I suppose I shall have to compound a felony as usual.

This looks like one of those unwelcome social summonses which call upon a man either to be bored or to lie.

There is a danger there - a very real danger to humanity. Consider, Watson, that the material, the sensual, the worldly would all prolong their worthless lives. The spiritual would not avoid the call to something higher. It would be the survival of the least fit. What sort of cesspool may not our poor world become?

It is a mistake to confound strangeness with mystery.

Dogs don't make mistakes.

He is not a bad fellow, though an absolute imbecile in his profession. He has one positive virtue. He is as brave as a bulldog and as tenacious as a lobster if he gets his claws upon anyone.

It is, I admit, mere imagination; but how often is imagination the mother of truth?