A fine horse or a beautiful woman, I cannot look at them unmoved, even now when seventy winters have chilled my blood.

The fair sex is your department.

I know, my dear Watson, that you share my love of all that is bizarre and outside the conventions and humdrum routine of daily life.

The ways of fate are indeed hard to understand. If there is not some compensation hereafter, then the world is a cruel jest.

He seems to have declared war on the King’s English as well as on the English king.

You never tire of the moor. You cannot think the wonderful secrets which it contains. It is so vast, and so barren, and so mysterious.

When the impossible has been eliminated, all that remains no matter how improbable is possible.