Stuart Turton

Why else would a murderer gift me this compass, if not to lead me into the jaws of some greater evil

I cannot confront the person I was by running from the life he built

I suddenly have the sense of taking part in a play in which everybody knows their lines but me

Because eternity is dull

After all, a race is hard to win if you’re afraid of reaching the finish line

The future isn’t a warning my friend—it’s a promise—and it won’t be broken by us. That’s the nature of the trap we’re caught in.”

What kind of mind makes theater of murder

I became the thing I hated and made Annabelle into the thing I loved

The house is silent, all of its occupants dead

Blackheath was the prison, but they were the shackles.
And the keys