A Good Novel Is A Good Novel,

What Haunted People Even, Perhaps Especially, On Their Deathbed? What Chased Them, Tortured Them And Brought Some Of Them To Their Knees? And [he] Thought He Had The Answer. Regret. Regret For Things Said, Things Done, And Things Not Done. Regret For The People They Might Have Been. And Failed To Be.

Or - Perhaps - I Should Just Worry About My Own Behavior And Let Others Be Who They Are.

To Be Silent. In Hopes Of Not Offending, In Hopes Of Being Accepted. But What Happened To People Who Never Spoke, Never Raised Their Voices? Kept Everything Inside? Gamache Knew What Happened. Everything They Swallowed, Every Word, Thought, Feeling Rattled Around Inside, Hollowing The Person Out. And Into That Chasm They Stuffed Their Words, Their Rage.

I Had To Learn Compassion. Had To Learn What It Felt Like To Hate, And To Forgive And To Love And Be Loved. And To Lose People Close To Me. Had To Feel Deep Loneliness And Sorrow. And Then I Could Write.

Things Are Strongest Where They're Broken.