Quotes from Jacqueline Winspear

Was it that she did not trust happily ever after, that she was deliberately indifferent to the possibility? Or was happily ever after another one of time's secrets, waiting to be revealed on the journey?

We must bring light to the darkened room, Maisie. Maurice's voice echoed down the years, and it was as if he were with her. Knowledge is the light. Information is the light. Come out of the darkness one lamp at a time. Paint your picture of what came to pass question by question—and remember, some are never meant to be answered because the response closes the door to knowledge you most want and

Standing alongside a harp, she stretched out her hand and ran her fingers across the strings, the tumble of notes reminding her of a shower on a bright day, of primrose petals bending to the weight of raindrops. She regretted never having learned to play an instrument.

about putting on the light in a dark room. He told me that when we keep secrets they grow inside us, and we can't see the truth of them anymore.

She enjoyed this benign memory; there were other strands of reflection reaching back over the years that were akin to electric cables, able to shock if touched. Those hot wires of remembrance were all around her.

She locked the cupboard, took her place in the driver's seat and slipped the pistol into her shoulder bag—if she carried a bag, it would always have enough room to conceal a weapon.

Grief from the war casts a shadow that at times was dense and at others seemed as pale as a length of gauze, but it was never gone.

Think of a dead body as if you are viewing a set of clothing, Maisie - but consider it as the attire the soul has worn for many a year. And it is clothing that has something to teach us about the man or woman under the knife.

just because you know right from wrong, it doesn't mean you stay away from the wrong part.

the time it took to brush away one tear could mean the difference between saving a soldier or laying him out after death.

Every boy had grown to manhood with a family of mother, father and village. A man and woman might have lost their son but they had also lost his best friend and the boys who had played football together in the street after school and cricket on the green in summer. "Who have we lost?" the words echoed in her ears.

the entire area was once apple orchards – all down to Henry the Eighth and his desire for an abundant supply of fresh fruit in days of yore.

over several weeks, so during that

I reckon, Billy, that there's such a thing as serendipity, that if you are meant to move on, you will. And I believe that if you imagine, and keep on imagining, a better life for your family, then events will conspire to present the opportunity to you. And when that time comes, you will make your decision, one way or another." "Bit of a gamble, though, ain't it?" "So is staying in one spot." Epilogue

It could be argued that we leave everything most loved with each new experience that demands we grow.

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe: "A man can stand anything, except a succession of ordinary days." When she

We are all impacted by the events that will become history.

And as she grieved, she realized that she had never trusted the world to keep herself or those she loved safe. From the moment of her mother's death, she had known that terror could be around the next corner at any moment. Had there ever been a time when she felt the clutch of fear in her gut loosen its grip, so that she could have faith in the future?

that Maurice had wanted her to spend time in a teaching capacity—she reminded herself that there was an element of truth in the tale. Maurice had often spoken to her of the importance of passing on knowledge, and of the skill involved in presenting ideas and facts in a manner that was engaging and made a lasting impression—whether the recipient of that knowledge was an employee, a student, or a child.

Always seeking to do rather than to be. Do you really seek the counsel of the spirit?

A short time ago death was the cruel stranger, the visitor with the flannel footsteps . . . today it is the mad dog in the house. One eats, one drinks beside the dead, one sleeps in the midst of the dying, one laughs and sings in the company of corpses. —GEORGES DUHAMEL, French doctor serving at Verdun in the Great War

asks us to endure. Thus I would suggest that you

knew only too well that the path of grief could not be scripted.

The Rule of Benedict, the fourth rung of humility requires us to hold fast to patience with a silent mind, especially when facing difficulties, contradictions—and even any injustice.