I have wanted . . . to commit a murder myself. I recognized this as the desire of the artist to express himself! . . . But-incongruous as it may seem to some-I was restrained and hampered by my innate sense of justice. The innocent must not suffer.

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

It is clear that the books owned the shop rather than the other way about. Everywhere they had run wild and taken possession of their habitat, breeding and multiplying, and clearly lacking any strong hand to keep them down.

The things young women read nowadays and profess to enjoy positively frighten me.

What an absurdity to go and bury oneself in South America, where they are always having revolutions.

I have often had occasion to notice how, where a direct question would fail to elicit a response, a false assumption brings instant information in the form of a contradiction.

You regard it as impossible that a sinner should be struck down by the wrath of God! I do not!