Quotes from Louise Penny

There are four statements that lead to wisdom...You need to learn to say: I don't know. I'm sorry. I need help, and I was wrong.

El pasado siempre acaba encontrándote. Y por eso, Gamache lo sabía muy bien, era fundamental ser consciente de las acciones del presente. Porque el presente se convierte en el pasado, y el pasado va creciendo. Y se alza, y te sigue. Y te encuentra.

They'd reached St Thomas's and climbed the half-dozen wooden steps to the small veranda. Gamache

They settled, just for one blessed instant, on a place that held love, not loss.

Just because it's the truth doesn't make it any less insulting.

It had taken Beauvoir years to see the power of pausing. And of patience. Of taking a breath to consider all options, all angles, and not simply acting on the most obvious.

What is essential is invisible to the

Life is choice. All day, everyday. Who we talk to, where we sit, what we say, how we say it. And our lives become defined by our choices. It's as simple and as complex as that.

Maybe, said his brain and his upbringing, if you make enough tea and small talk, time reverses and all bad things are undone.

I'll keep it all inside; festering, rotting; but I'm really a nice person, kind, loving. "Get out of my way, you motherfucker." Oops, sorry …

trannies following them as she and Marc walked down the concrete

In my teens my drug of choice was acceptance, in my twenties it was approval, in my thirties it was love, in my forties it was Scotch.

Gamache dug his hands into the bark, feeling the wood pinch his palm, glad for the pain to concentrate on. His horrible fear, and the terrible betrayal, wasn't that he'd trip and fall, or even that the wooden blind would tumble to the ground. It was that he'd throw himself over the edge. That was the horror of vertigo. He felt pulled to the edge and over as if an anchor was attached to his leg. Unaided, unthreatened, he would essentially kill himself.

Regarding Notre Dame cathedral: "He could see the huge rose window that had, incredibly, survived the fire. It looked, behind the works, like a giant third eye. Gazing perpetually out at the City of Light and its citizens, while also gazing inward, at their motivations, their characters, their hearts and souls.

You mean if a good hunter did this it was on purpose?

The Ouellet Quints.

Had he inadvertently made the famed homicide department of the Surete an island? Far from saving careers of promising agents, had he in fact imprisoned them, kept them from the mainland of their peers?

He wondered if those who'd experienced death recognized the boatman.

Florida and figure it out.

Clara was that rare combination: she was sensible and sensitive.

her book. Ngaio Marsh. Myrna was re-reading the classics.

I'm sorry, I don't know, I need help, I forget.

The mind is its own place, and in itself Can make a Heav'n of Hell, a Hell of Heav'n.

Your beliefs become your thoughts Your thoughts become your words Your words become your actions Your actions become your destiny.