"But the scent she longed for, and caught as she leaned into her husband, was sandalwood. It was more than his cologne, he seemed to exude it. It was how every season smelled. It was how love and stability and belonging smelled. It was the perfume of friendship and ease and peace."
"You asked what I count each evening and each morning. What I counted each day in prison while better men withered and died. Do you know the sums that I do?"
Gamache stood still, in case moving would scare this man off and he'd never have his answer. But he knew he needn't worry. This man was afraid of nothing.
"I count my blessings."