I'm Just Like This. I Have No

But There Was No Hiding From Conscience. Not In New Homes And New Cars. In Travel. In Meditation Or Frantic Activity. In Children, In Good Works. On Tiptoes Or Bended Knee. In A Big Career. Or A Small Cabin. It Would Find You. The Past Always Did. Which Was Why... 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?

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.

But, Like Peace, Comfort Didn't Come From Hiding Away Or Running Away. Comfort First Demanded Courage.

Things Are Strongest Where They're Broken.

But You Want Murderous Feelings? Hang Around Librarians," Confided Gamache. "all That Silence. Gives Them Ideas.