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Quote by Jeff Lindsay

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Darkly Dreaming Dexter

Darkly Dreaming Dexter is a novel that delves into the psyche of Dexter Morgan, a seemingly normal blood spatter analyst who secretly embarks on a quest to kill criminals who have escaped justice. The narrative is told from Dexter's perspective, offering readers a glimpse into his internal monologue and his intricate moral code. The story explores themes of identity, morality, and the nature of evil, as Dexter grapples with his dark passenger, a voice that drives him to commit acts of vigilante justice. The novel is known for its unique blend of dark humor and psychological depth, making it a compelling read for fans of the genre. more

Author

Jeff Lindsay
Jeff Lindsay

Jeff Lindsay, born on July 14, 1952, is a renowned playwright known for his profound character development and unique narrative style. His works have won numerous awards and have had a significant impact on the contemporary theater. more

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“Here, her hand in mine was the one reality that severed us from the cold click-clack of Hell. I rubbed her hand and she sighed; wasn’t that meaning? Wasn’t that something we could cling to? I could be with this other. I could form no other relation, but maybe her hand in mine was enough, both sufficient and necessary. In Hell there was no sense of place, because all places were the same. Uniform monotony. A place without place. A place without context. But, here, now, I could rub her hand and she would sigh. She was a difference. Perhaps each person was the only difference in all these halls of unchanging ranks of books, kiosks, clocks, and carpet, and that, and that, at least, we had to hold to.”

“Had I realized while on Earth," he said, "that Hell was such a delightful place, I should have put more faith in the teachings of religion. As it was, I actually doubted its existence. A foolish error, cherie. I am pleased to say that you have converted me completely." "I, too," observed Mr. Hamilton, helping himself to wine, "was something of an unbeliever in my time, and while never quite an atheist, like my arch-enemy Jefferson, I was still inclined to look upon Satan as merely a myth. Imagine my satisfaction to find him ruling a monarchy! You know I spent the greater part of my earthly existence fighting Mr. Jefferson and his absurd democratic ideas and now look at the damn country! Run by morons!”

“It must not be thought, however, that in pagan Ireland Fairyland was altogether conceived as a Hades or place of the dead. We have already seen that in some of its types and aspects it was inherently nothing of the sort; as when, for example, it came to be confused with the Land of the Gods. In all likelihood these separate paradises and deadlands of a nature so various were the result of the stratified beliefs of successive races dwelling in the same region. A conquering race would scarcely credit that its heroes would, after death, betake themselves to the deadland of the beaten and enslaved aborigines. The gods of vanquished races might be conceived as presiding over spheres of the dead for which their victors would have nothing but contempt, and which, because of that very contempt, might come to be conceived as hells or places of a debased and grovelling kind, pestiferous regions which only the spirits of despised "natives" or the undesirable might inhabit.”