Quotes About Meaning

What a wonderful epitaph, thought Gamache. He cared for himself.

I'm Chief Inspector Armand Gamache, head of homicide for the Sûreté du Québec." "Voyons," he heard a loud whisper, "I told you it was him." A scattering of "Holy shit" was also heard.

We love life, thought Reine-Marie as she watched Ruth and Rosa sitting side by side, not because we are used to living, but because we are used to loving.

Kebek. Una palabra algonquina que quería decir «donde el río se estrecha».

you said that Hell is empty and all the devils are here. What did you mean?

But Peter knew it wasn't empty. For one thing he'd left part of himself in it. Not a hand or a nose or a foot, thank God. But things that had no substance but fantastic weight. He'd left his hope there, and trust. He'd left his faith there too. What little he had, he'd lost.

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

The great parade of life.' Gamache jumped in to stop the parade.

The fly in her argument is that when she says, 'they' will feel like lemons, we don't know who 'they' are. And 'they' might BE lemons.

Campingfahrt means not, as you might imagine, an unfortunate incident with Libby in a tent…. It means "camping trip." I think I have a natural talent for languages.

Spare time, as I used to understand it, was the time left over from doing the necessary, unpleasant things, like correcting Sophomore English themes or washing out silk stockings in the bathroom. It was the time i frittered away on useless, entertaining pursuits, like the movies or contract bridge. Now almost everything I do - except cooking- is fun, and it is also useful. There is no line of demarcation between work and play. It makes it hard to explain what I do with my spare time.

That is perhaps what we seek throughout life, that and nothing more, the greatest possible sorrow so as to become fully ourselves before dying.

Life is filigree work. What is written clearly is not worth much, it's the transparency that counts.

There's something sad about people going to bed. You can see they don't give a damn whether they're getting what they want out of life or not, you can see they don't even try to understand what we're here for. They just don't care.

I've had the chance to do something that's worth my being alive.

I am perfectly confident that I could never adequately convey to any other human being the precise reasons why I continue to refrain from suicide--the reasons, that is, why I still find existence enough of a compensation to atone for its dominantly burthensome quality.

And the wind blew the echoes of long-faded voices And they'd sing me a song that the old cowboys sang And I didn't know what the words meant or anything I was just singing because I was supposed to

When someone tells me what he or she was doing the first time they heard a song of mine, then I've done a good job. If my song becomes about your life, then I'm successful.

When trying to explain anything, I usually find that the Bible, that great collection of magnificent and varied poetry, has said it before in the best possible way.

Old events have modern meanings; only that survives Of past history which finds kindred in all hearts and lives.

Two meanings have our lightest fantasies -- One of the flesh, and of the spirit one.

The English Puritans pulled down church and state to rebuild Zion on the ruins, and all the while it was not Zion, but America, they were building.

More was lost than mere life and existence.

God cheats men into living on by hiding how blessed it is to die.