I never guess. It is a shocking habit destructive to the logical faculty.

There's an east wind coming all the same, such a wind as never blew on England yet. It will be cold and bitter, Watson, and a good many of us may wither before its blast. But it's God's own wind none the less and a cleaner, better stronger land will lie in the sunshine when the storm has cleared.

The love of books is among the choicest gifts of the gods.

The weak man becomes strong when he has nothing, for then only can he feel the wild, mad thrill of despair.

How wise and how merciful is that provision of nature by which his earthly anchor is usually loosened by many little imperceptible tugs, until his consciousness has drifted out of its untenable earthly harbor into the great sea beyond!

Mediocrity knows nothing higher than itself, but talent instantly recognizes genius.

“How ever did you see that?” “Because I looked for it.”