Anything seems commonplace, once explained.

Art in the blood is liable to take the strangest forms.

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

My name is Sherlock Holmes. It is my business to know what other people do not know.

The more we progress the more we tend to progress. We advance not in arithmetical but in geometrical progression. We draw compound interest on the whole capital of knowledge and virtue which has been accumulated since the dawning of time.

I never guess. It is a shocking habit destructive to the logical faculty.

The future was with Fate. The present was our own.