What People Mistook For Safety Was In

Now Here's A Good One: You're Lying On Your Deathbed. You Have One Hour To Live. Who Is It, Exactly, You Have Needed All These Years To Forgive?

When Someone Stabs You It's Not Your Fault That You Feel Pain.

I Turned Down All The Requests For The Rights To The Books, For Years, Mostly Because They Wanted The Rights To The Characters, And To Turn It Into A Tv Series. This Would Have Allowed Them To Do Anything They Wanted With The Characters, And That Just Wasn't An Option For Me.

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.

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.