Quotes from Louise Penny

Conscience. Imagine being pursued by your own conscience….A mountain of conscience. Throwing a lengthening shadow. Growing. Darkening.

Gamache was the best of them, the smartest and bravest and strongest because he was willing to go into his own head alone, and open all the doors there, and enter all the dark rooms. And make friends with what he found there. And he went into the dark, hidden rooms in the minds of others. The minds of killers. And he faced down whatever monsters came at him. He went to places Beauvoir had never even dreamed existed.

Don't get me wrong, I believe in using your head, but not in spending too much time in there. Fear lives in the head, and courage lives in the heart. The job is to get from one to the other.

At my age I've long since stopped caring what others think.

They had such a profound effect on those who sang and heard them that the ancient chants became known as "the beautiful mystery.

In trying to capture the beautiful mystery, this monk had invented written music. Not yet notes, what he'd written became known as neumes.

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.

Haven't you ever heard of an artist's muse?" the barman asked. "They all seem to either have one or want one. Me, all I want is peace and quiet.

Below that was the thrum of bumblebees climbing in and over and around the peonies. Getting lost. Bumbling around. It looked comical, ridiculous. But then so much did, unless you knew.

Not everyone makes the boat, she thought.

Michael Brebeuf had long hated Armand. But he had loved him even longer.

After more than a thousand years," he continued, "an enemy finally broke through. Not because of superior firepower. Not because the Manchus were better fighters or strategists. They weren't. The Manchus breached the Great Wall and took Beijing because someone opened a gate. From the inside. As simple as that. A general, a traitor, let them in and an empire fell.

There's a theory," said Myrna. "Not sure if it's Buddhist or Taoist or what, that says that there are certain people we meet time and again, in different lifetimes.

No," said Armand. "The outside won't change, but the inside might. We can but hope." "We can do more than that, Chief Inspector, if we choose. Hope on its own is rarely enough.

They're angry. Unstable. And no doubt armed.

There's clarity, the simplicity of living in the moment and knowing what really matters. Kindness. Company. Gentle care." Acknowledgments · Page 387 · Location 7020

That's why I made the muffins from rose water, as a homage to Jane. Then I ate them, as you saw. I always eat my pain.' Gabri smiled slightly. Looking at the size of the man, Gamache marveled at the amount of pain he must have.

This was the worst story yet. The phantom life that might have been.

Everything makes sense. Everything. We just don't know how yet.

What're you going to focus on? What's unfair, or all the wonderful things that happen? Both are true, both are real. Both need to be accepted. But which carries more weight with you?" Stephen tapped the boy's chest. "The terrible or the wonderful? The goodness or the cruelty?

You gave him The Gashlycrumb Tinies?" asked Stephen. "By Edward Gorey? Oh, I think I really do love you," he said to Ruth.

Jean Guy Beauvoir was loosely wrapped but tightly wound.

Evil is unspectacular, and always human, And shares our bed and eats at our own table, And we are introduced to Goodness every day. Even in drawing rooms, among a crowd of faults.

They are four sentences we learn to say, and mean.' Gamache held up his hand as a fist and raised a finger with each point. 'I don't know. I need help. I'm sorry. And one other.' Gamache thought for a moment but couldn't bring it to mind. 'I forget. But we'll talk more about it tonight, right?