The Night Is A Strawberry.

Fear Lives In The Head. And Courage Lives In The Heart. The Job Is To Get From One To The Other.

The Leaves Had Fallen From The Trees And Lay Crisp And Crackling Beneath His Feet. Picking One Up He Marveled, Not For The First Time, At The Perfection Of Nature Where Leaves Were Most Beautiful At The Very End Of Their Lives.

Her Voice Was Slightly Accented But Her French Was Perfect. Someone Who'd Not Just Learned The Language But Loved It. And It Showed With Every Syllable. Gamache Knew It Was Impossible To Split Language From Culture. That Without One The Other Withered. To Love The Language Was To Respect The Culture.

Aid Workers, When Handing Out Food To Starving People, Quickly Learn That The People Fighting For It At The Front Are The People Who Need It Least. It's The People Sitting Quietly At The Back, Too Weak To Fight, Who Need It The Most. And So Too With Tragedy.

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