Lorrie Moore Quotes

I don't know if I could kill someone with a frozen turkey because that is a lot of evidence to eat .... unless I found a whole room of people who also wanted that person dead.

My one wish before I die is to talk to Bremer. I want to find out who he did it for. He did it for somebody else.

People often ask me what happened to my first husband? And I say, I killed him.

Who shot him? I asked. The grey man scratched the back of his neck and said: Somebody with a gun.

A detective sees death in all the various forms at least five times a week.

I believe the question now is: who murdered my mother?

For years I've wanted to write a book about mummies, and had been following the science of mummy CT scans when the premise for 'The Keepsake' occurred to me: what if an 'ancient' mummy turns out to have a bullet in its leg? How does a modern murder victim get turned into a mummy?

While 'Visitation Street' has the markings of a traditional whodunnit mystery - starting with a missing girl, intrigue and many suspicious characters - Pochoda shows her hand early on by fingering a culprit. The book turns, then, into a 'whydunnit.'

I always look for good stories and good characters, and if they're placed in a whodunit, then I'm interested.

I'm not sure whay I've been drawn to this subject, except that murder is a subject that has always drawn people for as long as people have been telling stories.

I know that Oswald killed Kennedy. Now, was he pushed? Encouraged to do it by outsiders? Possibly. Possibly. Was he sitting down with Fidel Castro? No.

Well, I think storytellers have always found murder a fascinating device.

I read a lot about serial killers.

Oh, Mrs. Churchill, do come over, someone has killed father.

Lost assassination

Now, they will have to find the assassin quickly, but very quickly, otherwise, you watch and see, I know them, they will try to put the blame on us for this thing.

The great thing about detective stories, in particular, the case can always be interesting as well as the characters.

I've always loved cemeteries since I was a kid. They're very calm.

I developed 'Trapped' because I was fascinated with the idea of a terrible crime in a small town cut off from the rest of the world.

If I'm not a murderer," asked Corny, "how come I keep killing people?

A young woman is dead. I don’t care. You probably don’t care. The police don’t care. The papers don’t care. The punks for the most part don’t care. The only people that care are (I suppose) her parents and (I’m almost certain) the boy accused of murdering her.

There are, fortunately, very few people who can say that they have actually attended a murder.

There are bodies buried everywhere you just have to know where to look.

On a cold, fretful afternoon in early October, 1872, a hansom cab drew up outside the offices of Lockhart and Selby, Shipping Agents, in the financial heart of London, and a young girl got out and paid the driver. She was a person of sixteen or so--alone, and uncommonly pretty. She was slender and pale, and dressed in mourning, with a black bonnet under which she tucked back a straying twist of blond hair that the wind had teased loose. She had unusually dark brown eyes for one so fair. Her name was Sally Lockhart; and within fifteen minutes, she was going to kill a man.

One of us in this very room is in fact the murderer.