Lincoln Rhyme: Whatever happened to your father doesn't mean it's gonna happen to you. You're a great cop. You'd make a terrific detective. It's a gift. Don't throw it away.
Amelia: Thelma told me about your plans for your "final transition."
Lincoln Rhyme: Cop to cop, that subject's not open to discussion. Why?.. Would you miss me?
Amelia: Well, destiny's what we make it, right?
Lincoln Rhyme: Touche.
Amelia: Now, you seem to have your reasons for checking out. I just... I would have expected more from someone like you.
Lincoln Rhyme: Well, I might surprise you and... live forever.
Amelia: Nothing you could do would surprise me, Rhyme.
Amelia: I can't do this.
Lincoln Rhyme: You can do it. Yes, you can. Yesterday you stopped a train. You can do anything you want when you put your mind to it.
Amelia: Don't work me, Rhyme... Just tell me what to do next.
Lincoln Rhyme: Very slowly... walk the grid... one foot in front of the other. I want you to look around you now. Remember... crime scenes are three-dimensional... floors, walls and ceilings.
Amelia: Excuse me, but the victim was already dead when we arrived.
Captain Howard Cheney: And you, half-assed patrolman working a crime scene... those days are over. I'll take that evidence bag now, thank you.
Amelia: You can take it with a chain of custody voucher, sir.
Captain Howard Cheney: Are you out of your mind? Hmmm? Let's go. You're coming with us.
Amelia: What? Are you arresting me?
Captain Howard Cheney: You just get in the car, and keep your mouth shut to the press.
Lincoln Rhyme: Pull up a chair. I want you to tell me everything you know about the crime scene.
Amelia: Basically, you saw my report.
Lincoln Rhyme: I read your report. I wanna know what you felt. What you feel... in the deepest recesses of your senses.
Amelia: You are in love with the sound of your own voice, aren't you?
Lincoln Rhyme: No, it's your voice I yearn to hear. Pull up a chair. I won't bite you.
Rhyme: Do you know who I am?
Amelia: I read your manual at the academy.
Rhyme: Yeah? What did you think of it?
Amelia: I'm not a book critic, sir.
Lincoln Rhyme: Destiny is what we make it.
Amelia: Smells like manure down here. Ortiz knows his shit.
Rhyme: There are five basic contaminants in a crime scene. I'll skip to the worse one. Other cops.
Paulie: If you were any more wound up you'd be a timex.