Then I discovered that being related is no guarantee of love!

You walk around feeling like a teenager and immortal your whole life, and suddenly there isn't much time left.

Era uimită că mai trăia. Constată că se simțea ciudat de indiferentă și că, de fapt, nu-i păsa. Dacă moartea era vidul negru din care tocmai se trezise, atunci nu era ceva pentru care să se neliniștească. Nu va remarca niciodată diferența.

I've read crime fiction all my life. A thing that's bothered me about crime fiction is that it's generally about one or two people, but there's not much about society. I want to get away from that particular pattern: a lead, a supporting role and backdrop characters.

What she had realized was that love was that moment when your heart was about to burst.

Then she sat as if paralyzed, thinking. She had never in her life felt such a longing. She wanted Mikael Blomkvist to ring the doorbell and ... what then? Lift her off the ground, hold her in his arms? Passionately take her to the bedroom and tear off her clothes? No, she really just wanted his company. She wanted to hear him say that he liked her for who she was. That she was someone special in his world and in his life. She wanted him to give her some gesture of love, not just of friendship and companionship.