Quotes About Gamache

Shakespeare: …the best way to peace is to have a still and quiet conscience. Or none at all, thought Gamache.

In the kitchen Gamache's German shepherd, Henri, sat up in his bed and cocked his head. He had huge oversized ears which made Gamache think he wasn't purebred but a cross between a shepherd and a satellite dish.

The shepherd looked in his direction. Gone to the wrong house, thought Gamache, not altogether surprised. 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.

Gamache watched the old poet. He knew what was looming behind the Mountain. What crushed all before it. The thing the Hermit most feared. The Mountain most feared. Conscience. ... Which is why, Gamache knew, it was vital to be aware of actions in the present. Because the present became the past, and the past grew. And got up, and followed you. And found you ... Who wouldn't be afraid of this?

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. And Gamache knew what grew in that darkness. He searched for it every day.

Bang. You're dead.' Gamache swung around, but had recognised the voice an instant after he'd begun to turn. 'You're a sneak, Jean Guy. I'm going to have to put a cow bell on you.' 'Not again.' It wasn't often he could get the drop on the chief. But Beauvoir had begun to worry. Suppose he snuck up on Gamache sometime and he had a heart attack? It would certainly take the fun out of it.

Shakespeare: …the best way to peace is to have a still and quiet conscience. Or none at all, thought Gamache.

Ruth whacked the seat beside her on the sofa, in what could only be interpreted as an invitation. It was like receiving a personalized Molotov cocktail. Gamache

I am tired," Gamache murmured as he walked into the gentle little village. "But I am at peace.

Dear God, thought Gamache, save me from a huffy priest.

That's why I made the muffins from rose water, as a homage to Jane. Then I ate them, as you saw. I always eat my pain.' Gabri smiled slightly. Looking at the size of the man, Gamache marveled at the amount of pain he must have.

Watching the man approach with a strong, determined step, Rosenblatt suspected Gamache was no more retired than he 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.

English voice. Gamache strained but couldn't make out which boat it was, nor did he recognize the voice. It wasn't Tom Hancock. Nor did he think it was likely to be Ken Haslam. A telescope was available, and though it was all but frozen, as was he, Gamache put some money in and trained it on the river.

You've never had teenagers," said Gamache. "It's Like living with a ferret." I'll interview them," said Beauvoir. "I have a way with kids. "Since When?" asked Isabelle. "Since I was issued a gun." replied Beauvoir.

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

As she got closer, Clara Morrow saw Gamache do it again. He took off his half-moon reading glasses, then

He hated it, hated it, when Gamache pushed him like that. Not physically, but pushed him to consider feelings. Beliefs. Emotions. When Gamache insisted that they could possibly be as important as thoughts. As facts.

He's a saint." Beauvoir laughed, but seeing Gamache's serious face he stopped. "What do you mean?" "There're some people who believe that." "Seemed like an asshole to me." "The hardest part of the process. Telling them apart.

Gamache asked, sipping his cold cucumber and raspberry soup. There was a bit of dill in it, a hint of lemon and something sweet.

And in the silence Leduc realized what Gamache exuded. It wasn't force. It was power.

He respected Gamache more than any other human being, but saw his flaw, perhaps a fatal flaw, as a desire to help people, instead of just firing them.

The room erupted into laughter. Indeed, people laughed all the way through. When Brian told them about being in the psych ward and having his doctor ask how much he drank, and he told him a beer a day, the place went hysterical with laughter. Gamache and Beauvoir exchanged looks. Even the president was amused.

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