I have heard, Mr. Holmes, that you can see deeply into the manifold wickedness of the human heart.

The Press, Watson, is a most valuable institution, if you only know how to use it.

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

How sweet the morning air is! ...How small we feel with our petty ambitions and strivings in the presence of the great elemental forces of Nature!

Man, or at least criminal man, has lost all enterprise and originality. As to my own little practice, it seems to be degenerating into an agency for recovering lost lead pencils and giving advice to young ladies from boarding-schools.

London, that great cesspool into which all the loungers and idlers of the Empire are irresistibly drained.

The man might have died in a fit; but then the jewels are missing," mused the Inspector, "Ha! I have a theory. These flashes come upon me at times... What do you think of this, Holmes? Sholto was, on his own confession, with his brother last night. The brother died in a fit, on which Sholto walked off the treasure! How's that?" "On which the dead man very considerately got up and locked the door on the inside," said Holmes.