It wouldn't make for sanity would it, living with the devil.

I could not ask forgiveness for something I had not done. As scapegoat, I could only bear the fault.

When she smiled it was as though she embraced the world.

What about the hero of The House on the Strand? What did it mean when he dropped the telephone at the end of the book? I don't really know, but I rather think he was going to be paralysed for life. Don't you?

Dead men tell no tales, Mary.

A familiar name on its own, however, does not carry its bearer far unless the talent is there, and the will to work.

We can never go back again, that much is certain. The past is still close to us. The things we have tried to forget and put behind us would stir again, and that sense of fear, of furtive unrest, struggling at length to blind unreasoning panic - now mercifully stilled, thank God - might in some manner unforeseen become a living companion as it had before.