It's like all those quiet people, when they do lose their tempers they lose them with a vengeance.

Is there ever any particular spot where one can put one's finger and say, "It all began that day, at such a time and such a place, with such an incident?

Who is there who has not felt a sudden startled pang at reliving an old experience or feeling an old emotion?

An appreciative listener is always stimulating.

I have no pity for myself either. So let it be Veronal. But I wish Hercule Poirot had never retired from work and come here to grow vegetable marrows.

Exactly! It is absurd - improbable - it cannot be. So I myself have said. And yet, my friend, there it is! One cannot escape from the facts.

Sitting here with one's knitting, one just sees the facts. -"The Blood-Stained Pavement