Thursday Murders Club Quotes

In life you have to learn to count the good days. You have to tuck them in your pocket and carry them around with you. So I’m putting today in my pocket and I’m off to bed.

After a certain age, you can pretty much do whatever takes your fancy. No one tells you off, except for your doctors and your children.

You can have too much choice in this world. And when everyone has too much choice, it is also much harder to get chosen. And we all want to be chosen.

You always know when it’s your first time, don’t you? But you rarely know when it’s your final time.

It was a well-known fact that there were no calories in homemade cakes.

People without a sense of humor will never forgive you for being funny.

It’s great to be the fastest runner, but not when you’re running in the wrong direction.

Many years ago, everybody here would wake early because there was much to do and only so many hours in the day. Now they wake early because there is much to do and only so many days left.

More women are murdering people these days,” says Joyce. “If you ignore the context, it is a real sign of progress.

And if one is never lost in life, then clearly one has never traveled anywhere interesting.

...There are silly, proper tears now. I'll let them fall. If you don't cry sometimes, you'll end up crying all the time.

If you fail to prepare, you prepare to fail.

Some people love their children more than they love their partner,’ says Ibrahim, ‘and some people love their partner more than their children. And no one can ever admit to either thing.

If murder were easy, none of us would survive Christmas.

We all have a sob story, but we don't all go around killing people.

But, however much life teaches you that nothing lasts, it is still a shock when it disappears. When the man you love with every fibre starts returning to the stars, an atom at a time.

Everyone wants to feel special, but nobody wants to feel different,

He’s all the things that can go wrong with men if you leave them to their own devices.

Why diet at eighty-two?” says Joyce. “What’s a sausage roll going to do to you? Kill you? Well, join the queue.

Donna has always been headstrong, always acted quickly and decisively. Which is a fine quality when you are right, but a liability when you are wrong. It’s great to be the fastest runner, but not when you’re running in the wrong direction.

Always look where the action isn't, because that's where the action is.

People love to sleep, and yet they are so frightened of death.

Don’t get a small dog though, Joyce,’ says Ron. ‘Small dogs are like small men: always got a point to prove. Yapping it up, barking at cars.

because you know that getting out of a garden chair at our age is a military operation. Once you are in one, you can be in it for the day.

Well, imagine if we only ever did what we were supposed to,

The sun is up, the skies are blue, and murder is in the air

There are scars, yes, but that at least means the bleeding has stopped.

Revenge is not a straight line, it’s a circle. It’s a grenade that goes off while you’re still in the room, and you can’t help but be caught in the blast.

You are simply a little lost, Donna. And if one is never lost in life, then clearly one has never traveled anywhere interesting.

I'm afraid I don't know WTF. I only discovered LOL from Joyce last week

I know the difference between alone and lonely,

Everyone who dies is alive. We call people "dead" because we need a word for it, but "dead" just means that time has stopped moving forward for that person? You understand? No one dies, not really.

I know from experience that grief rides alone.

God cries every time someone lies to a Canadian.

Was he a content man, doing the things he liked alone? Or was he a lonely man making the best out of what he had? Alone, or lonely?

What is it about Christmas? Everything that’s wrong seems worse, and everything that’s right seems better.

We think time travels forward, marches on in a straight line, and so we alongside it to keep up. Hurry, hurry, mustn't fall behind. But it doesn't, you see. Time just swirls around us. Every thing is always present. The things we've done, the people we've loved, the people we've hurt, they're all still here?

Thank you so much for reading The Thursday Mystery Club. Unless you haven’t read it yet and have just turned straight to the acknowledgments, which I accept is a possibility. You must live your life as you choose.

You must die before your children, of course, because you have taught them to live without you. But not your dog.

If life ever seems too complicated, if you think no one can help, sometimes the right person to turn to is an eight-year-old.

If you don’t cry sometimes, you’ll end up crying all the time.

Very few things are so important you would risk your life for them, but all sorts of things are important enough to risk somebody else’s life.

You got to be careful with money. Don't let it be in charge.

I don’t know why we’re on this earth,” says Stephen. “Truly I don’t. But if I wanted to find the answer, I would begin with how much I love you.

At least I have discovered that online dating is not for me. You can have too much choice in this world. And when everyone has too much choice, it is also much harder to get chosen. And we all want to be chosen.

It was the perfect trip, and as far as Stephen was concerned, the whole weekend was one magical accident. And that's because he is the weather, and I am the weather forecaster. He believes in fate, while I am fate.

It was a community, and in Ibrahim's opinion that was how human beings were designed to live. At Coopers Chase, anytime you wanted to be alone, you would simply close your front door, and anytime you wanted to be with people, you would open it up again. If there was a better recipe for happiness than that, then Ibrahim was yet to hear it.

I have been Googling, but there’s not much out there. I got so desperate I even used Bing,

I would never have therapy, because who wants to unravel all that knitting? Not wroth the risk, thank you. My daughter, Joanna, has a therapist, although you'd be hard-pressed to know why if you saw the size of her house.

It’s the people, in the end, isn’t it?” says Viktor. “It’s always the people. You can move halfway around the world to find your perfect life, move to Australia if you like, but it always comes down to the people you meet.

Day after day, mission after mission, ridding the world of evil? Waiting for the last devil to die? What a joke. New devils will always spring up, like daffodils in springtime.

We complain about life so endlessly and so bitterly, and yet we cling to it so dearly? Surely that makes no sense?

You know when you look into someone's eyes for the first time and the whole world breaks apart And you just think, "Of course, of course, this is what I've been waiting for all this time"?

People drift in and out of your life, and, when you are younger, you know you will see them again. But now every old friend is a miracle.

At one point he brushed my hand and there was electricity, but I think that was the combination of the deep carpet outside the restaurant and my new cardigan.

Days of death are days when we weigh our relationship with love in our bare hands. Days when we remember what has gone, and fear what is to come. The joy love brings, and the price we pay. When we give thanks but also pray for mercy.

Life is about understanding opportunities. Understanding how rarely they come along, and then rising to meet them when they do.

It was best to grab everything while you could. Who knows when your final swim might come, your final walk, your final kiss?

You always know when it’s your first time, don’t you? But you rarely know when it’s your final time.

Of all the things to lose, to lose one's mind? Let them take a leg or a lung; let them take anything before they take that. Before you become "poor Rosemary" or "poor Frank," catching the last glimpses of the sun and seeing them for what they were. Before there were no more trips, no more games, no more Murder Clubs. Before there was no more you.

I'm afraid I don't know WTF. I only discovered LOL from Joyce last week. I'm going to assume that it doesn't refer to the Warsaw Transit Facility, as that was shut down in 1981 when the Russians came sniffing.

No animal is better than any other animal. We are all just a collection of atoms smashed together. Even people. Even trees.

No kneeling for him these days, though, arthritis and Catholicism being an uneasy mix.

Patrice has fallen in love before, and this is beginning to show all the signs. That might just be the wine and the Jane Austen, though.

Love always finds a language.

Save your good luck for big things, and your bad luck for small things.

Our memories are no less real than whatever moment in which we happen to be living.

What if pretending to enjoy life is the same as actually enjoying it? He has been smiling from the moment Patrice arrived, so perhaps there was something in it.

We are all gone in the blink of an eye, and there is nothing to do but live while you’re waiting.

Night-time is for questions without answers,

I’m involved about as much as I want to be with the Thursday Murder Club. If they can plant cocaine in someone’s cistern, I don’t want to think about what they’d do with my love life.

So what do I do now?” “You climb the next mountain, of course.” “Oh, yeah, of course,” says Donna. Simple. “And what’s up the next mountain?” “Well, we don’t know, do we? It’s your mountain. No one’s ever climbed it before.” “And what if I don’t want to? What if I just want to go home and cry every night and pretend to everyone that everything’s okay?” “Then do that. Keep being scared, keep being lonely. And spend the next twenty years coming to see me, and I will keep telling you the same thing. Put your boots on and climb the next mountain. See what’s up there. Friends, promotions, babies. It’s your mountain.” “Will there be other mountains after that one?” “There will.

She had used all the tricks in the book to encourage him, to convince him, to cajole him into looking after himself. But it turned out that, all along, the only real motivation he needed to change was to start having sex with her mum. You have to be so careful what you wish for.

Mankind finds futility very hard to stomach. People find all sorts of things to give their brief lives meaning. Religion, football, astrology, social media. Valiant efforts all, but everyone knows, deep, deep down, that life is both a random occurrence and a losing battle. None of us will be remembered. These days will all be covered, in time, by the sands.

It is fine to say ‘what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.’ It is admirable. But it no longer applies when you’re eighty. When you are eighty, whatever doesn’t kill you just ushers you through the next door, and the next door and the next, and all of these doors lock behind you.

The real secret was that when they looked at each other, they each thought they had the better deal. But, however much life teaches you that nothing lasts, it is still a shock when it disappears. When the man you love with every fiber starts returning to the stars, an atom at a time.

They say that time softens the pain, but that’s a fairy tale. Who would ever love again if anyone actually told the truth? I’m afraid there are some days when I could still rip out my own heart and weep myself hollow for Gerry. Some days? Every day.

And, by the by, Joanna solved the mystery of my private messages. She went into my account and searched all of them for me. She told me that if I didn't want to be sent an endless tide of photographs of men's genitals, I should really change my username. Needless to say, I haven't changed it.

One by one, the lights of the village switch off. The only remaining illumination comes from behind the thick hospital blinds of Willows. The business of dying keeps different hours than the business of living.

Pearson Street is just what you want a shopping street to be—busy, friendly, local, and happy. Joyce thinks it’s so perfect that it’s surely only six months away from having a Starbucks and losing what it now has.

So every day Elizabeth opens her diary to a date two weeks ahead and writes herself a question. And every day she answers a question she set herself two weeks ago. This is her early-warning system. This is her team of scientists poring over seismology graphs. If there is going to be an earthquake, Elizabeth will be the first to know about it.

Does it hurt?" asks Ibrahim. "Only when I breathe," says Donna.

Ever so ambitious, but they only use 'ambitious' as a criticism about women, don't they?

Every true soul is unknowable,

There is another dating app for gay men called Grindr. Perhaps it’s for gay women too? I don’t know, I didn’t ask. Would they use the same one? That would be nice.

I volunteer because it makes me look helpful, and it gives me first dibs on the refreshments.

Whatever they say about time healing, some things in life just break and can never be fixed.

I fear I might be barking up the wrong tree with this one. I just hope I can bark up the right tree one of these days. Before I run out of trees. Or before I stop barking altogether.

Had she really understood then that those were the best of times? That she was in heaven? She thinks she did understand, yes. Understood she had been given a great gift. Doing the crossword in a train carriage, Stephen with a can of beer ("I will only drink beer on trains, nowhere else, don't ask me why"), glasses halfway down his nose, reading out clues. The real secret was that when they looked at each other, they each thought they had the better deal.

I’m sure,” says Elizabeth. “If murder were easy, none of us would survive Christmas.

Because things are more fun for you when they’re not planned, and they were more fun for him when they were planned. It’s best to have one of each in every relationship.

I don't think you're supposed to use your mobile telephone in here, Elizabeth," says John. She gives a kindly shrug. "Well, imagine if we only ever did what we were supposed to, John." "You have a point there, Elizabeth," agrees John, and goes back to his book.

That twinkle in his eye was undimmed. The twinkle that gave an entirely undeserved suggestion of wisdom and charm. The twinkle that could make you walk down the aisle with a man almost ten years your junior and regret it within months. The twinkle you soon realize is actually the beam of a lighthouse, warning you off the rocks.

Quite so,” agrees Stephen, his voice quiet. “Nail hit well and truly on the head there, old girl. We think time travels forward, marches on in a straight line, and so we hurry alongside it to keep up. Hurry, hurry, mustn’t fall behind. But it doesn’t, you see. Time just swirls around us. Everything is always present. The things we’ve done, the people we’ve loved, the people we’ve hurt, they’re all still here.

I am not a vegan and have no intention of ever becoming one, but I still feel like it's something that should be encouraged. I read that if mankind doesn't stop eating meat, there will be mass starvation by 2050. With respect, I am nearly eighty, and so this won't be my problem, but I do hope they sort it out.

I see,” says Elizabeth, lips pursing. “And what happens if I still choose to say WPC? Will there be a warrant for my arrest?” “No, but I’ll think a bit less of you,” says Donna. “Because it’s a really simple thing to do, and it’s more respectful to me.” “Damn, checkmate, okay,” says Elizabeth, unpursing her lips. “Thank you,” says Donna.

I’d outlive a dog through pure spite,’ says Ron. ‘We’d just sit in opposite corners of the room, staring each other out, and see who went first. Not me. It’s like when we were negotiating with British Leyland in ’seventy-eight. The moment one of their lot went to the loo first, I knew we had ’em.’ Ron knocks back more wine. ‘Never go to the loo first. Tie a knot in it if you have to.

That’s the thing about Coopers Chase. You’d imagine it was quiet and sedate, like a village pond on a summer’s day. But in truth it never stops moving, it’s always in motion. And that motion is ageing, and death, and love, and grief, and final snatched moments and opportunities grasped. The urgency of old age. There’s nothing that makes you feel more alive than the certainty of death.

Everything is about death, you see.’ ‘Well, recently, yes,’ agrees Joyce. ‘But surely not everything? That seems a bit much?’ ‘In essence,’ says Ibrahim. ‘Our existence only makes sense because of it; it provides meaning to our narrative. Our direction of travel is always towards it. Our behaviour is either because we fear it, or because we choose to deny it. We could drive past this spot once a year, every year, and neither the horse nor ourselves would get younger. Everything is death.

Dear Stephen,’ he begins. ‘This is a difficult letter to write, but I know it will be a great deal more difficult to read. I will come straight to it. I believe you are in the early stages of dementia, possibly Alzheimer’s.’ Elizabeth can hear her heart beating through her chest. Who on earth has chosen to shatter their privacy this way? Who even knows? Her friends? Has one of them written? They wouldn’t dare, not without asking. Not Ibrahim, surely? He might dare. ‘I am not an expert, but it is something I have been looking into. You are forgetting things, and you are getting confused. I know full well what you will say – “But I’ve always forgotten things. I’ve always been confused!” – and you are right, of course, but this, Stephen, is of a different order. Something is not right with you, and everything I read points in just one direction.’ ‘Stephen,’ says Elizabeth, but he gently gestures for hush. ‘You must also know that dementia points in just one direction. Once you start to descend the slope, and please believe me when I say you have started, there is no return. There may be footholds here and there, there may be ledges on which to rest, and the view may still be beautiful from time to time, but you will not clamber back up.’ ‘Stephen, who wrote you this letter?’ Elizabeth asks. Stephen holds up a finger, asking her to be patient a few moments more. Elizabeth’s fury is decreasing. The letter is something she should have written to him herself. This should not have been left to a stranger. Stephen starts