I say, Watson,’ he whispered, ‘would you be afraid to sleep in the same room as a lunatic, a man with softening of the brain, an idiot whose mind has lost its grip?’ ‘Not in the least,’ I answered in astonishment. ‘Ah, that’s lucky,’ he said, and not another word would he utter that night.

When a doctor does go wrong he is the first of criminals. He has nerve and he has knowledge.

I consider that a man's brain originally is like a little empty attic, and you have to stock it with such furniture as you choose.

The great bell of Beaulieu was ringing. Far away through the forest might be heard its musical clangor and swell.

Critics kind never mind! Critics flatter no matter! Critics blame all the same! Do your best damn the rest!

Beyond the obvious facts that he has at some time done manual labour, that he takes snuff, that he is a Freemason, that he has been in China, and that he has done a considerable amount of writing lately, I can deduce nothing else.

A study in scarlet, eh? Why shouldn't we use a little art jargon? There's the scarlet thread of murder running through the colourless skein of life, and our duty is to unravel it, and isolate it, and expose every inch of it.