“Hey, you fucking creep, in this shithole! I've got a monopoly on that one.”

“I've never had a boy in here," Martin said in a serious voice. "I've never touched another man, as a matter of fact. . . .except for my father. That was my duty."Blomkvist's temples were pounding. He could not put his weight on his feet without being strangled. He tried to use his fingers to get a grip on the concrete wall behind him, but there was nothing to hold onto."It's time," Martin Vanger said.He put a hand on the strap and pulled down. Blomkvist instantly felt the noose cut into his neck."I've always wondered how a man tastes." He increased the pressure on the noose and leaned forward to kiss Blomkvist on the lips at the same time that a cold voice cut through the room."Hey you fucking creep, in this shithole I've got a monopoly on that one.”

“Take it all off. I don't intend to fuck somebody in his underwear. And you have to use a condom. I know where I've been, but I don't know where you've been. - Lisbeth Salander”

“I’m not arguing. I just think that it’s pathetic that creeps always have to have someone else to blame.”

“I mean, I may not hold the record in cleaning house either, but if I've got old milk cartons that smell like maggots I bundle them up and put them out.""I'm on a disability pension'" he said. "I'm socially incompetent.”

“Kalle Fucking Blomkvist”

“Salander in love. What a fucking joke.”