Home Inspectors Quotes

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Fear lives in the head. And courage lives in the heart. The job is to get from one to the other.” “And between the two is the lump in the throat,
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
Three Pines wasn’t on any tourist map, being too far off any main or even secondary road. Like Narnia, it was generally found unexpectedly and with a degree of surprise that such an elderly village should have been hiding in this valley all along. Anyone fortunate enough to find it once usually found their way back.
Louise Penny (Still Life (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache, #1))
Our lives are like a house. Some people are allowed on the lawn, some onto the porch, some get into the vestibule or the kitchen. The better friends are invited deeper into our home, into our living room.' 'And some are let into the bedroom,' said Gamache.
Louise Penny (How the Light Gets In (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache, #9))
I’ll pray that you grow up a brave man in a brave country. I will pray you find a way to be useful.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
You too?" She asked Ruth. "How do your poems start out?" "They start as a lump in the throat," she said.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache, #10))
Turmoil shook loose all sorts of unpleasant truths. But it took peace to examine them.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache, #10))
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?
Louise Penny (The Brutal Telling (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache, #5))
[Being jealous] is like drinking acid, and expecting the other person to die.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache, #10))
Anything your father said. People he might have mentioned.” “Amos,” I blurted out, just to see his reaction. “He met a man named Amos.” Inspector Williams sighed. “Sadie, he couldn’t have done. Surely you know that. We spoke with Amos not one hour ago, on the phone from his home in New York.” “He isn’t in New York!” I insisted. “He’s right—” I glanced out the window and Amos was gone. Bloody typical.
Rick Riordan (The Red Pyramid (The Kane Chronicles, #1))
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.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
Clara didn't carry a grudge. They were too heavy and she had too far to go.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache, #10))
If love was compass enough, said Armand quietly, there would be no missing children.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache, #10))
Gamache knew people were like homes. Some were cheerful and bright, some gloomy. Some could look good on the outside but feel wretched on the interior. And some of the least attractive homes, from the outside, were kindly and warm inside. He also knew the first few rooms were for public consumption. It was only in going deeper that he'd find the reality. And finally, inevitably, there was the last room, the one we keep locked, and bolted and barred, even from ourselves. Especially from ourselves.
Louise Penny (The Cruelest Month (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache, #3))
What’s the use of healing, if the life that’s saved is callow and selfish and ruled by fear? There’s a difference between being in sanctuary and being in hiding.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
Most people want to be led. But suppose they choose the wrong leader? They end up with the Donner party.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
Not everyone’s an explorer, and not every explorer makes it back alive. That’s why it takes so much courage.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
Jacob, inspector of shadows, miraculous interpreter of squirmy gut feelings, seer and slayer of real and actual monsters—
Ransom Riggs (Hollow City (Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children, # 2))
This was the great benefit of seeing worse. Fewer things worried him now.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
Fear lives in the head. And courage lives in the heart. The job is to get from one to the other.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
There is a balm in Gilead,” she read from the back, “to make the wounded whole—” “There’s power enough in Heaven / To cure a sin-sick soul.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
Beauvoir left their home wanting to call his wife and tell her how much he loved her, and then tell her what he believed in, and his fears and hopes and disappointments. To talk about something real and meaningful. He dialed his cell phone and got her. But the words got caught somewhere south of his throat. Instead he told her the weather had cleared, and she told him about the movie she'd rented. Then they both hung up.
Louise Penny (Still Life (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache, #1))
Annie laughed. She had a face, a body, made not for a Paris runway but for good meals and books by the fire and laughter. She was constructed from, and for, happiness. But it had taken Annie Gamache a long while to find it. To trust it.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
believe in using your head. But not in spending too much time in there. Fear lives in the head. And courage lives in the heart. The job is to get from one to the other.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
Thinking is an action,
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
There are apparently few limitations either of time or space on where the psyche might journey and only the customs inspector employed by our own inhibitions restricts what it might bring back when it reenters the home country of everyday consciousness.
Tom Robbins (Jitterbug Perfume)
How do your poems start out?” “They start as a lump in the throat,” she said. “Isn’t that normally just a cocktail olive lodged there?” Olivier asked. “Once,” Ruth admitted. “Wrote quite a good poem before I coughed it up.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
Her voice was flat, in a way Myrna recognized from years of listening to people trying to rein in their emotions. To squash them down, flatten, them, and with them their words and their voices. Desperately trying to make the horrific sound mundane.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache, #10))
Peter's a lucky man except in one respect, he doesn't seem to know how lucky he is.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache, #10))
he’d come to agree with Sister Prejean that no one was as bad as the worst thing they’d done.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
Turmoil shook loose all sorts of unpleasant truths. But it took peace to examine them.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
Sometimes the only way up is down. Sometimes the only way forward is to back up.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
That was why she was happy. He now knew that happiness and kindness went together. There was not one without the other.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
I asked him to leave because he stopped caring for me, stopped supporting me. Not because I’d stopped caring for him.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
Yes, you are right. I lost my home, my mother, my identity. I lost it. Not you, Inspector Imandar. I did. They I don't understand, what did you lose? What did you lose that you hate them so much?
Sanchit Gupta (The Tree with a Thousand Apples)
Our lives are like a house. Some people are allowed on the lawn, some onto the porch, some get into the vestibule or kitchen. The better friends are invited deeper into our home, into our living room.
Louise Penny (How the Light Gets In (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache, #9))
Death went well with bare stone and it was the little crowd of modern men who looked incongruous.
Catherine Aird (The Stately Home Murder (Inspector Sloan #3))
Dr. Vincent Gilbert lived in the heart of the forest. Away from human conflict, but also away from human contact. It was a compromise he was more than happy to make.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
Armand Gamache had seen the worst. But he’d also seen the best. Often in the same person.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
A coy smile could capture him, but it was finally a hearty laugh that had freed him.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
Like a ship changing course. It might take a while to get to port, but at least it was going in the right direction.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache, #10))
Maybe this was now normal for Olivier. Maybe every now and then he simply wept. Not in pain or sadness. The tears were just overwhelming memories, rendered into water, seeping out.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache, #10))
Jilly Beaton's a vicious cow. Inspectors love her, but she's a cow when they've gone." "Back home in Argentina," sniffed Isabella, "cows are very important, but they know their place.
Gabriella Poole (Secret Lives (Darke Academy, #1))
I’ll pray that you grow up a brave man in a brave country,” Clara said. “I will pray you find a way to be useful,” Gamache completed the quote. Reine-Marie dropped her eyes to her hands and saw the paper napkin twisted and shredded there. Clara nodded slowly. “I think you might be right. Peter went to Paris not to find a new artistic voice. It was simpler than that. He wanted to find a way to be useful.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
An unsuspected yearning uncovered, discovered. For a simpler time and a simpler life. Before Internet, and climate change, and terrorism. When neighbors worked together, and separation was not a topic or an issue or wise.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
She took the long way home,” said Ruth. “Some do, you know. They seem lost. Sometimes they might even head off in the wrong direction. Lots of people give up, say they’re gone forever, but I don’t believe that. Some make it home, eventually.
Louise Penny (How the Light Gets In (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache, #9))
Courage is not measured by Marching bands and banners in the wind. If you have not walked The bloody lines and seen the faces, You have no right to describe it so. We die here to keep you safe at home, And what we suffer Pray you may never know.
Charles Todd (A False Mirror (Inspector Ian Rutledge, #9))
Brittles stood at attention until Jack looked at him, then he bowed slightly. “I’m sorry to disturb you, sir, but an Inspector Swindler from Scotland Yard wishes to speak with you. Are you home?” “Of course, I’m home, man. I’m sitting right here.
Lorraine Heath (Between the Devil and Desire (Scoundrels of St. James, #2))
Peter always had a ‘best before’ date stamped on his forehead,” said Ruth. “People who live in their heads do. They start out well enough, but eventually they run out of ideas. And if there’s no imagination, no inspiration to fall back on? Then what?
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
Everybody talks to me about ‘P.M.s,’” complained Chief Detective-Inspector Alleyn to Inspector Fox on Monday afternoon, “and I never know whether they mean post-mortem or Prime Minister. Really, it’s very difficult when you happen to be involved with both.
Ngaio Marsh (The Nursing Home Murder (Roderick Alleyn, #3))
In a life filled with great good fortune of health, of creativity, of friends, living in safety and privilege with the loving partner. There was just one bit of misfortune in his life and that was that Peter Morrow seemed to have no idea how very fortunate he was.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache, #10))
All that had been trivial, that had been comforting and familiar and safe, now seemed to be strapped with explosives.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache, #10))
Peter Morrow took no risks. He neither failed nor succeeded. There were no valleys, but neither were there mountains. Peter’s landscape was flat. An endless, predictable desert.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
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.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
That was why she was happy. He now knew that happiness ad kindness went together. There was not one without the other. For Jean-Guy it was a struggle. For Annie it seemed natural.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache, #10))
They were home. He always felt a bit like a snail, but instead of carrying his home on his back, he carried it in his arms.
Louise Penny (A Rule Against Murder (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache, #4))
Their creations eventually die of neglect, of malnourishment. And sometimes, when that happens the artist also dies.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache, #10))
Any real act of creation is first an act of destruction. Picasso said it, and it’s true. We don’t build on the old, we tear it down. And start fresh.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
Maybe every now and then he simply wept. Not in pain or sadness. The tears were just overwhelming memories, rendered into water, seeping out.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
But he’d come to agree with Sister Prejean that no one was as bad as the worst thing they’d done. Armand Gamache had seen the worst. But he’d also seen the best. Often in the same person.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
There is an incident which occurred at the examination during my first year at the high school and which is worth recording. Mr. Giles, the Educational Inspector, had come on a visit of inspection. He had set us five words to write as a spelling exercise. One of the words was 'kettle'. I had mis-spelt it. The teacher tried to prompt me with the point of his boot, but I would not be prompted. It was beyond me to see that he wanted me to copy the spelling from my neighbour's slate, for I had thought that the teacher was there to supervise us against copying. The result was that all the boys, except myself, were found to have spelt every word correctly. Only I had been stupid. The teacher tried later to bring this stupidity home to me, but without effect. I never could learn the art of 'copying'.
Mahatma Gandhi (All Men are Brothers: Autobiographical Reflections)
Most of the people came through my door because of a crisis in their lives, and most of those crises boiled down to loss. Loss of a marriage or an important relationship. Loss of security. A job, a home, a parent. Something drove them to ask for help and to look deep inside themselves. And the catalyst was often change and loss.
Louise Penny (Still Life (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #1))
Now he realized that somehow those who had served in France and elsewhere knew a world that couldn’t be shared. How could he tell his sister—or even his father, if the elder Rutledge was still alive—what had been done on bloody ground far from home? It would be criminal to fill their minds with scenes that no one should have to remember. No one.
Charles Todd (A False Mirror (Inspector Ian Rutledge, #9))
I’m afraid it won’t stop, and all my bones will disappear and one day I’ll just dissolve. I won’t be able to stand up anymore, or move.” She looked into Clara’s eyes. Clung to Clara’s eyes. “Mostly I’m afraid that it won’t matter. Because I have nowhere to go, and nothing to do. No need of bones.” And Clara knew then that as great as her own grief was, nothing could compare to this hollow woman and her hollow home. There wasn’t just a wound where Laurent had once been. This was a vacuum, into which everything tumbled. A great gaping black hole that sucked all the light, all the matter, all that mattered, into it. Clara, who knew grief, was suddenly frightened herself. By the magnitude of this woman’s loss.
Louise Penny (The Nature of the Beast (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #11))
Every morning he went for a walk with his wife, Reine-Marie, and their German shepherd Henri. Tossing the tennis ball ahead of them, they ended up chasing it down themselves when Henri became distracted by a fluttering leaf, or a black fly, or the voices in his head. The dog would race after the ball, then stop and stare into thin air, moving his gigantic satellite ears this way and that. Honing in on some message. Not tense, but quizzical. It was, Gamache recognized, the way most people listened when they heard on the wind the wisps of a particularly beloved piece of music. Or a familiar voice from far away.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
Fear lives in the head. And courage lives in the heart. The job is to get from one
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
You forced me to give you poisonous gifts. I can put this no other way. Everything I gave was to get rid of you As one gives to a beggar: There. Go away.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache, #10))
But he’d come to agree with Sister Prejean that no one was as bad as the worst thing they’d done.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
He now knew that happiness and kindness went together.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
I’ll pray that you grow up a brave man in a brave country,” Clara said. “I will pray you find a way to be useful,” Gamache completed the quote.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
Haven’t you ever heard of an artist’s muse?” the barman asked. “They all seem to either have one or want one. Me, all I want is peace and quiet.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
And I would never, ever mock the power of love. But it can also distort. Slip over into desperation and delusion.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
If love was compass enough,” said Armand quietly, “there would be no missing children.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
We long to find home. After years and years of making war on everyone around us, on ourselves, we just want peace.’ ‘And
Louise Penny (A Trick of the Light (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #7))
Photos sat on the piano and shelves bulged with books, testament to a life well lived.
Louise Penny (Still Life (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache, #1))
Clara tried to give the eulogy, but couldn’t speak. Her words stuck at the lump in her throat. And so Myrna took over, holding her hand while Clara stood beside her.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
It’s like drinking acid,” said Myrna, “and expecting the other person to die.” Gamache nodded.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
The bar was, in fact, a library. A place Dickens would have been comfortable in. Where Conan Doyle might have found a useful volume. Where Jane Austen could sit and read. And get drunk, if she wanted.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
Today the man who has the courage to build himself a house constructs a meeting place for the people who will descend upon him on foot, by car, or by telephone. Employees of the gas, the electric, and the water- works will arrive; agents from life and fire insurance companies; building inspectors, collectors of radio tax; mortgage creditors and rent assessors who tax you for living in your own home.
Ernst Jünger (The Glass Bees)
Homes, Gamache knew, were a self portrait. A person's choice of color, furnishing, pictures, every touch revealed the individual. God, or the devil, was in the details. And so was the human. Was it dirty, messy, obsessively clean? Were the decorations chosen to impress, or were they a hodgepodge of personal history? Was the space cluttered or clear? He felt a thrill every time he entered a home during an investigation.
Louise Penny (Still Life (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache, #1))
Sir William was also startled, but when Vicky smiled at him, rather in the manner of an engaging street-urchin, his countenance relaxed slightly, and he asked her what she was doing with herself now that she had come home to live. "Well it all depends," she replied seriously. Sir William had no daughters, but only his memories of his sisters to guide him, so he said that he had no doubt she was a great help to her mother, arranging flowers, and that kind of thing. "Oh no, only if it's that sort of a day!" said Vicky. Sir William was still turning this remark over in his mind when the butler came in to announce that dinner was served.
Georgette Heyer (No Wind of Blame (Inspectors Hannasyde & Hemingway, #5))
He loved Clara. I miss a lot in life,” said Gilbert. “But I have a nose for love.” “Like a truffle pig,” said Beauvoir, then regretted it when he saw the asshole saint’s reaction. Then, unexpectedly, Gilbert smiled. “Exactly. I can smell it. Love has an aroma all its own, you know.” Beauvoir looked at Gilbert, amazed by what he’d just heard. Maybe, he thought, this man was— “Smells like compost,” said Gilbert. —an asshole after all.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
What’s the use of healing, if the life that’s saved is callow and selfish and ruled by fear? There’s a difference between being in sanctuary and being in hiding.” “So you have to leave sanctuary in order to have it?” she asked.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
We love life, thought Reine-Marie as she watched Ruth and Rosa sitting side by side, not because we are used to living, but because we are used to loving. Nietzsche. How Armand would kid her if he knew she was quoting Nietzsche, even to herself.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
I don’t know. I was wrong. I’m sorry.” Lacoste recited them slowly, lifting a finger to count them off. “I need help,” the Chief said, completing the statements. The ones he’d taught young Agent Lacoste many years ago. The ones he’d recited to all his new agents.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
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
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
Would he love this place less because he needed it less? Again he looked at Three Pines, the little village lost in the valley and felt the familiar lifting of his heart. But would it lift if there was no load? Was the final fear that, in losing his fears, he would also lose his joy?
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache, #10))
That’s what I believe,” said Ruth. “Peter didn’t. Here was a man who was given everything. Talent, love, a peaceful place to live and create. And all he had to do was appreciate it.” “And if he didn’t?” “He would remain stone. And the deities would turn on him. They do, you know. They’re generous, but they demand gratitude.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
He won't tell me very much about his war. None of us do. It isn't something to share, you see. What we've seen, what we've done, ought to stay in France. But it didn't, it came home in our memories. They aren't memories we want you to know. You are the world we fought for. Safe and sane and not ugly. Better to keep it that way.
Charles Todd (The Black Ascot (Inspector Ian Rutledge, #21))
Gamache loved to see inside the homes of people involved in a case. To look at the choices they made for their most intimate space. The colors, the decorations. The aromas. Were there books? What sort? How did it feel? He'd been in shacks in the middle of nowhere, carpets worn, upholstery torn, wallpaper peeling off. But stepping in he'd also noticed the smell of fresh coffee and bread. Walls were taken up with immense smiling graduation photos and on rusty pocked TV trays stood modest chipped vases with cheery daffodils or pussy willows or some tiny wild flower picked by worn hands for eyes that would adore it. And he'd been in mansions that felt like mausoleums.
Louise Penny (The Cruelest Month (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache, #3))
I said I was looking for the temple of the saints, in order to find myself. He told me I didn’t need the temple, he would show me all I needed to know. Here is what it takes, he said, and he set his burden on the ground and stood straight. “But what do I do when I go home? I asked. Simple, he said. When you go home you do this—and he put the burden back on his shoulder.
Eliot Pattison (The Skull Mantra (Inspector Shan, #1))
You were one of the lucky ones," Dr. Fleming had told him not a fortnight ago. "But you can't see it as luck. In your view it's intolerable, your survival. You're punishing yourself because a whimsical God let you live. You think you've failed the dead, failed to protect them and keep them alive and bring them back home again. But no one could have done that, Ian. Don't you see? No one could have brought all of them through!
Charles Todd (A Cold Treachery (Inspector Ian Rutledge, #7))
Gamache knew people were like homes. Some were cheerful and bright, some gloomy. Some could look good on the outside but feel wretched on the interior. And some of the least attractive homes, from the outside, were kindly and warm inside. He also knew the first few rooms were for public consumption. It was only in going deeper that he’d find the reality. And finally, inevitably, there was the last room, the one we keep locked, and bolted and barred, even from ourselves. Especially from ourselves. It
Louise Penny (The Cruelest Month (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache, #3))
History Eraser I got drunk and fell asleep atop the sheets but luckily i left the heater on. And in my dreams i wrote the best song that i've ever written...can't remember how it goes. I stayed drunk and fell awake and i was cycling on a plane and far away i heard you say you liked me. We drifted to a party -- cool. The people went to arty school. They made their paints by mixing acid wash and lemonade In my brain I re-arrange the letters on the page to spell your name I found an ezra pound and made a bet that if i found a cigarette i'd drop it all and marry you. Just then a song comes on: "you can't always get what you want" -- the rolling stones, oh woe is we, the irony! The stones became the moss and once all inhibitions lost, the hipsters made a mission to the farm. We drove by tractor there, the yellow straw replaced our hair, we laced the dairy river with the cream of sweet vermouth. In my brain I re-arrange the letters on the page to spell your name You said "we only live once" so we touched a little tongue, and instantly i wanted to... I lost my train of thought and jumped aboard the Epping as the doors were slowly closing on the world. I touched on and off and rubbed my arm up against yours and still the inspector inspected me. The lady in the roof was living proof that nothing really ever is exactly as it seems. In my brain I re-arrange the letters on the page to spell your name We caught the river boat downstream and ended up beside a team of angry footballers. I fed the ducks some krill then we were sucked against our will into the welcome doors of the casino. We drank green margaritas, danced with sweet senoritas, and we all went home as winners of a kind. You said "i guarantee we'll have more fun, drink till the moon becomes the sun, and in the taxi home i'll sing you a triffids song!" In my brain I re-arrange the letters on the page to spell your name
Courtney Barnett
Everything about this project was dark alley, cloak and dagger. Even the way they financed the operation was highly unconventional: using secret contingency funds, they back-doored payment to Lockheed by writing personal checks to Kelly for more than a million bucks as start-up costs. The checks arrived by regular mail at his Encino home, which had to be the wildest government payout in history. Johnson could have absconded with the dough and taken off on a one-way ticket to Tahiti. He banked the funds through a phony company called “C & J Engineering,” the “C & J” standing for Clarence Johnson. Even our drawings bore the logo “C & J”—the word “Lockheed” never appeared. We used a mail drop out at Sunland, a remote locale in the San Fernando Valley, for suppliers to send us parts. The local postmaster got curious about all the crates and boxes piling up in his bins and looked up “C & J” in the phone book and, of course, found nothing. So he decided to have one of his inspectors follow our unmarked van as it traveled back to Burbank. Our security people nabbed him just outside the plant and had him signing national security secrecy forms until he pleaded writer’s cramp.
Ben R. Rich (Skunk Works: A Personal Memoir of My Years of Lockheed)
From his corner office on the ground floor of the St. Cyril station house, Inspector Dick has a fine view of the parking lot. Six Dumpsters plated and hooped like iron maidens against bears. Beyond the Dumpsters a subalpine meadow, and then the snow¬ capped ghetto wall that keeps the Jews at bay. Dick is slouched against the back of his two-thirds-scale desk chair, arms crossed, chin sunk to his chest, star¬ing out the casement window. Not at the mountains or the meadow, grayish green in the late light, tufted with wisps of fog, or even at the armored Dumpsters. His gaze travels no farther than the parking lot—no farther than his 1961 Royal Enfield Crusader. Lands¬man recognizes the expression on Dick's face. It's the expression that goes with the feeling Landsman gets when he looks at his Chevelle Super Sport, or at the face of Bina Gelbfish. The face of a man who feels he was born into the wrong world. A mistake has been made; he is not where he belongs. Every so often he feels his heart catch, like a kite on a telephone wire, on something that seems to promise him a home in the world or a means of getting there. An American car manufactured in his far-off boyhood, say, or a motor¬cycle that once belonged to the future king of England, or the face of a woman worthier than himself of being loved.
Michael Chabon (The Yiddish Policemen's Union)
A knock at the enameled door of the carriage altered them to the presence of a porter and a platform inspector just outside. Sebastian looked up and handed the baby back to Evie. He went to speak to the men. After a minute or two, he came back from the threshold with a basket. Looking both perturbed and amused, he brought it to Phoebe. “This was delivered to the station for you.” “Just now?” Phoebe asked with a nonplussed laugh. “Why, I believe it’s Ernestine’s mending basket! Don’t say the Ravenels went to the trouble of sending someone all the way to Alton to return it?” “It’s not empty,” her father said. As he set the basket in her lap, it quivered and rustled, and a blood-curdling yowl emerged. Astonished, Phoebe fumbled with the latch on the lid and opened it. The black cat sprang out and crawled frantically up her front, clinging to her shoulder with such ferocity that nothing could have detached her claws. “Galoshes!” Justin exclaimed, hurrying over to her. “Gosh-gosh!” Stephen cried in excitement. Phoebe stroked the frantic cat and tried to calm her. “Galoshes, how . . . why are you . . . oh, this is Mr. Ravenel’s doing! I’m going to murder him. You poor little thing.” Justin came to stand beside her, running his hands over the dusty, bedraggled feline. “Are we going to keep her now, Mama?” “I don’t think we have a choice,” Phoebe said distractedly. “Ivo, will you go with Justin to the dining compartment, and fetch her some food and water?” The two boys dashed off immediately. “Why has he done this?” Phoebe fretted. “He probably couldn’t make her stay at the barn, either. But she’s not meant to be a pet. She’s sure to run off as soon as we reach home.” Resuming his seat next to Evie, Sebastian said dryly, “Redbird, I doubt that creature will stray more than an arm’s length from you.” Discovering a note in the mending basket, Phoebe plucked it out and unfolded it. She instantly recognized West’s handwriting. Unemployed Feline Seeking Household Position To Whom It May Concern, I hereby offer my services as an experienced mouser and personal companion. References from a reputable family to be provided upon request. Willing to accept room and board in lieu of pay. Indoor lodgings preferred. Your servant, Galoshes the Cat Glancing up from the note, Phoebe found her parents’ questioning gazes on her. “Job application,” she explained sourly. “From the cat.” “How charming,” Seraphina exclaimed, reading over her shoulder. “‘Personal companion,’ my foot,” Phoebe muttered. “This is a semi-feral animal who has lived in outbuildings and fed on vermin.” “I wonder,” Seraphina said thoughtfully. “If she were truly feral, she wouldn’t want any contact with humans. With time and patience, she might become domesticated.” Phoebe rolled her eyes. “It seems we’ll find out.” The boys returned from the dining car with a bowl of water and a tray of refreshments. Galoshes descended to the floor long enough to devour a boiled egg, an anchovy canapé, and a spoonful of black caviar from a silver dish on ice. Licking her lips and purring, the cat jumped back into Phoebe’s lap and curled up with a sigh.
Lisa Kleypas (Devil's Daughter (The Ravenels, #5))
guilty one. Yet, damn it, it didn’t fit. ‘No. He was far too relaxed in the public meeting. His panic didn’t kick in until later. No. If it’d been him he’d have been more evasive earlier. He has very little skill at hiding how he’s feeling.’ Gamache agreed. ‘Scratch Mr Croft. How about Suzanne Croft?’ ‘Well, she could have done it. She clearly knew about the bow and arrow during the public meeting, and she destroyed the arrow and would have chucked the bow in the furnace if she’d had time. But, again, it doesn’t fit.’ ‘If she killed Jane Neal she’d have destroyed the arrow and the bow long before now,’ said Nichol, leaning into the group. ‘She’d have gone right home and burned the whole lot. Why wait until they know the police are about to arrive?’ ‘You’re right,’ said Gamache, surprised and pleased. ‘Go on.’ ‘OK. Suppose it’s Philippe. He’s fourteen, right? This is an old bow, not as powerful as the newer ones. Doesn’t take as much strength. So he takes the old wooden bow and the old wooden arrows and he heads off to hunt. But he shoots Miss Neal by mistake. He picks up his arrow and runs back home. But
Louise Penny (Still Life (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #1))
There always seemed to be more sky in Scotland than in England, a different sky. Vast and empty, as if God weren’t at home.
Charles Todd (Legacy Of The Dead (Inspector Ian Rutledge, #4))
As he opened the door to the building, he recognized the smell even through his mask. He didn’t describe to Reine-Marie in detail what he’d found. But he’d told her enough, and she’d seen the subsequent news reports to know that all had been as far from well as it was possible to get. The most vulnerable. The weak. The infirm. Those who could not care for themselves had been abandoned. Left to die. And die they had. Armand had been the first in and last out. Staying with each man and woman, each body, until all had been removed. He’d immediately sent teams to other nursing homes, until all of them had been checked. And all the horrors uncovered. It was a shame he’d carry all his life. Not that he himself had abandoned these people, but that Québec had. Quebeckers had. And he, as a senior police officer, hadn’t realized sooner that this could happen in a pandemic. That this could ever happen. Here. Here.
Louise Penny (The Madness of Crowds (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache, #17))
His theory is that life is loss,’ said Myrna after a moment. ‘Loss of parents, loss of loves, loss of jobs. So we have to find a higher meaning in our lives than these things and people. Otherwise we’ll lose ourselves.’ ‘What do you think of that?’ ‘I think he’s right. I was a psychologist in Montreal before coming here a few years ago. Most of the people came through my door because of a crisis in their lives, and most of those crises boiled down to loss. Loss of a marriage or an important relationship. Loss of security. A job, a home, a parent. Something drove them to ask for help and to look deep inside themselves. And the catalyst was often change and loss.
Louise Penny (Still Life (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #1))
Homes, Gamache knew, were a self-portrait. A person’s choice of color, furnishing, pictures. Every touch revealed the individual. God, or the Devil, was in the details. And so was the human. Was it dirty, messy, obsessively clean? Were the decorations chosen to impress, or were they a hodgepodge of personal history? Was the space cluttered or clear? He felt a thrill every time he entered a home during an investigation.
Louise Penny (Still Life (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #1))
A poem begins as a lump in the throat. A sense of wrong,” Gamache continued the quote. “A homesickness, a lovesickness.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
Was the final fear that, in losing his fears, he would also lose his joy?
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
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Julie wasn’t as cheery, not as bright as before she’d joined them. They’d tarnished her.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
Henri became distracted by a fluttering leaf, or a black fly, or the voices in his head. The dog would race after the ball, then stop and stare into thin air, moving his gigantic satellite ears this way and that. Honing in on some message. Not tense, but quizzical. It was, Gamache recognized, the way most people listened when they heard on the wind the wisps of a particularly beloved piece of music. Or a familiar voice from far away.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
Like Felicity they methodically checked the house office, safe and family bank account details and financial affairs. Angelina then had Inspector Mick bug the boys’ homes, cars and offices and with the information she acquired came knowledge and contacts. She wrote a programme called listen, it saved all conversations digitally and converted it to text into a computer file in a remote location not traceable to her or anybody at 3WW but it recorded all his illicit dealings and it gave her valuable information. She hacked into their individual MIS computer systems and sent spyware via e-mail called virus protection free download and once opened it went through their c drive, all files on their computers, and copied all files to a ip address of a remote computer of Angelina’s request, in a phantom company named Borrow. All data was heavily encrypted and deleted after access and storage was onto an external hard drive storage box, deleting the electronic footpath. The spyware recorded their strokes on the keyboard and Angelina was able to secure even their banking pins and passwords and all their computer passwords. She had a brilliant computer mind, wasted in librarianship
Annette J. Dunlea
Hello. Special Infirmary, please.’ He was surprised to hear Journe’s voice. The professor had turned out in person. ‘Have you had time to examine my customer? What do you think of him?’ A clear reply would have relieved him somewhat, but old Journe was not a man to provide clear answers. He launched into a long speech at the other end of the line, full of technical terms, the upshot of which was that it was 60 per cent likely that Lagrange was play-acting, but unless he slipped up, it might be a few weeks before they would be able to prove this scientifically. ‘Is Doctor Pardon still there?’ ‘He’s about to leave.’ ‘What’s Lagrange doing now?’ ‘He’s quite meek and mild. He allowed himself to be put to bed, and started talking to the nurse in a childish voice. He burst into tears and told her people had threatened to hit him, that everyone was against him, and it had been like this all his life.’ ‘Can I see him tomorrow?’ ‘Yes, whenever you like.’ ‘I’d just like a quick word with Pardon.’ And to the latter: ‘So, what do you think?’ ‘Nothing new to report. I’m not entirely of the same mind as the professor, but he’s more competent than me, and it’s years since I practised psychiatry.’ ‘But you have your own idea?’ ‘I’d prefer to wait a few hours before talking about it. The case is too serious to give a snap judgement. Aren’t you going home to bed now?’ ‘Not yet. I don’t think I’ll be getting any sleep tonight.
Georges Simenon (Maigret's Revolver: Inspector Maigret #40)
The Treasury Department’s inspector general scrutinized the trip because it was planned for August 21, 2018, the day of the total solar eclipse, and Ft. Knox happened to be in the path of totality. Ft. Knox is home to the government’s largest gold stockpile, which Mnuchin said was the reason for the trip. The inspector general conducted
Tim Devine (Days of Trump: The Definitive Chronology of the 45th President of the United States)
laneway
Peter Robinson (Close To Home (Inspector Banks, #13))
Comment allez-vous?” asked Gamache, losing his hold on the wild eye. “I’m doing well, merci. You?
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
Briar Patch women would face, lives were at risk, and the pursuit of justice would have to come first. She finished her drink and glanced at the clock. ‘God! Is that the time? I must get home. Thanks for the drink, and thanks for helping me, Spooks. I appreciate it. Now I have to go. Don’t forget to put your candle back in the window.’ CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE With a showman’s flourish, Rory burst into the office and deposited a pile of folders and reports on Nikki’s desk. ‘Results, Nikki! Incontrovertible. Listen to this. Millicent Cartwright’s dental records match those of Ellen McDonald from Dunedin, South Island. Same woman. And your nice new detective, Ben, is it, has a fairly recent photograph of her, sent by the New Zealand police. Same face as the cadaver in my mortuary.’ Rory took the coffee Joseph handed him. ‘Now, how she died.’ He paused. ‘In exactly the same manner as Louise Lawson. There’s a head injury, not enough to kill her, but enough to knock her out, and she had almost identical lacerations on her arms, wrists, neck and thighs. There is no doubt that she died from a massive loss of blood.’ ‘And as Millicent Cartwright is connected to the Hammond case and Louise to the Prospero case, we have our connection!’ Nikki felt a surge of elation. It was a single killer. ‘Ah, now hold on, dear Detective Inspector, the good professor has yet to finish.’ Nikki looked at Rory. ‘Go on, and don’t make it bad news, please.’ ‘Far from it. Listen to this. I was having a brief discussion with one of my colleagues who conducted the PM on your suicide case, George Ackroyd. We were just admiring the excellent job he did on crushing the hyoid bone in his throat, when I noticed something.’ He took a slow sip of coffee. ‘It’s fortuitous that I have such a good eye for colour because there it was, Midnight Orchid! On his left cheek! Just the tiniest dab, but I got a match!’ Nikki stared at him. ‘So Louise’s last visitor also kissed George?’ ‘Well, that brand of lipstick is not exactly rare. But it would seem so.’ ‘Then did he actually kill himself? Or was it made to look that way?’ ‘It was suicide, without a doubt. Everything about the crime scene indicates that he was alone when he died, and my findings discount any outside interference. It’s what, or who, drove him to it that you need to prove.’ ‘Avril Hammond.
Joy Ellis (Buried on the Fens (DI Nikki Galena, #7))
home each evening. Exhausted. Bewildered by
Louise Penny (The Madness of Crowds (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache, #17))
Gamache knew people were like homes. Some were cheerful and bright, some gloomy. Some could look good on the outside but feel wretched on the interior. And some of the least attractive homes, from the outside, were kindly and warm inside. He also knew the first few rooms were for public consumption. It was only in going deeper that he’d find the reality. And finally, inevitably, there was the last room, the one we keep locked, and bolted and barred, even from ourselves. Especially from ourselves. It was that room Gamache hunted in every murder investigation. There the secrets were kept. There the monsters waited.
Louise Penny (The Cruelest Month (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache, #3))
Sneak home and pray you’ll never know / the hell where youth and laughter go.
Louise Penny (The Madness of Crowds (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache, #17))
It was messy. Unruly. Risky. Scary. So much could go wrong. Failure was always close at hand. But so was brilliance.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
She held a worn copy of Brother Albert’s book, Loss. Gamache shook his head and figured it probably wasn’t the cheeriest of reads. She turned it over in her huge hands and seemed to caress it. ‘His theory is that life is loss,’ said Myrna after a moment. ‘Loss of parents, loss of loves, loss of jobs. So we have to find a higher meaning in our lives than these things and people. Otherwise we’ll lose ourselves.’ ‘What do you think of that?’ ‘I think he’s right. I was a psychologist in Montreal before coming here a few years ago. Most of the people came through my door because of a crisis in their lives, and most of those crises boiled down to loss. Loss of a marriage or an important relationship. Loss of security. A job, a home, a parent. Something drove them to ask for help and to look deep inside themselves. And the catalyst was often change and loss.’ ‘Are they the same thing?’ ‘For someone not well skilled at adapting they can be.’ ‘Loss of control?’ ‘That’s a huge one, of course. Most of us are great with change, as long as it was our idea. But change imposed from the outside can send some people into a tailspin. I think Brother Albert hit it on the head. Life is loss. But out of that, as the book stresses, comes freedom. If we can accept that nothing is permanent, and change is inevitable, if we can adapt, then we’re going to be happier people.’ ‘What brought you here? Loss?’ ‘That’s hardly fair, Chief Inspector, now you’ve got me. Yes. But not in a conventional way, since of course I always have to be special and different.’ Myrna put back her head and laughed at herself. ‘I lost sympathy with many of my patients. After twenty-five years of listening to their complaints I finally snapped. I woke up one morning bent out of shape about this client who was forty-three but acting sixteen. Every week he’d come with the same complaints, “Someone hurt me. Life is
Louise Penny (Still Life (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #1))
Я сижу, где посажена, созданная из камня и желаемого, выданного за действительное. Будто божество, убивающее ради удовольствия, может и исцелять
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache, #10))
- Пойми меня правильно, я верю в то, что голова - вещь полезная. Но не нужно проводить там слишком много времени. В голове обитает страх. А мужество живёт в сердце. Задача состоит в том, чтобы добраться из головы в сердце. - А между сердцем и головой - комок в горле.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache, #10))
That was why she was happy. He now knew that happiness and kindness went together. There was not one without the other. For Jean-Guy it was a struggle. For Annie it seemed natural.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
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.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
Muses work all day long,” said Ruth. “And then at night get together and dance.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
I don’t know about normal human beings, but for alcoholics it’s lethal. A secret that rotten will drive you to drink. And the drink will drive you to your grave. But not before it steals everything from you. Your loved ones, your job, your home. Your dignity. And finally, your life.
Louise Penny (A Trick of the Light (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #7))
Or worse, dwell in it. Take up residence in the tragedies, the pain. The hurt. To make a home in hell.
Louise Penny (Kingdom of the Blind (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache, #14))
Agatha Christie’s first Miss Marple novel, Murder at the Vicarage, published in 1930, even included maps of the nameless village where a retired colonel is murdered in the study. The abundance of 1930s thrillers in which colonels are done to death in picturesque hamlets – the ‘Mayhem Parva’ school of writing as Colin Watson puts it – have a very particular kind of village in mind. It is in the Home Counties, ‘where there’s a church, a village inn, very handy for the odd Scotland Yard inspector and his man who come to stay for the regularly recurring crimes’.
Jeremy Paxman (The English: A Portrait of a People)
Armand Gamache looked across to the deep green midsummer forest and the mountains that rolled into eternity. Then his eyes dropped to the village in the valley below them, as though held in the palm of an ancient hand. A stigmata in the Québec countryside. Not a wound, but a wonder.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
He still arrested them, of course. But he’d come to agree with Sister Prejean that no one was as bad as the worst thing they’d done.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
This’s the Admiral’s Suite? There must be a mistake,” said Chartrand, trying to turn around without getting engaged to either man.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
Highway 362 hugged the cliffs and followed the St. Lawrence. And just before the village of Les Éboulements, she pulled over.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
The simple fact of the matter is that the Home Secretary has asked us to investigate what our Quaker friend chooses to call—for some strange reason of his own—“child prostitution”. And whatever our personal feelings, it certainly won’t damage our prospects of promotion if we come up with the result he desires.
Sally Spencer (Blackstone and the Heart of Darkness (Inspector Sam Blackstone #6))
As she got closer, Clara Morrow saw Gamache do it again. He took off his half-moon reading glasses, then
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
I said I was only going to recite them once, and he could do with them as he wished.” Armand Gamache lowered his fork to his plate and listened. “I don’t know. I was wrong. I’m sorry.” Lacoste recited them slowly, lifting a finger to count them off. “I need help,” the Chief said, completing the statements.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
seen the best. Often in the same person.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
By offering a second chance. One last chance. Don’t get me wrong, I believe in using your head. But not in spending too much time in there. Fear lives in the head. And courage lives in the heart. The job is to get from one to the other.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
he walked back home, pausing to marvel at the stars. Many of which no longer existed. Just their light." Chapter 10 · Page 87 · Location 1533
Louise Penny (A Great Reckoning (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache, #12))
I used to dream I’d saved my parents,’ he said, remembering the little boy looking out the living-room window, leaning over the back of the sofa, resting his cheek on the nubbly fabric. Sometimes, when the winter wind blew, he could still feel it rough against his cheek. Whenever his parents went out for dinner he’d wait, looking into the night for the headlights. And every night they came home. Except one.
Louise Penny (A Fatal Grace (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache, #2))
Was it too much? Tomorrow at this time, would they all be arrested? Would they all still be alive? When she left to go home to Joan that evening, would a cobrador fall into step behind her, down the long, stifling corridor? For doing too much? For doing too little? She wished now she hadn’t invited them into her chambers. Hadn’t forced the truth, and the lies, from them. She wished she could hide in happy ignorance. Go home to beer and burgers. The one question the Chief Superintendent hadn’t answered was who the defendant really was. And how the murder of Katie Evans was connected to all this. But she knew she’d find out
Louise Penny (Glass Houses (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache, #13))
What are you planning to tell your mother about all this when you get home, Andrew?” “I don’t see any need to tell her anything.” “You don’t? What do you say when she asks where you’ve been all day?” “Why,” said Sara cheerfully, “we were on a boat trip on the canal. It was very interesting and instructive. We learned something about dustmen and dust yards and about Indian religions. But, best of all, we met a police officer from India who turned out to be a good friend of Beasley’s as well as the inspector’s and whom he’ll almost certainly invite to dinner.” “Isn’t there a folk saying about teaching one’s grandmother to suck eggs?” said Captain Ross with a smile. “There is,” said Wyatt. “And the interesting part of it is that every word of what she said is true.
Robert Newman (The Case of the Indian Curse)
I have left a part of me wherever I have lain my head, including my youth. What remains will be satisfied to go home.
Charles Todd (A False Mirror (Inspector Ian Rutledge, #9))
BANKS ENJOYED THE DRIVE TO LEEDS. THE WEATHER WAS fine, the traffic not too horrendous, and the iPod shuffle treated him to a truly random medley of David Crosby, John Cale, Pentangle and Grinderman, among others. A mild beer hangover from Kev Templeton’s wake hammered away insistently in the back of his head, muffled by extra-strength aspirin and plenty of water. At least he had had the sense to avoid spirits and sleep on Hatchley’s sofa, though the children had awoken him at some ungodly hour of the morning. Annie had gone home early and said she would be coming back to Eastvale sometime to talk to Elizabeth Wallace. Banks and Annie planned to meet for a late lunch and compare notes. Julia
Peter Robinson (Friend Of The Devil (Inspector Banks, #17))
Last time I was on the welcome Wagon, I was holding some guy by the balls for 15 minutes while the inspector explained why should leave (Birmingham) and go home... It were really painful. I bet it was. 'Yeah I got terrible cramp in me fingers, but he were very attentive.
Jim McGrath (A Death in Winter: 1963)
Right now nobody really knows where to go from here. Everyone is stuck in the tunnel vision called democracy. The only 'solution' that people can think of is ‘more democracy’, i.e. more government intervention. Are young people drinking too much alcohol? Raise the drinking age! Are the chronically ill neglected in nursing homes? Send in more government inspectors! Is there a lack of innovation? Install a government Innovation Board! Do children learn too little at school? Mandate more tests! Is crime on the increase? Set up a new government department! Regulate, forbid, force, discourage, check, inspect, pamper, reform and, above all, throw money at the problem. And what if it all won’t work? Eventually the call for a Great Leader will be heard, a strong man to put an end to all the cackling and will deliver Law and Order. There is a certain logic to this. If everything needs to be regulated by the State, then why not have it done properly by a benevolent dictator? Away with the endless dithering, the indecisiveness, the quarreling, the inefficiency. But this would be a devil’s bargain. We would get law and order, that’s true. But the price would be an end to freedom, dynamism and growth.
Karel Beckman (Beyond Democracy: Why democracy does not lead to solidarity, prosperity and liberty but to social conflict, runaway spending and a tyrannical government)
him. No doubt Inspector Owen would agree that the one safe thing for a murderer to do was to wash his hands and go home to tea; and yet, oddly enough, that was the one thing they never did seem capable of doing.
E.R. Punshon (The Dark Garden (The Bobby Owen Mysteries, #16))
Home as an allegory for self. A self-portrait of our choices. And our blind spots.
Louise Penny (Still Life (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #1))
He wasn't addicted to pain, to panic, but he might be addicted to the bliss of having them stop. The mind, he knew, really was its own place.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache, #10))
You mean when you walked away?’ ‘No. When he was charged we all signed it. We agreed not to talk about this case. About the deaths. About what we knew. If you’re here just to find out about that then you’re wasting your time. You’re not press, are you? You know impersonating the police is a criminal offence, right?’ ‘Blimey, Dennis! Of course I do. I’m not here to lie to you, mate. Let me tell you what’s happened here — the way I see it at least. I got a call yesterday from my chief inspector. I was at home. He tells me that he needs me to do a prison visit to get a feel for a prisoner as part of working out the influence he might have on other prisoners. I come out from the prison and give him a call, and he suggests I come up here to learn a bit more about him. I get no guidance on how that’s supposed to happen, who
Charlie Gallagher (Her Last Breath (Langthorne #7))
There are apparently few limitations either of time or space on where the psyche might journey, and only the customs inspector employed by our own inhibitions restricts what it might bring back when it reenters the home country of everyday consciousness.
Tom Robbins (Jitterbug Perfume)
driver’s side opened, and someone got in and sat down. He didn’t turn to see who it was, because by this point he was unable to take his eyes off the hospital entrance. “I went to Marinella to look for you,” said Fazio, “but you weren’t there. Then I realized you’d be here, and so I came.” Montalbano didn’t answer. Half an hour later, he saw Garrufo come out, bent over, face in his hands, weeping. “Take me home,” he said to Fazio. He leaned his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes, at last.   Click here for more books by this author.
Andrea Camilleri (The Age of Doubt (Inspector Montalbano #14))
he
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
home. Recognizing him, she said this before he
Ruth Rendell (The Babes In The Wood (Inspector Wexford #19))
Crowding in many London districts was almost unimaginable. In St. Giles, the worst of London’s rookeries—scene of William Hogarth’s famous engraving Gin Lane—fifty-four thousand people crowded into just a few streets. By one count, eleven hundred people lived in twenty-seven houses along one alley; that is more than forty people per dwelling. In Spitalfields, farther east, inspectors found sixty-three people living in a single house. The house had nine beds—one for every seven occupants. A new word, of unknown provenance, sprang into being to describe such neighborhoods: slums.
Bill Bryson (At Home: A Short History of Private Life)
ARTHUR WEASLEY BLOOD STATUS: Pureblood, but with unacceptable pro-Muggle leanings. Known member of the Order of the Phoenix. FAMILY: Wife (pureblood), seven children, two youngest at Hogwarts. NB: Youngest son currently at home, seriously ill, Ministry inspectors have confirmed. SECURITY STATUS: TRACKED. All movements are being monitored. Strong likelihood Undesirable
J.K. Rowling (Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (Harry Potter, #7))
In the small, neat back bedroom Ari Nikolev watched as his daughter packed her suitcase with the dreariest, drabbest clothes in her closet. At his suggestion. ‘I know men,’ he’d said, when she’d protested. ‘But men won’t find me attractive in these.’ She’d jabbed her finger at the pile of clothes. ‘I thought you said you wanted Gamache to like me.’ ‘Not to date. Believe me, he’ll like you in those.’ As she turned to find her toiletry bag he slipped a couple of butterscotch candies into the suitcase, where she’d find them that night. And think of him. And with any luck never realize he had his own little secret. There was no Uncle Saul. No slaughter at the hands of the communists. No noble and valiant flight across the frontier. He’d made all that up years ago to shut up his wife’s relatives camped in their home. It was his lifeboat, made of words, which had kept him afloat on their sea of misery and suffering. Genuine suffering. Even he could admit that. But he’d needed his own stories of heroics and survival. And so, after helping to conceive little Angelina and then Yvette, he’d conceived Uncle Saul. Whose job it was to save the family, and who had failed. Saul’s spectacular fall from grace had cost Ari his entire fictional family. He knew he should tell Yvette. Knew that what had started as his own life raft had become an anchor for his little girl. But she worshipped him, and Ari Nikolev craved that
Louise Penny (A Fatal Grace (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache, #2))
Ann Street was reckoned by many to be the most beautiful terrace in the city. Tucked away between Queensferry Road and Stockbridge, its two elegant facing rows of Georgian homes were separated by a narrow roadway constructed of traditional setts. The front gardens were immaculate, the black metal railings glossy, the lamp posts harking back to a more elegant age.
Ian Rankin (Rather Be the Devil (Inspector Rebus #21))
eventually that pain turned to bitterness, and the bitterness turned to anger, and the anger became rage. Until that rage became madness.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
Al’s mouth formed the beginning of a word. Why, perhaps. Or, what. But it died there. And Gamache saw Laurent’s father pack up his home, take all his possessions, and move. To that other world. Where nine-year-old boys were killed. A world where nine-year-old boys were murdered. Armand Gamache was the moving man, the ferryman, who took him there. And once across there was no going back.
Louise Penny (The Nature of the Beast (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #11))
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Home Inspection in Jacksonville
Home Inspection in Jacksonville Home Inspection in Jacksonville, give exhaustive inspection administrations to homes and properties. Homebuyers who need to understand the condition of the property before making the final decision are asked to design an inspection.Inside and Out Property Inspectors moreover enables home dealers to distinguish potential issues preceding listing their properties accessible to be acquired. You can likewise visit our site : #HomeInspectioninJacksonville
HomeInspectioninJacksonville
I wouldn’t drink too much Pernod if I were you, Tom. Have a cup of tea instead.’ His wife seemed to read his thoughts. ‘Too much of it isn’t good for you. They passed a law in France against absinthe drinking because it drove people mad and was bad for the birth-rate, and then people started drinking Pernod, which is very potent if you take too much. I heard that a man who’d drunk seven Pernods the other week, undressed himself stark naked on the promenade here, and thought he was at home in his bedroom. When the gendarme interfered the man accused him of stealing his pyjamas.’ ‘Good Lord! Who’s been educating you?’ ‘It was a man I met in the Post Office while you were in Cannes.
George Bellairs (Death in Room Five (The Inspector Littlejohn Mysteries Book 8))
To neither of his two commissariats did he give the sustained and imaginative direction that agencies so innovative in design especially called for. The notion of the worker-peasant inspectorate as essentially a public force against “bureaucratism” came from Lenin, and Stalin never seems to have felt at home with
Robert C. Tucker (Stalin as Revolutionary: A Study in History and Personality, 1879-1929)
Was it the age of my innocence, Or was it the lost Land of Oz? Was it only a foolish illusion, The summer that never was?
Peter Robinson (Close To Home (Inspector Banks, #13))
Reine-Marie put her head back and laughed. Armand smiled, then turned full circle. His gaze took in the dark forests and luminous homes, the three huge pines and the soft snow falling from the sky, as though the Heavens had opened, and all the angels were joining them. Here. Here. “Dad.” Armand turned.
Louise Penny (All the Devils Are Here (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache, #16))
You couldn’t get to a certain age without attracting a lot of clutter. But why did it always have to get in the way? Why couldn’t you just shrug it off and get on with life? Why was misery so easy to embrace and joy so bloody elusive?
Peter Robinson (Close To Home (Inspector Banks, #13))
That in the midst of your nightmare, the final one, a kind lion will pick your soul up gently by the nape of the neck, Home. Home. He wanted to go home. And sit by the fire. And listen to their friends talking and laughing. To hold Reine-Marie’s hand and watch their grandchildren play. And caress you into darkness and paradise.
Louise Penny (All the Devils Are Here (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache, #16))
I made them comfortable and was always glad to accommodate them in my ’umble home.’ The fire was scorching, the air stuffy and Mrs Buckley appalling. Cromwell wanted to get it over and be off. One almost expected the street door to bang, footsteps to sound along the passage, and Uriah Heep to fling open the door, kiss Mrs Buckley and say their ’ome was very ’umble…
George Bellairs (Dead March for Penelope Blow (The Inspector Littlejohn Mysteries Book 4))
One night back in the 1970s, I was driving home to my quarters at Fort Campbell, Kentucky, where I had commanded the 2nd Brigade of the 101st Airborne Division for about a year, when I saw in the dark a soldier walking along the road heading for the gate. He probably lived with his wife in the trailer park just outside the gate. I stopped and offered him a ride. “Why are you going home so late?” I asked him as we drove along. “My buddies and I’ve been working hard to get ready for an inspector general inspection coming up,” he answered. Then he looked at me. “Sir, who are you?” he asked. “I’m your brigade commander,” I told him, taken aback. “How long have you been in command?” he asked. “Over a year,” I said. “Is it a good job?” he asked. “Yes, great,” I replied. Jeez, after a year of being all over the brigade area, here is a soldier who doesn’t recognize me. Something’s wrong. “How do you think you guys will do in the inspection?” I then asked. “We’ll do great,” he answered. “We’ve been working hard for weeks, and my captain, lieutenants, and sergeants have been pushing us. They’ve been telling us how important the inspection is; they’ve been working just as hard as we have.” Then he said simply, “We’re not going to let them down.
Colin Powell (It Worked for Me: In Life and Leadership)
and
Ngaio Marsh (Inspector Alleyn 3-Book Collection 1: A Man Lay Dead, Enter a Murderer, The Nursing Home Murder (The Ngaio Marsh Collection))
He’d seen Gamache go into homes, warehouses, forests where they knew heavily
Louise Penny (All the Devils Are Here (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache, #16))
Fool, he told himself. He had been looking for Keith Rothwell in Robert Calvert’s flat. But he wasn’t there. He wasn’t anywhere; he was just a slab of chilled meat waiting for a man with his collar on the wrong way around to chant a few meaningless words that might just ease the living’s fear of death until the next time it touched too close to home for comfort.
Peter Robinson (Final Account (Inspector Banks, #7))
I went to bed wearing my oldest, most faded flannel shirt, the bra that had looked all right in the catalog but was obviously an escapee from a downmarket nursing home when it arrived, white cotton panties that had had pansies on them about seven hundred washings ago and were now a kind of mottled gray, and the jeans I usually wore for housecleaning or raking Yolande’s garden because they were too shabby for work even if I never came out of the bakery. Food inspector arrest-on-sight jeans. Oh, and fuzzy green plaid socks. It was a cool night for summer. Relatively. I lay down on top of the bedspread. And slept through till the alarm at three-forty-five. He hadn’t come. T
Robin McKinley (Sunshine)
Wyatt arrived at the house shortly after Sara and Andrew got home. They were in the sitting room with Verna when his hansom drew up outside. Even before Matson opened the door and they heard his voice, Verna seemed to know who it was. She had been sober, quiet. But now her face lit up and there was a glow about her, a warmth in her eyes, that Andrew had not often seen there before. “My dear,” she said when he came in. “How are you?” he said, going directly to her and taking her hands. They remained that way for a moment, he standing in front of her and holding her hands and Verna staring up at him. At first both of them seemed content with that, merely looking at one another. Then Verna smiled. “Is that all the greeting I get?” she asked. “Would anything more be proper?” “Quite proper.” Bending down, Wyatt kissed her and again they looked long and searchingly at one another before he straightened up. “Good evening, Sara. Good evening, Andrew,” he said with deliberately excessive formality. “I trust you are both well.” “We are,” said Sara, smiling. “You’re staying for dinner, aren’t you?” said Verna. “I’d very much like to.” “Good.” She rang for Matson, asked him to tell Mrs. Simmonds that, as they had hoped, Inspector Wyatt would be staying for dinner.
Robert Newman (The Case of the Murdered Players)
many people do not usually take the time to think about the foundation upon which they are building their lives. When it comes to buying a house, I see that people care a great deal about the foundations of the property they are about to buy. My dad is a realtor, and before he sells a house, before people trust him with the investment of hundreds of thousands of their dollars, he recommends the buyers hire a home inspector to carefully check the structural soundness of the house, and most importantly, the foundation upon which the potential investment is built. My dad would tell you that, no matter how beautiful or decorated it may be, without a strong foundation; it is doomed. If the foundation is cracked or unstable in any way, the house needs to be torn down and rebuilt on a proper base.
Jon Morrison (Clear Minds & Dirty Feet: A Reason to Hope, a Message to Share)
Peter’s a lucky man,” he said. “Except in one respect. He doesn’t seem to know how lucky he is.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
We love life, thought Reine-Marie as she watched Ruth and Rosa sitting side by side, not because we are used to living, but because we are used to loving.
Louise Penny (The Long Way Home (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #10))
While Diana and her mother started planning guest lists, wardrobe requirements and the other details for the wedding of the year, the media vainly attempted to discover her hiding-place. The one man who did know was the Prince of Wales. As the days passed, Diana pined for her Prince and yet he never telephoned. She excused his silence as due to the pressure of his royal duties. Finally she called him only to find that he was not in his apartment at Buckingham Palace. It was only after she called him that he telephoned her. Soothed by that solitary telephone call, Diana’s ruffled pride was momentarily mollified when she returned to Coleherne Court. There was a knock on the door and a member of the Prince’s staff appeared with a large bouquet of flowers. However there was no note from her future husband and she concluded sadly that it was simply a tactful gesture by his office. These concerns were forgotten a few days later when Diana rose at dawn and travelled to the Lambourn home of Nick Gaselee, Charles’s trainer, to watch him ride his horse, Allibar. As she and his detective observed the Prince put the horse through its paces on the gallops Diana was seized by another premonition of disaster. She said that Allibar was going to have a heart attack and die. Within seconds of her uttering those words, 11-year-old Allibar reared its head back and collapsed to the ground with a massive coronary. Diana leapt out of the Land Rover and raced to Charles’s side. There was nothing anyone could do. The couple stayed with the horse until a vet officially certified its death and then, to avoid waiting photographers, Diana left the Gaselees in the back of the Land Rover with a coat over her head. It was a miserable moment but there was little time to reflect on the tragedy. The inexorable demands of royal duty took Prince Charles on to wales, leaving Diana to sympathize with his loss by telephone. Soon they would be together forever, the subterfuge and deceit ended. It was nearly time to let the world into their secret. The night before the engagement announcement, which took place on February 24, 1981, she packed a bag, hugged her loyal friends and left Coleherne Court forever. She had an armed Scotland Yard bodyguard for company, Chief Inspector Paul Officer, a philosophical policeman who is fascinated by runes, mysticism and the after-world. As she prepared to say goodbye to her private life, he told her: “I just want you to know that this is the last night of freedom in your life so make the most of it.” Those words stopped her in her tracks. “They felt like a sword through my heart.
Andrew Morton (Diana: Her True Story in Her Own Words)
Ken Wharfe In 1987, Ken Wharfe was appointed a personal protection officer to Diana. In charge of the Princess’s around-the-clock security at home and abroad, in public and in private, Ken Wharfe became a close friend and loyal confidant who shared her most private moments. After Diana’s death, Inspector Wharfe was honored by Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II at Buckingham Palace and made a Member of the Victorian Order, a personal gift of the sovereign for his loyal service to her family. His book, Diana: Closely Guarded Secret, is a Sunday Times and New York Times bestseller. He is a regular contributor with the BBC, ITN, Sky News, NBC, CBS, and CNN, participating in numerous outside broadcasts and documentaries for BBC--Newsnight, Channel 4 News, Channel 5 News, News 24, and GMTV. My memory of Diana is not her at an official function, dazzling with her looks and clothes and the warmth of her manner, or even of her offering comfort among the sick, the poor, and the dispossessed. What I remember best is a young woman taking a walk in a beautiful place, unrecognized, carefree, and happy. Diana increasingly craved privacy, a chance “to be normal,” to have the opportunity to do what, in her words, “ordinary people” do every day of their lives--go shopping, see friends, go on holiday, and so on--away from the formality and rituals of royal life. As someone responsible for her security, yet understanding her frustration, I was sympathetic. So when in the spring of the year in which she would finally be separated from her husband, Prince Charles, she yet again raised the suggestion of being able to take a walk by herself, I agreed that such a simple idea could be realized. Much of my childhood had been spent on the Isle of Purbeck in Dorset, a county in southern England approximately 120 miles from London; I remembered the wonderful sandy beaches of Studland Bay, on the approach to Poole Harbour. The idea of walking alone on miles of almost deserted sandy beach was something Diana had not even dared dream about. At this time she was receiving full twenty-four-hour protection, and it was at my discretion how many officers should be assigned to her protection. “How will you manage it, Ken? What about the backup?” she asked. I explained that this venture would require us to trust each other, and she looked at me for a moment and nodded her agreement. And so, early one morning less than a week later, we left Kensington Palace and drove to the Sandbanks ferry at Poole in an ordinary saloon car. As we gazed at the coastline from the shabby viewing deck of the vintage chain ferry, Diana’s excitement was obvious, yet not one of the other passengers recognized her. But then, no one would have expected the most photographed woman in the world to be aboard the Studland chain ferry on a sunny spring morning in May. As the ferry docked after its short journey, we climbed back into the car and then, once the ramp had been lowered, drove off in a line of cars and service trucks heading for Studland and Swanage. Diana was driving, and I asked her to stop in a sand-covered area about half a mile from the ferry landing point. We left the car and walked a short distance across a wooded bridge that spanned a reed bed to the deserted beach of Shell Bay. Her simple pleasure at being somewhere with no one, apart from me, knowing her whereabouts was touching to see. Diana looked out toward the Isle of Wight, anxious by now to set off on her walk to the Old Harry Rocks at the western extremity of Studland Bay. I gave her a personal two-way radio and a sketch map of the shoreline she could expect to see, indicating a landmark near some beach huts at the far end of the bay, a tavern or pub, called the Bankes Arms, where I would meet her.
Larry King (The People's Princess: Cherished Memories of Diana, Princess of Wales, from Those Who Knew Her Best)
Ken Wharfe In 1987, Ken Wharfe was appointed a personal protection officer to Diana. In charge of the Princess’s around-the-clock security at home and abroad, in public and in private, Ken Wharfe became a close friend and loyal confidant who shared her most private moments. After Diana’s death, Inspector Wharfe was honored by Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II at Buckingham Palace and made a Member of the Victorian Order, a personal gift of the sovereign for his loyal service to her family. His book, Diana: Closely Guarded Secret, is a Sunday Times and New York Times bestseller. He is a regular contributor with the BBC, ITN, Sky News, NBC, CBS, and CNN, participating in numerous outside broadcasts and documentaries for BBC--Newsnight, Channel 4 News, Channel 5 News, News 24, and GMTV. And so, early one morning less than a week later, we left Kensington Palace and drove to the Sandbanks ferry at Poole in an ordinary saloon car. As we gazed at the coastline from the shabby viewing deck of the vintage chain ferry, Diana’s excitement was obvious, yet not one of the other passengers recognized her. But then, no one would have expected the most photographed woman in the world to be aboard the Studland chain ferry on a sunny spring morning in May. As the ferry docked after its short journey, we climbed back into the car and then, once the ramp had been lowered, drove off in a line of cars and service trucks heading for Studland and Swanage. Diana was driving, and I asked her to stop in a sand-covered area about half a mile from the ferry landing point. We left the car and walked a short distance across a wooded bridge that spanned a reed bed to the deserted beach of Shell Bay. Her simple pleasure at being somewhere with no one, apart from me, knowing her whereabouts was touching to see. Diana looked out toward the Isle of Wight, anxious by now to set off on her walk to the Old Harry Rocks at the western extremity of Studland Bay. I gave her a personal two-way radio and a sketch map of the shoreline she could expect to see, indicating a landmark near some beach huts at the far end of the bay, a tavern or pub, called the Bankes Arms, where I would meet her. She set off at once, a tall figure clad in a pair of blue denim jeans, a dark-blue suede jacket, and a soft scarf wrapped loosely around her face to protect her from the chilling, easterly spring wind. I stood and watched as she slowly dwindled in the distance, her head held high, alone apart from busy oyster catchers that followed her along the water’s edge. It was a strange sensation watching her walking away by herself, with no bodyguards following at a discreet distance. What were my responsibilities here? I kept thinking. Yet I knew this area well, and not once did I feel uneasy. I had made this decision--not one of my colleagues knew. Senior officers at Scotland Yard would most certainly have boycotted the idea had I been foolish enough to give them advance notice of what the Princess and I were up to.
Larry King (The People's Princess: Cherished Memories of Diana, Princess of Wales, from Those Who Knew Her Best)
Ken Wharfe In 1987, Ken Wharfe was appointed a personal protection officer to Diana. In charge of the Princess’s around-the-clock security at home and abroad, in public and in private, Ken Wharfe became a close friend and loyal confidant who shared her most private moments. After Diana’s death, Inspector Wharfe was honored by Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II at Buckingham Palace and made a Member of the Victorian Order, a personal gift of the sovereign for his loyal service to her family. His book, Diana: Closely Guarded Secret, is a Sunday Times and New York Times bestseller. He is a regular contributor with the BBC, ITN, Sky News, NBC, CBS, and CNN, participating in numerous outside broadcasts and documentaries for BBC--Newsnight, Channel 4 News, Channel 5 News, News 24, and GMTV. Diana looked out toward the Isle of Wight, anxious by now to set off on her walk to the Old Harry Rocks at the western extremity of Studland Bay. I gave her a personal two-way radio and a sketch map of the shoreline she could expect to see, indicating a landmark near some beach huts at the far end of the bay, a tavern or pub, called the Bankes Arms, where I would meet her. She set off at once, a tall figure clad in a pair of blue denim jeans, a dark-blue suede jacket, and a soft scarf wrapped loosely around her face to protect her from the chilling, easterly spring wind. I stood and watched as she slowly dwindled in the distance, her head held high, alone apart from busy oyster catchers that followed her along the water’s edge.
Larry King (The People's Princess: Cherished Memories of Diana, Princess of Wales, from Those Who Knew Her Best)
Ken Wharfe In 1987, Ken Wharfe was appointed a personal protection officer to Diana. In charge of the Princess’s around-the-clock security at home and abroad, in public and in private, Ken Wharfe became a close friend and loyal confidant who shared her most private moments. After Diana’s death, Inspector Wharfe was honored by Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II at Buckingham Palace and made a Member of the Victorian Order, a personal gift of the sovereign for his loyal service to her family. His book, Diana: Closely Guarded Secret, is a Sunday Times and New York Times bestseller. He is a regular contributor with the BBC, ITN, Sky News, NBC, CBS, and CNN, participating in numerous outside broadcasts and documentaries for BBC--Newsnight, Channel 4 News, Channel 5 News, News 24, and GMTV. It was a strange sensation watching her walking away by herself, with no bodyguards following at a discreet distance. What were my responsibilities here? I kept thinking. Yet I knew this area well, and not once did I feel uneasy. I had made this decision--not one of my colleagues knew. Senior officers at Scotland Yard would most certainly have boycotted the idea had I been foolish enough to give them advance notice of what the Princess and I were up to. Before Diana disappeared from sight, I called her on the radio. Her voice was bright and lively, and I knew instinctively that she was happy, and safe. I walked back to the car and drove slowly along the only road that runs adjacent to the bay, with heath land and then the sea to my left and the waters of Poole Harbour running up toward Wareham, a small market town, to my right. Within a matter of minutes, I was turning into the car park of the Bankes Arms, a fine old pub that overlooks the bay. I left the car and strolled down to the beach, where I sat on an old wall in the bright sunshine. The beach huts were locked, and there was no sign of life. To my right I could see the Old Harry Rocks--three tall pinnacles of chalk standing in the sea, all that remains, at the landward end, of a ridge that once ran due east to the Isle of Wight. Like the Princess, I, too, just wanted to carry on walking. Suddenly, my radio crackled into life: “Ken, it’s me--can you hear me?” I fumbled in the large pockets of my old jacket, grabbed the radio, and said, “Yes. How is it going?” “Ken, this is amazing, I can’t believe it,” she said, sounding truly happy. Genuinely pleased for her, I hesitated before replying, but before I could speak she called again, this time with that characteristic mischievous giggle in her voice. “You never told me about the nudist colony!” she yelled, and laughed raucously over the radio. I laughed, too--although what I actually thought was “Uh-oh!” But judging from her remarks, whatever she had seen had made her laugh. At this point, I decided to walk toward her, after a few minutes seeing her distinctive figure walking along the water’s edge toward me. Two dogs had joined her and she was throwing sticks into the sea for them to retrieve; there were no crowd barriers, no servants, no police, apart from me, and no overattentive officials. Not a single person had recognized her. For once, everything for the Princess was “normal.” During the seven years I had worked for her, this was an extraordinary moment, one I shall never forget.
Larry King (The People's Princess: Cherished Memories of Diana, Princess of Wales, from Those Who Knew Her Best)
As Lynley watched her, he thought how ironic it was that he had come to depend upon having Havers as his partner. Initially he had believed that no one could possibly be less likely to suit him. She was prickly, argumentative, easily given to anger, and bitterly aware of the enormous gap that existed between them, an impassable chasm created by birth, by class, by money, by experience. They could not have been more antithetical, Havers struggling with a fierce determination to rise out of a working-class neighbourhood in a grimy suburb of London while he moved effortlessly from his home in Cornwall to his town house in Belgravia to his office in New Scotland Yard. But their differences went far beyond mere background. Their perceptions of life and humanity occupied two opposite ends of the spectrum as well. Hers was ruthless, without sympathy, suspicious of motives, and based on distrust of a world that had given her nothing. His was laced with compassion, rich with understanding, and based almost entirely upon a guilt that insisted he reach out, learn, expiate, rescue, make amends. He smiled at the thought that Superintendent Webberly had been absolutely right to put them together, to insist they remain in partnership even at moments when Lynley believed it was an impossible situation that could only grow worse.
Elizabeth George (Well-Schooled in Murder (Inspector Lynley, #3))
At Christmas homes were full of the people there and people not there.
Louise Penny (A Fatal Grace (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache, #2))
Homes, Gamache knew, were a self-portrait. A person’s choice of color, furnishing, pictures. Every touch revealed the individual. God, or the Devil, was in the details. And so was the human.
Louise Penny (Still Life (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #1))
He sailed through the crowd, through the front of the small church, and found himself in the gloom inside. It always struck Gamache as paradoxical that churches were gloomy. Coming in from the sunshine it took a minute or so to adjust. And even then, to Gamache, it never came close to feeling like home. Churches were either great cavernous tributes not so much to God as the wealth and privilege of the community, or they were austere, cold tributes to the ecstasy of refusal.
Louise Penny (Still Life (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #1))
At Christmas homes were full of the people there and the people not there.
Louise Penny (A Fatal Grace (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache, #2))
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Twenty two year old Connie Jones, who had boarded in the home of charismatic Methodist and pacifist Ormond Burton, was a member of the No More War movement and the Christian Pacifist Society. She first attended the Friday night public meetings at which the pacifists argued their case in 1941. She stepped onto the podium, stating, "the Lord Jesus Christ tells us to love one another," and was promptly arrested by Wellington's chief inspector of police. Charged with obstruction under the Emergency Regulations, she was sentenced to three months' hard labour with harsh conditions at the Point Halswell Reformatory - an experience that did nothing to dampen her commitment to pacifism.
Barbara Brookes (A History of New Zealand Women)