“I had a teacher once, grade school somewhere. Philippines, I think, because she always wore a big white hat. So it was somewhere hot. I was always twice the size of the other kids, and she used to say to me: count to ten before you get mad, Reacher. And I've counted way past ten on this one. Way past.”

“Thurman asked, “Are you born again?”Reacher said, “Once was enough for me.”“I’m serious.”“So am I.”“You should think about it.”“My father used to say, ‘Why be born again when you can just grow up?’”“Is he no longer with us?”“He died a long time ago.”“He’s in the other place then, with an attitude like that.”“He’s in a hole in the ground in Arlington Cemetery.”“Another veteran?”“Marine.”“Thank you for his service.”“Don’t thank me, I had nothing to do with it.”Thurman said, “You should think about getting your life in order, you know, before it’s too late. Something might happen. The Book of Revelations says ‘The time is at hand.’”“As it has every day since it was written nearly 2000 years ago. Why would it be true now, when it wasn’t before?”“There are signs,” Thurman said, “And the possibility of precipitating events.”He said it primly and smugly, and with a degree of certainty, as if he had regular access to privilieged, insider information. Reacher said nothing in reply.They drove on past a small group of tired men, wrestling with a mountain of tangled steel. Their backs were bent and their shoulders were slumped. Not yet 8 o’clock in the morning, Reacher thought. More than 10 hours still to go.“God watches over them.”“You sure?”“He tells me so.”“Does he watch over you, too?”“He knows what I do.”“Does he approve?”“He tells me so.”“Then why is there a lightning rod on your church?”

“People, Reacher was certain about. Dogs were different. People had freedom of choice. If a man or a woman ran snarling toward him, they did so because they chose to. They were asking for whatever they got. His response was their problem. But dogs were different. No free will. Easily misled. It raised an ethical problem. Shooting a dog because it had been induced to do something unwise was not the sort of thing Reacher wanted to do.”

“I was in the machine. My whole life. Then the machine coughed and spat me out. So I thought, OK, if I'm out, I'm out. All the way out. I was a little angry and it was probably an immature reaction. But I got used to it.”

“I don't care about the little guy. I just hate the big guy. I hate big smug people who think they can get away with things.”

“I have to warn you. I promised my mother, a long time ago. She said I had to give folks a chance to walk away.”

“Reacher said Nothing”