I was tired of seeing the Graces always depicted as beautiful young things. I think wisdom comes with age and life and pain. And knowing what matters.
…and all the other tools that mistook information for knowledge
Let every man shovel out his own snow, and the whole city will be passable,” said Gamache. Seeing Beauvoir’s puzzled expression he added, “Emerson.””Lake and Palmer?””Ralph and Waldo.
Myrna could spend happy hours browsing bookcases. She felt if she could just get a good look at a person’s bookcase and their grocery cart, she’d pretty much know who they were.
Why did he kill his own mother?’ Ruth asked.‘The oldest story in the book,’ said Gamache.‘Ben was a male prostitute?’ Gabri exclaimed.‘That’s the oldest profession. Where do you keep your head?’ asked Ruth. ‘Never mind, don’t answer that.
When someone stabs you it’s not your fault that you feel pain.
He had his treasure, but finally all he wanted was his family. And peace.
Where there is love there is courage,where there is courage there is peace,where there is peace there is God.And when you have God, you have everything.
Joy doesn’t ever leave, you know. It’s always with you. And one day you’ll find it again.
Now here’s a good one:you’re lying on your deathbed.You have one hour to live.Who is it, exactly, you have neededall these years to forgive?
…struck. Once. And into that blow he put his childhood, his grief, his loss. He put his mother’s sorrow and his sister’s longing. The menorah, weighed down with that, crushed the Hermit’s skull.
Loss was like that, Gamache knew. You didn’t just lose a loved one. You lost your heart, your memories, your laughter, your brain and it even took your bones. Eventually it all came back, but different. Rearranged
That was the danger. Not that betrayals happened, not that cruel things happened, but that they could outweigh all the good. That we could forget the good and only remember the bad.
That was why she was happy. He now knew that happiness ad kindness went together. There was not one without the other. For Jean-Guy it was a struggle. For Annie it seemed natural.
I’ve been treating you with courtesy and respect because that’s the way I choose to treat everyone. But never, ever mistake kindness with weakness.
…in the library…surrounded by things far more dangerous than what roamed the school corridors. For here thoughts were housed.
Not everything buried is actually dead. For many, the past is alive.
They spoke in semaphore, all punctuation unnecessary.“You?”“Great.”They’d trimmed the language to its essentials. Before long it would just be consonants. Then silence.
She’d forgotten to love, but she also forgot to hate. (about Clara’s mother, who had dementia)
Maybe this was now normal for Olivier. Maybe every now and then he simply wept. Not in pain or sadness. The tears were just overwhelming memories, rendered into water, seeping out.
Don’t be so sure,” said Gamache. “It’s a little humbling to realize the pedestal isn’t quite so high after all.”Brebeuf chuckled. “Welcome to earth, Armand. It’s a little dirty down here.
They stared ahead. Silent. Morin had never realized murderers were caught in silence. But they were.
But we don’t have to react. That’s what I’m saying. A police force, like a government, should be above that. Just because we’re provoked doesn’t mean we have to act. — Still Life
The fault lies with us, and only us. It’s not fate, not genetics, not bad luck, and it’s definitely not Mom and Dad. Ultimately it’s us and our choices…but the most powerful spectacular thing is that the solution rests with us as well.
I often think we should have tattooed on the back of whatever hand we use to shoot or write, ‘I might be wrong.
We’re all blessed and we’re all blighted, Chief Inspector,” said Finney. “Everyday each of us does our sums. The question is, what do we count?
Photos sat on the piano and shelves bulged with books, testament to a life well lived.
They were home. He always felt a bit like a snail, but instead of carrying his home on his back, he carried it in his arms.
She taught me that life goes on, and that I had a choice. To lament what I no longer had or be grateful for what remained.
. .his cell phone didn’t work in Three Pines, and neither did email. He almost expected to see messages fluttering back and forth in the sky above the village, unable to descend.
Life is change. If you aren’t growing and evolving, you’re standing still, and the rest of the world is surging ahead.
Rules meant order. Without them they’d be killing each other. It began with butting in, with parking in disabled spaces, with smoking in elevators. And it ended in murder.
A murder was never about brawn, it began and ended in the brain and the brain could justify anything.
…believing sarcasm and rude remarks kept the monsters at bay. They didn’t.
You weren’t lost. You were exploring. There’s a difference.
Conscience. Imagine being pursued by your own conscience….A mountain of conscience. Throwing a lengthening shadow. Growing. Darkening.
Shakespeare: …the best way to peace is to have a still and quiet conscience. Or none at all, thought Gamache.
Do you know the sums that I do?” “I count my blessings.
In winter the very ground seemed to reach up and grab the elderly, yanking them to earth as though hungry for them.
…while men and women perished, and cities fell, symbols endured, grew. Symbols were immortal.
There are generally three parties to child abuse: the abused, the abuser and the bystander.
Do you know why we’re all happy here, monsieur? Because it’s the last house on the road.