Armand Gamache knew no good ever came from putting up walls. What people mistook for safety was in fact captivity. And few things thrived in captivity.
“It’s remarkable. Beautiful.” He turned to Gamache then. “Unless, of course, it’s a ruse.” “What do you mean?” asked Gamache. “Maybe it isn’t hope at all,” said Marois, “but merely a trick of the light.”
But looking back, Clara knew that the fissure had widened. Some cracks let the light in. Some let the darkness out. She’d had a brief glance at what was inside Lillian. And it wasn’t nice.
light. That’s what this is about, Inspector. Bringing all the terrible stuff up from where it’s hiding.” “Just because you can see it,” Beauvoir persisted, “doesn’t make it go away.” “True, but until you see it you haven’t a hope.”