One knows so little. When one knows more it is too late.

One of the oddest things in life, as we all know, is the way that when you have heard a thing mentioned, within twenty-four hours you nearly always come across it again.

Until one looks back on one's own past one fails to realise what an extraordinary view of the world a child has.

There hung about her the restrained energy of a whiplash.

It is ridiculous to set a detective story in New York City. New York City is itself a detective story.

I've always noticed that if you speak the truth in a rather silly way nobody believes you.

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