Quotes from Louise Penny

Clara tried to give the eulogy, but couldn't speak. Her words stuck at the lump in her throat. And so Myrna took over, holding her hand while Clara stood beside her.

You can't get milk from a hardware store. So stop asking for something that can't be given. And look for what is offered.

Knowledge, ideas, thoughts. Imagination. All invisible. All lived in libraries.

Arguing as a now senior Sûreté officer that there was absolutely no reason a member of the public should have a handgun. And certainly not an assault-style weapon. They were only designed, and intended, to shoot humans.

Unlike most of us, who tend to be transparent, people rarely see through a psychopath," she continued. "He's masterful. People trust and believe him. Even like him. It's his great skill. Convincing people that his point of view is legitimate and right, often when all the evidence points in the other direction. Like Iago. It's a kind of magic.

Rummaging through the cupboard like a wartime surgeon frantically searching for the right bandage, Peter swept aside Yogi Tea and Harmony Herbal Blend, though he hesitated for a second over chamomile. But no. Stay focused, he admonished himself. He knew it was there, that opiate of the Anglos. And his hand clutched the box just as the kettle whistled. Violent death demanded Earl Grey.

But I understand your doubts. They're what make you a great man, not your certainties.

the Maori and their haka. It is death. It is death, they chant. To terrify, to petrify.

They all had them. Secrets. But some stank more than others.

if a woman was ever driven so far as to pick up a weapon, she would be the most committed, the least likely to ever give up. Kill the women first. Lacoste still hated the advice. The simplicity of it. The baldness. But she also hated that the philosophy behind it was almost certainly true.

Gamache had asked not because he didn't know the answer, but because he wanted to see if Peter would lie to him. He had. And if he'd lie about that, what else had he lied about?

Photos sat on the piano and shelves bulged with books, testament to a life well lived.

Everyone in the farmyard was staring at Gamache with open astonishment, including the donkeys. But human behavior often astonished them.

No learning curve at all, marveled Gamache. But he realized Henri already knew all he'd ever need. He knew he was loved. And he knew how to love.

There's something about her, something bitter, that resents happiness in others, and needs to ruin it. That's probably what makes her a great poet, she knows what it is to suffer. She gathers suffering to her. Collects it, and sometimes creates it.

Like the street his gallery was on, Fortin had an attractive front, hiding quite a foul interior. He was opportunistic. He fed on the talent of others. Got rich on the talent of others. While most of the artists themselves barely scraped by, and took all the risks.

In winter the very ground seemed to reach up and grab the elderly, yanking them to earth as though hungry for them. Shattering a hip or wrist, or neck. Best to take it slow.

And her arms would open wide, in welcome. It seemed involuntary, as though her mother were exposing her heart to her daughter.

Armand Gamache wondered whether CC de Poitiers was at that very moment trying to explain herself to a perplexed God and two very angry seals.

Fear lives in the head. And courage lives in the heart. The job is to get from one

said Myrna after a moment. 'Loss of parents, loss of loves, loss of jobs. So we have to find a higher meaning in our lives than these things and people. Otherwise we'll lose ourselves.

the one-eyed man is king,

I don't know. I was wrong. I'm sorry." Lacoste recited them slowly, lifting a finger to count them off. "I need help," the Chief said, completing the statements. The ones he'd taught young Agent Lacoste many years ago. The ones he'd recited to all his new agents.

Who made the rule that people shouldn't eat or drink in a church?" So they'd tried it. At first it felt awkward, wrong. As though God would be offended if people took a meal in his house. Until they realized that the sacrilege wasn't eating and talking and laughing in the chapel. It was leaving it empty.