“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.”

“There are a lot of them, all around the wsorld, all built a lifetime ago, during the long and spectacular blaze of American military power and self-confidence, when there was nothing we couldn't or wouldn't do. I was a product of that era, but not a part of it. I was nostalgic for something I had never experienced.”

“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?”

“I said nothing. I’m good at saying nothing. I don’t like talking. I could go the rest of my life without saying another word, if I had to.”

“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.”

“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.”

“Evaluate. Long experience had taught me to evaluate and assess. When the unexpected gets dumped on you, don’t waste time. Don’t figure out how or why it happened. Don’t recriminate. Don’t figure out whose fault it is. Don’t work out how to avoid the same mistake next time. All of that you do later. If you survive.”