Beastly things, teeth. Give us trouble from the cradle to the grave.

If you are to be Hercule Poirot, you must think of everything.

There hung about her the restrained energy of a whiplash.

One does see so much evil in a village,' murmured Miss Marple in an explanatory voice.

When the fact doesn't meet the theory then let go the theory.

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.

We owe most of our great inventions and most of the achievements of genius to idleness either enforced or voluntary.