“I need to look like an idiot at least twice a day to keep myself humble.”

“I need mood music. I gotta get myself ready to kick butt."Lula - High Five”

“I failed math twice, never fully grasping probability theory. I mean, first off, who cares if you pick a black ball or a white ball out of the bag? And second, if you’re bent over about the color, don’t leave it to chance. Look in the damn bag and pick the color you want.”

“Stephanie, I'm begging you. Eat some doughnuts. I can't keep going like this." - Morelli”

“Cripes, I can’t keep up on this political correct shit. I don’t even know what to call myself. One minute I’m black. Then I’m African American. Then I’m a person of color. Who the hell makes these rules up, anyhow?”

“Mrs. Zuppa was coming in from bingo just as I was leaving the building. "Looks like you're going to work," she said, leaning heavily on her cane. "What are you packin'?" "A thirty-eight.""I like a nine-millimeter myself." "A nine's good." "Easier to use a semiautomatic after you've had hip replacement and you walk with a cane," she said. One of those useful pieces of information to file away and resurrect when I turn eighty-three.”

“He reached out, opened the glove compartment, and took out a gun. It was a Smith & Wesson .38 five-shot special. It looked a lot like my gun."I stopped by your apartment this morning and picked this up for you," Ranger said. "I found it in the cookie jar.""Tough guys always keep their gun in the cookie jar.""Name one.""Rockford."Ranger grinned. "I stand corrected.”