His sanguine spirit turns every firefly into a star.

Evil indeed is the man who has not one woman to mourn him.

I am engaged in answering that Italian buffoon, Mazotti, whose views upon the larval development of the tropical termites have excited my derision and contempt . . .

Have you tried to drive a harpoon through a body? No? Tut, tut, my dear sir, you must really pay attention to these details.

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

Eliminate all other factors, and the one which remains must be the truth.

I am not the law, but I represent justice so far as my feeble powers go.