Quotes About Murder

She knew how the Chief Inspector preferred decorum at the site of a murder, especially in the presence of the corpse. It was rare. Most murder scenes were filled with smart-ass and often gruesome comments, made by men and women frightened by what they saw, and believing sarcasm and rude remarks kept the monsters at bay. They didn't.

Our secrets make us sick because they separate us from other people. Keep us alone. Turn us into fearful, angry, bitter people. Turn us against others, and finally against ourselves. A murder almost always began with a secret. Murder was a secret spread over time. Gamache

Why did he kill his own mother?' Ruth asked. 'The oldest story in the book,' said Gamache. 'Ben was a male prostitute?' Gabri exclaimed. 'That's the oldest profession. Where do you keep your head?' asked Ruth. 'Never mind, don't answer that.

After years of investigating murders Chief Inspector Gamache knew one thing about hate. It bound you forever to the person you hated. Murder wasn't committed out of hate, it was done as a terrible act of freedom. To finally rid yourself of the burden.

Chief Inspector Gamache knew one thing about hate. It bound you forever to the person you hated. Murder wasn't committed out of hate, it was done as a terrible act of freedom. To finally rid yourself of the burden.

But Armand always said people react differently to death, and it was folly to judge anyone and double folly to judge what people do when faced with sudden, violent death. Murder. They weren't themselves.

The place didn't even have crime. Except murder. The only criminal thing that ever happened in this village was the worst possible crime.

If the first victim of war was the truth, some of the first victims of a murder investigation were people's lies.

one thing about hate. It bound you for ever to the person you hated. Murder wasn't committed out of hate, it was done as a terrible act of freedom. To finally rid yourself of the burden.

Had CC de Poitiers known she was going to be murdered she might have bought her husband, Richard, a Christmas gift.

And thought about tyranny, and murder. And whether it was ever right to kill one for the sake of the many.

Looking around he realised how much he liked this place and these people. Too bad one of them was a murderer.

Only while on a murder case did he drink fast-food coffee. It was so associated in his mind with the teamwork, the long hours, the standing in cold, damp fields, that his heart raced every time he smelt industrial coffee and wet cardboard.

Actually, the real mystery is why more people don't commit murder. It must be terrible to be human.

Did you ever suspect us?' Gamache looked at the two men, one huge and buoyant, the other slim and self-contained. 'No. I think you've both been hurt too much in your lives by the cruelty of others to ever be cruel yourselves. In my experience people who have been hurt either pass it on and become abusive themselves or they develop a great kindness. You're not the types to do murder. I wish I could say the same for everyone here.

The funny thing about murder is that the act is often committed decades before the actual action.

Fear might stop some people from committing murder, but he knew for certain fear was what drove most people to kill. It was what nested below all the other emotions. It was what twisted and turned the other emotions into something sick. It was an alchemist and could turn daylight into night, joy into despair. Fear, once taken root, blocked the sun.

Gun control has not worked in D.C. The only people who have guns are criminals. We have the strictest gun laws in the nation and one of the highest murder rates. It's quicker to pull your Smith & Wesson than to dial 911 if you're being robbed.

They [intellectuals] coined most of the slogans that guided the butcheries of Bolshevism, Fascism, and Nazism. Intellectuals extolling the delights of murder, writers advocating censorship, philosophers judging the merits of thinkers and authors, not according to the value of their contributions but according to their achievements on battlefields, are the spiritual leaders of our age of perpetual strife.

Man is nature, nature man, and all crude and raw, stinking, vicious, evil. And holding that evil lightly because the collective mind refuses to recall the spring of mountains, the vault of seas and, of course, beside that, the puny murder of millions.

The wisdom to recognize and halt follows the know-how to pollute past rescue. The treaty's signed, but the cancer ticks in your bones. Until I'd murdered my father and fornicated my mother I wasn't wise enough to see I was Oedipus.

Seated opposite me in the railway carriage, the elderly lady in the fox-fur shawl was recalling some of the murders that she had committed over the years.

How could I embrace decently and with the full ardor of my body and mind someone I suspected of murder? Was I embracing despair, was this an obscene passion, had I at that wedding so many years ago seen not beauty at all, but cruelty in her large eyes?

Murder is unique in that it abolishes the party it injures, so that society has to take the place of the victim and on his behalf demand atonement or grant forgiveness; it is the one crime in which society has a direct interest.