To be silent. In hopes of not offending, in hopes of being accepted. But what happened to people who never spoke, never raised their voices? Kept everything inside? Gamache knew what happened. Everything they swallowed, every word, thought, feeling rattled around inside, hollowing the person out. And into that chasm they stuffed their words, their rage.

Better to accept the wretched truth than struggle, twisting to make a wish a reality.

The question that haunted every investigation was 'why'.

When someone stabs you it's not your fault that you feel pain.

I've seen enough successful writers who no longer seem to care when they are recognized with an award, and I think that's just tragic.

But you want murderous feelings? Hang around librarians," confided Gamache. "All that silence. Gives them ideas.

A journalist also needs to be disciplined, and so do I. I am, essentially, lazy. Without discipline I'd be just a mass of gummy bears on the sofa instead of on book tour with my eighth novel.