories.

late, too, just so you know. Both took off a while ago, maybe half an hour ’fore you got here.” “All right,” Caine said, “now it’s

across from me at the café was thinking about murdering his wife. He imagined stabbing her and pretending like it was a robbery. Or perhaps, he thought, he’d take her hiking, push her off a cliff and say it was an accident; that she’d slipped. I wanted to tell him it wouldn’t work, that in those CSI shows on T.V. they always suspected the husband first. Instead, I huddled deep within my down jacket, the diner booth pressing uncomfortably hard against my back. I didn’t dare move for fear of drawing attention to myself. I didn’t want to know his thoughts. I wished he’d keep them to himself. But I suppose he

The CSI team had cordoned off the areas of interest. You

I know that story, when you start a fight, the main idea is one to survive, one to be the victim and one to be the killer. This explains why FBI, CSI and DIA and other departments are here!

Look, all I know is that she didn’t, like, go out with lots of different guys. They digged her but really, she was just as happy on her tobler.’ The detectives both looked blank. ‘Her tobler?’ Melanie rolled her eyes. ‘Happy on her own? Toblerone?

imagined stabbing her and pretending like it was a robbery. Or perhaps, he thought, he’d take her hiking, push her off a cliff and say it was an accident; that she’d slipped. I wanted to tell him it wouldn’t work, that in those CSI shows on T.V. they always suspected the husband first. Instead, I huddled deep within my down jacket, the diner booth pressing uncomfortably hard against my back. I didn’t dare move for fear of drawing attention to myself. I didn’t want to know his thoughts. I wished

It happened two days ago. Some dump between Le Havre and Rouen. Notre-Dame-de-Gravenchon—how’s that for a name? Bodies unearthed on the banks of the Seine—you must have heard about it on the tube.” “That thing at the construction site, where they’re laying a pipeline?” “Right. The media was all over it. They were already there because the site itself is such a hot-button issue. They discovered five stiffs with their skulls sawed off. Criminal Investigations in Rouen is on the scene, working with the local cops. Their DA was about to send in the CSI boys, but in the end we caught it. I can’t say I’m too thrilled—in this weather, it’s disgusting.

soon he was back in the same self-destructive

was typical. For reasons he couldn’t quite fathom, Father Byrne felt compelled to investigate what was making the magpies so excitable. He had plenty of time; it was just before eight, and worshippers wouldn’t begin to arrive for another half-hour or so.

Peter O’Callahan.

Our unfortunate dog walker had been out walking her dog when she had been hit in the face by a bag of dog faeces hanging from a tree branch. What upset her most was that it was still warm. No, I informed her, I wouldn’t be conducting DNA tests on the contents, no matter how many episodes of CSI she’d seen.

The Nursing Home This Sunday, I paid a visit to a nursing home and noticed the empty bed in the room adjacent to my mom's. Crisp sheets stood proxy for where her elderly neighbor lay, an unshaven man or a woman with whiskers, I forget which, when I visited last ~ it couldn't have been a month, two at the most. The empty bed's corners were meticulously tucked in, like an army recruit's at boot camp, bleached of any possible embarrassment. After countless episodes of CSI, I cannot hear the word 'bleach' without thinking of incriminating evidence linking a victim to a killer. You must admit an empty bed at a nursing home is creepy; every empty room seems a trap, every lackadaisical nurse an accessory to murder, every administrator a potential Adolf Eichmann facilitating a program of geriatric genocide... Shit, I forgot to validate my parking. "Mom, I'll be right back," I say, with a smile, closing the room with the empty bed, bleaching my head of any possible embarrassment.

The CSI team had cordoned off the areas of interest.

In 2013, Great Britain created a new criminal investigative division, the Food Crimes Unit—a real-life CSI devoted solely to this issue. Italy

Choose something which is better and from which you can learn something, ... here I am going to give few examples. CSI:Miami - Good Choice Dexter - Another Good CHoice Breaking Bad - Another Good Choice Person Of Interest - Another Good Choice

Picking up the empty cans, I brought them over to the trashcan Aiden was placing a fresh bag in. “Cleaning up?” he asked, fitting the bag to the can. “This is unexpected.” “I’m a new girl.” I dumped the cans. “Are you okay?” Aiden hooked a finger into the belt of my jeans and led me over to the sink. Then he rolled up my sleeves, turned on the tap and picked up the hand soap. I rolled my eyes, but shoved my hands under the warm water. “Aiden?” “What? You’re going to have sticky hands and be touching everything.” He squirted the apple-scented soap on my hands. “You’ll leave little fingerprints all over the place.” I watched my hands disappear under his larger ones and sort of forgot about what I was asking. Who knew washing hands could be so… distracting? “Are you concerned about CSI visiting the place?” “You never know.” I let him finish, because who was I to stop his OCD at the moment, then I dried my hands.

every

gnarled

raked

You like little girls, don’t you?’ Jess challenged. She stepped forward. ‘You want to touch my private parts, right? Go ahead then.’ And with that, she lifted her skirt and

shift the

year, is veteran true crime superstar author and forensic psychologist Katherine Ramsland, who has written 47 books and over 1,000 articles on serial killers, CSI, vampires, forensic science, mass murder, sex offenders and ghosts. Joining us also is this year’s winner of

We must die to one life before we can enter another.

She had everything here, but like Eve, honeyed words made her want more, want something beyond love and happiness. And so she left us. So now I must again head out into the wicked world to find another, guide them to our home, and welcome them to the bosom of our family.

But now I fear the walls may be breached, the shell cracked.  Our family is cracking, fear and anxiety haunt our dreams, unanswered questions hover on our lips.  How will we stay strong, stay together? I have been here before, suffered through this once already – and this is a suffering too much for one man to bear.  And so my failures haunt me. I can see their eyes at night, shining in the darkness, accusing me of my greatest failure, failure to protect those that I love.  What more damning accusation can there be?  How can I sleep not knowing where my darlings are, that they are gone because of me, that in their hour of need I was not there?  But now I must again head out into the wicked world to find another, guide them to our home, welcome them to the bosom of our family.

But they were realists, and had long stopped hoping for the dream conclusion to their nightmare. They longed now just to know what had happened to Megan, to have a final resting place to visit, a place to lay flowers – somewhere their beautiful daughter could rest in peace. Their lives had ended the day Megan disappeared and finding her was their only desire while they were still breathing. Like so many others who’d made contact since the public appeal about the tattooed girls, the Dignams were compelled to come here, to have somebody listen to their story and to maybe find some truth – even if that truth meant hearing the worst news any parent could ever hear.

I feel the weight upon me, the weight of expectation, of fear.  I have failed once before, and now the specter of failure looms over me again.  I have sworn to protect them, to shield them from a toxic world, but the fear has crept into our own world – the fear of uncertainty. Our safety is everything, it is what defines us, what makes us who we are.  We are complete, one family, one being, but now I see that our world is fragile.  Like an egg, our shell is all too precious, and once it is broken it can never be repaired, things can never be the same.

They gave the garda on duty all the details they could, showed them photos and old documents from her missing person case. And then the Dignams went home to continue doing the very thing they had spent the last two decades doing – wait.

When first I saw it moving across the waves I readied myself, stood steadfast, armed for the battle ahead. But then as she stood before me, the past no longer mattered. I was entranced. Her beauty held me captive, banished the demons that tormented me. Her words gave me strength; I knew what I must do. We had to be together, together in a place free from the pain and misery that had surrounded me for so long. We must find our sanctuary, a place fit for eternal beauty, somewhere the pain and sorrow of this world had no place. A land where I will be king and we will protect the righteousness of youth.

Stephen and Julia Dignam entered the police station the following morning. Both were in their early fifties but looked older, the sleepless nights and worry taking their toll. Julia linked her husband’s arm through her own and in her other hand she held a ringbinder close to her chest. Written on the spine in faded ink was one word: Megan. The Dignam’s daughter had vanished without a trace twenty years before and every new story of a missing child or unidentified body brought back a new flood of familiar emotions – fear, hope, the possibility of closure after so many years.

Beyond the walls are cruelty and deceit, lies and pain, ageing and death.  As long as we are strong we can resist these things, but if we let our guard down, all manner of pestilence will enter.

The cruelty of this world casts a spell on the innocents, and together we will punish those who do not know the beauty that lies beneath their nostrils, and who don’t deserve the blessings that have been bestowed upon them. I will revoke those blessings and bring them to a place where they belong –  beside me in paradise.

My dreams are restless, the past rising up to haunt me or delight me by turn. The dark dreams take me back to that place, that hole I was in, the pit of despair. I left that place behind, never to return, but even though my conscious will refuses to go back there, at night it returns to remind me of whence I came. I will not go back …

Why are you smiling? - Horatio to Calliegh

So sad "Criminal Minds: Suspect Behavior" the series ended open and it was made in 2011 and it ended in 2011!

Did not go well at mall. Passerby said, “how’s the screenplay goin’, Steve?” Worried about tomorrow’s performance on CSI… and Emmy.

Rehearsing at home for tomorrow’s CSI cameo, “face down dead body without a chalk outline.” Maid screams. Wife calls lawyer, then 911.

Have you heard of this thing called the Internet?” CSI yells into the echoing abyss.

Mr. Berkowitz clicks open his black American Tourister rolling suitcase. Inside, his tools: a microscope, an old canister with the faded label “vegetable flakes,” and various instruments that look like my mother’s sewing kit after a genetic mutation. He spreads them out on my living room table. Mr. Berkowitz reminds me of an Orthodox CSI. God’s wardrobe detective. He

trading CSI remains for two chunks of what-the-fuck wrapped in oversized leaves.

That’s not Dante?’ Reuben grinned. ‘John F. Kennedy, actually. In the Inferno, Dante and Virgil pass by a group of dead souls outside the entrance to Hell. These individuals, when alive, remained neutral at a time of great moral decision. Virgil explains that these neutrals cannot enter either Heaven or Hell because they could not choose one side or another while on earth. They are therefore worse than the greatest sinners in Hell because they are abhorrent to both God and Satan alike, and have been left to mourn their fate as insignificant beings, neither hailed nor cursed in life or death, endlessly travailing below Heaven but outside of Hell.

The hottest places in Hell are reserved for those who, in time of great moral crisis, maintain their neutrality.

last night you had a visitor; the promise of a brand new chapter left her fingerprints all over your awareness for you to CSI and hack the code of hope.

I hope you don’t ever have the CSI people come over and inspect the place.” The comment was so out of left field, Gumby could only think to ask, “Why?” “Because if they use that luminal stuff, this place is gonna light up like a Christmas tree.

The archive was an incredible repository of information, but given the university’s limited budget for archival material and research, the collection remained uncatalogued and untouched for more than fifty years.

I find that people who don’t respect books have a general disregard for keeping things whole.

I think a head injury from a suicidal squirrel would be a really embarrassing way to die, but it would at least give the CSI team a really good mystery because there weren't even any trees above me.