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Jeff Lindsay

Jeff Lindsay Books

Playwright

Dexter Is Dead

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“Perhaps it was only that I did not feel any crazier than I had ever felt. I did not notice any missing gray tissue, I did not seem to be thinking any slower or more strangely, and so far I’d had no conversations with invisible buddies that I was aware of. Except in my sleep, of course-and did that really count? Weren’t we all crazy in our sleep? What was sleep, after all, but the process by which we dumped our insanity into a dark subconscious pit and came out on the other side ready to eat cereal instead of the neighbor’s children?”

MindSleepCrazyMadnessInsanitySubconsciousPsyche
Book:Darkly Dreaming Dexter
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“It’s an odd term, 'girlfriend,' particularly for grown persons. And in practice it provides an even odder concept. Generally speaking, in adults it described a woman, not a girl, who was willing to provide sex, not friendship. In fact, from what I had observed it was quite possible for one to actively dislike one’s girlfriend, although of course true hatred is reserved for marriage.”

PersonsFactsGirlCoursesSexTermPracticeWillingConceptsAdultsHatredOddGirlfriendDislikeReservedNot Friends
Book:Dearly Devoted Dexter
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“A reasonable being might think that he and I could find some common ground; have a cup of coffee and compare our Passengers, exchange trade talk and chitchat about dismemberment techniques. But no: Doakes wanted me dead. And I found it difficult to share his point of view.”

ThinkingMightWantedFoundDifficultViewsCommonShareTradePoint Of ViewTechniqueCoffeeCupsCompareReasonablePassengersCoffee CupCommon Ground
Book:Dearly Devoted Dexter
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“IN MY LIFELONG STUDY OF HUMAN BEINGS, I HAVE FOUND that no matter how hard they might try, they have found no way yet to prevent the arrival of Monday morning. And they do try, of course, but Monday always comes, and all the drones have to scuttle back to their dreary workaday lives of meaningless toil and suffering.”

WayTryingHumansLongMatterHardSufferingCoursesFoundHuman BeingsMorningStudyMeaninglessMondayLong LifeArrivalsDrearyDronesMonday Morning
Author:Jeff Lindsay
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“It was always hard work to push through a crowed of reporters with the scent of blood in their nostrils. You might not think so, since on camera they appear to be brain-damaged wimps with severe eating disorders. But put them at a police barricade and a miraculous thing happens...The strength comes from some mysterious place-and somehow, when there is gore on the ground, these anorexic creatures can push their way through anything. Without mussing their hair, too.”

ThinkingWayHardMightHappensBrainBloodHard WorkHairCreaturesEatingPoliceCamerasThings HappenMysteriousDisorderReportersScentSevereMiraculousGoreEating DisorderAnorexicsBarricadesWimps
Author:Jeff Lindsay
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“I rose to my knees, mouth dry and heart pounding, and paused to finger a rip in my beautiful Dacron bowling shirt. I pushed my fingertip through the hole and wiggled it at myself. Hello, Dexter, where are you going? Hello, Mr. Finger. I don't know, but I'm almost there. I hear my friends calling.”

KnowsHeartBeautifulCallingMouthsMy FriendsRoseFingersHolesKneesShirtsDryHelloRipFingertipsBowlingHeart PoundingAlmost There
Book:Darkly Dreaming Dexter
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“I am not shy about admitting my modest talents. For example, I am happy to admit that I am better than average at clever remarks, and I also have a flair for getting people to like me. But to be perfectly fair to myself, I am ever-ready to confess my shortcomings, too, and a quick round of soul-searching forced me to admit that I had never been any good at all at breathing water. As I hung there from the seat belt, dazed and watching the water pour in and swirl around my head, this began to seem like a very large character flaw.”

PeopleSoulCharacterSeemsWaterTalentExampleReadySmartFairsRoundsAverageCleverLike MeBreathingSeatsShyFlawsHungModestBeltsRemarksSoul SearchingShortcomingsAdmittingFlairSwirlsDazedSeat BeltsCharacter Flaws
Author:Jeff Lindsay
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“It's that moon again, slung so fat and low in the tropical night, calling out across a curdled sky and into the quivering ears of that dear old voice in the shadows, the Dark Passenger, nestled snug in the backseat of the Dodge K-car of Dexter's hypothetical soul. That rascal moon, that loudmouthed leering Lucifer, calling down across the empty sky to the dark hearts of the night monsters below, calling them away to their joyful playgrounds.”

HeartSoulNightVoiceDarkSkyCarCallingMoonLowsShadowEmptyEarsDearMonstersFatsJoyfulPassengersPlaygroundsLuciferTropicalDodgeHypotheticalRascalsBackseat
Book:Dearly Devoted Dexter
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