Poirot," I said. "I have been thinking." "An admirable exercise my friend. Continue it.

They tried to be too clever---and that was their undoing.

Surfing is like that. You are either vigorously cursing or else you are idiotically pleased with yourself.

fiction is founded on truth....unless things did happen,people couldn't think of them.

Many years ago, when I was once saying sadly to Max it was a pity I couldn't have taken up archaeology when I was a girl, so as to be more knowledgeable on the subject, he said, 'Don't you realize that at this moment you know more about prehistoric pottery than any woman in England?'

Good advice is always certain to be ignored, but that's no reason not to give it.

I looked at her. Sheila was my girl--the girl I wanted--and wanted for keeps. But it wasn't any use having illusions about her. Sheila was a liar and probably always would be a liar. It was her way of fighting for survival--the quick easy glib denial. It was a child's weapon--and she'd probably never got out of using it. If I wanted Sheila, I must accept her as she was--be at hand to prop up the weak places. We've all got our weak places. Mine were different from Sheila's, but they were there.