The human face is, after all, nothing more nor less than a mask.

Truth, however bitter, can be accepted, and woven into a design for living.

Very unfortunately, she had no husband. She had never had a husband, and therefore did not kill a husband.

You're shocked, Mr. Burton, at hearing what our gossiping little town thinks. I can tell you this - they always think the worst!

Ah, but life is like that! It does not permit you to arrange and order it as you will. It will not permit you to escape emotion, to live by the intellect and by reason! You cannot say, 'I will feel so much and no more.' Life, Mr. Welman, whatever else it is, is not reasonable. [Hercule Poirot]

Everybody always knows something," said Adam, "even if it's something they don't know they know.

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.