A Great Reckoning (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache, #12)

by Louise Penny

And she knew that that was why drugs were so dangerous. Because they blew the mind. Not the heart. But the mind. And the heart followed. And the soul followed that.

Chief Inspector Lacoste knew murders were built on tiny, almost imperceptible things. They were almost never provoked by a single massive event, but rather by an accumulation of small insults, slights, lies. Bruises. Until the final flesh wound proved fatal.

The object of life is not to be on the side of the majority, but to escape finding oneself in the ranks of the insane.

“Not at all. It’s a terrible thing that’s happened. Your email said a death. An accident?” “Non. Deliberate. A single shot to the temple.” “Ahhh,” she said, with some sadness but without surprise. When you make handguns, thought Beauvoir, what exactly do you think will happen?

Geography decides if you’re the invaded or the invader.”

“Britain was invaded over and over, until it realized its weakness was also its strength. Britannia turned her efforts to ruling the waves and so, in turn, ruled the world. That wouldn’t have happened had it not been an island nation.”

“Geography is history,” said Amelia,

Ruth believed in precycling. An evolution on recycling. She made use of things before people threw them out.

“Don’t believe everything you think,” said Gamache, before releasing the hand and opening the door. “Pema Chödrön. A Buddhist nun.”

“There is always a road back. If we have the courage to look for it, and take it. I’m sorry. I was wrong. I don’t know.” He paused again. “I need help. Those are the signposts. The cardinal directions.”