Quotes from Louise Penny

People wandered in for books and conversation. They brought their stories to her, some bound, and some known by heart. She recognized some of the stories as real, and some as fiction. But she honored them all, though she didn't buy every one.

Is it true? Is it kind? Does it need to be said?

While Henri had a huge heart, he had quite a modest brain. His head was taken up almost entirely by his ears. In fact, his head seemed simply a sort of mount for those ears. Fortunately Henri didn't really need his head. He kept all the important things in his heart.

When someone stabs you it's not your fault that you feel pain.

When someone shoots at us, we return fire," said Jean-Guy. Now Jacques did nod. "But it's equally important that when someone is kind to us, we return that as well,

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.

The reason "belonging" was so potent, so attractive, so much a part of the human yearning, was that it also meant safety, and loyalty. If you were "one of us" you were protected.

Do you know what I've learned, after three decades of death?" Gamache asked, leaning toward the agent and lowering his voice. Despite himself, the agent leaned forward. "I've learned how precious life is.

The terror of falling asleep knowing that on waking she'd relive the loss, like Prometheus bound and tormented each day. Everything had changed. Even her grammar. Suddenly she lived in the past tense. And the singular.

He knew time could heal. But it could also do more damage. A forest fire, spread over time, would consume everything.

But correct and right were two different things. As were facts and truth.

Almost invariably people expected that if you were a good person you shouldn't meet a bad end, that only the deserving are killed and certainly only the deserving are murdered. However well hidden and subtle, there was a sense that a murdered person had somehow asked for it. That's why the shock when someone they knew to be kind and good was a victim. There was a feeling that surely there had been a mistake.

Not everything needed to be brought into the light, he knew. Not every truth needed to be told.

The lines of his face were the longitude and latitude of his life.

Her voice was slightly accented but her French was perfect. Someone who'd not just learned the language but loved it. And it showed with every syllable. Gamache knew it was impossible to split language from culture. That without one the other withered. To love the language was to respect the culture.

Light is every bit as challenging as dark. We can discover a great deal about ourselves by looking at beauty.

Being jealous] is like drinking acid, and expecting the other person to die.

Matthew 10:36," he'd said. "And a man's foes shall be they of his own household. Never forget that, Agent Lacoste.

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

Love and worry. They went hand in hand. Fellow travelers.

Gamache enjoyed going to churches for their music and the beauty of the language and the stillness. But he felt closer to God in his Volvo.

It was one thing to forgive, it was another to climb back into the cage with that bear, even if it was wearing a tutu and smiling.

Be careful. You're making hurting a habit. Spreading it around won't lessen your pain, you know. Just the opposite.

As a good rule of thumb, if you have to lie, you might be doing something wrong.