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Louise Penny

Louise Penny Quotes

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Famous Louise Penny Quotes

“But in his excitement and having eaten too fast, Henri gave himself away in an all too familiar fashion. In the front seat, both the Chief Inspector and Isabelle Lacoste cracked open their windows, preferring the bitter cold outside to what threatened to melt the upholstery inside. 'Does he do that often,' she gasped. 'It's a sign of affection, I'm told,' said the Chief, not meeting her eyes, 'a compliment.' Gamache paused, turning his head to window. 'A great compliment.' Isabelle Lacoste smiled. She was used to similar compliments from her husband and now their young son. She wondered why the Y chromosome was so smelly.”

PetsFlatulenceGamacheLouise PennyHow The Light Gets In
Book:How the Light Gets In
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“Gamache put his hand on Beauvoir's arm to stop him. 'Clara's in charge. She knows what she's doing.' 'She once ate potpourri thinking it was chips.' said Jean-Guy. 'She took a bath in soup, thinking it was bath salts. She turned a vacuum cleaner into a sculpture. She has no idea what she's doing.' Gamache smiled. 'At least if it all goes south, we have someone else to blame for once.' 'YOU do,' mumbled Beauvoir, tossing his bag into the back of the van. 'I always blamed you anyway. I'm no further ahead.”

GamacheLouise PennyBeauvoirThe Long Way Home
Book:The Long Way Home
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“She shifted her seat and shoved the thought aside. After spending most of her life scanning the horizon for slights and threats, genuine and imagined, she knew the real threat to her happiness came not from the dot in the distance, but from looking for it. Expecting it. Waiting for it. And in some cases, creating it. Her father had jokingly accused her of living in the wreckage of her future. Until one day she’d looked deep into his eyes and saw he wasn’t joking. He was warning her.”

Worrying About The Future
Book:The Long Way Home
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“Clara shrugged and immediately knew her betrayal of Peter. In one easy movement she'd distanced herself from his bad behavior, even thought she herself was responsible for it. Just before everyone had arrived, she'd told Peter about her adventure with Gamache. Animated and excited she'd gabbled on about her box and the woods and the exhilarating climb up the ladder to the blind. But her wall of words hid from her a growing quietude. She failed to notice his silence, his distance, until it was too late and he'd retreated all the way to his icy island. She hated that place. From it he stood and stared, judged, and lobbed shards of sarcasm. 'You and your hero solve Jane's death?' 'I thought you'd be pleased,' she half lied. She actually hadn't thought at all, and if she had, she probably could have predicted his reaction. But since he was comfortably on his Inuk island, she'd retreat to hers, equipped with righteous indignation and warmed by moral certitude. She threw great logs of 'I'm right, you're an unfeeling bastard' onto the fire and felt secure and comforted.”

RelationshipsSelf RighteousnessArguments
Book:Still Life
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“The reason Armand Gamache could go there was because it wasn't totally foreign to him. He knew it because he’d seen his own burned terrain, he’d walked off the familiar and comfortable path inside his own head and heart and seen what festered in the dark. And one day Jean Guy Beauvoir would look at his own monsters, and then be able to recognize others. And maybe this was the day and this was the case. He hoped so.”

MonstersMonsters Within
Book:A Rule Against Murder
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“This was the near mythical monastery of Saint-Gilbert-Entre-les-Loups. The home of two dozen cloistered, contemplative monks. Who had built their abbey as far from civilization as they could get. Twenty-four men had stepped beyond the door. It had closed. And not another living soul had been admitted. Until today. Chief Inspector Gamache, Jean-Guy Beauvoir and Captain Charbonneau were about to be let in. Their ticket was a dead man.”

Quebec
Book:The Beautiful Mystery
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“The bistro was his secret weapon in tracking down murderers. Not just in Three Pines, but in every town and village in Quebec. First he found a comfortable café or brasserie, or bistro, then he found the murderer. Because Armand Gamache knew something many of his colleagues never figured out. Murder was deeply human, the murdered and the murderer. To describe the murderer as a monstrosity, a grotesque, was to give him an unfair advantage. No. Murderers were human, and at the root of each murder was an emotion. Warped, no doubt. Twisted and ugly. But an emotion. And one so powerful it had driven a man to make a ghost. Gamache's job was to collect the evidence, but also to collect the emotions. And the only way he knew to do that was do get to know the people. To watch and listen. To pay attention, and the best way to do that was in a deceptively casual way in a deceptively casual setting. Like the bistro.”

MurderCafeBistroPeople Watching
Book:A Fatal Grace
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“It was a careworn face. But most of the lines, if followed back like a trail, would lead to happiness. To the faces a face made when laughing or smiling, or sitting quietly enjoying the day. Though some of those lines led elsewhere. Into a wilderness, into the wild. Where terrible things had happened. Some of the lines of his face led to events inhuman and abominable. To horrific sights. To unspeakable acts. Some of them his. The lines of his face were the longitude and latitude of his life.”

LifeLinesFaceLatitudeLongitude
Book:A Great Reckoning
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“I was gay bashed in Montreal when I was a kid by a group of grown men. That was terrifying." They'd grown silent.and, there was just the crackling and muttering of the fire in the background as Olivier spoke. "They hit me with sticks. It's funny, but when I think back that's the most painful part. Not the scrapes & bruises but before they hit me they kind of poked, ya know?" He jabbed with one arm to mimick their movements. "It was as though I wasn't human." "That's the necessary first step!" Said Myrna. "They dehumanize their victim. You've put it well" she spoke from experience. Before coming to Three Pines, she'd been a psychologist in Monteal. And, being black, she knew that singular expression when people saw her as furniture.”

HumansHateHurtLgbtq
Book:Chief Inspector Gamache: Still Life / A Fatal Grace / The Cruellest Month / A Rule Against Murder / The Brutal Telling
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“Hate bound a person to the one they hated. They were taken prisoner by that loathing, while the one they despised went merrily about their life, often oblivious. He was tired of being tied to this man. And yet he was so used to it, part of him did not want to be unbound. And a big part of him did not want to be in the position of having to say, I forgive you. And then work toward making that true.”

HateForgiveness
Book:The Black Wolf
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