I, myself, was always recognized . . . as the “slow one” in the family. It was quite true, and I knew it and accepted it. Writing and spelling were always terribly difficult for me. My letters were without originality. I was . . . an extraordinarily bad speller and have remained so until this day.

Wonderful things, horses. Never know what they will do, or won't do.

One place is very like another.

A weak man in a corner is more dangerous than a strong man.

The past is the father of the present.

If anyone is really determined to lend you a book, you never can get out of it!

As you yourself have said, what other explanation can there be?' Poirot stared straight ahead of him. 'That is what I ask myself,' he said. 'That is what I never cease to ask myself.