Everything comes in circles. [...] The old wheel turns, and the same spoke comes up. It's all been done before, and will be again.

The sky was of the deepest blue, with a few white, fleecy clouds drifting lazily across it, and the air was filled with the low drone of insects or with a sudden sharper note as bee or bluefly shot past with its quivering, long-drawn hum, like an insect tuning-fork.

Keep your revolver near you night and day, and never relax your precautions.

All right, Watson. Don’t look so scared,” he muttered in a very weak voice. “It’s not as bad as it seems.” “Thank God for that!” “I’m a bit of a single-stick expert, as you know. I took most of them on my guard. It was the second man that was too much for me.” “What can I do, Holmes? Of course, it was that damned fellow who set them on. I’ll go and thrash the hide off him if you give the word.” “Good old Watson!(...)

It is quite a three-pipe problem.

Data!data!data!" he cried impatiently. "I can't make bricks without clay.

The world is big enough for us. No ghosts need apply.