There certainly does seem a possibility that the detective story will come to an end, simply because the public will have learnt all the tricks.

Once lay down the rule that the job comes first and you throw that job open to every individual, man or woman, fat or thin, tall or short, ugly or beautiful, who is able to do that job better than the rest of the world.

Death seems to provide the minds of the Anglo-Saxon race with a greater fund of amusement than any other single subject.

I have never yet heard any middle-aged man or woman who worked with his or her brains express any regret for the passing of youth.

Those who make some other person their job... are dangerous.

There's truth as far as you knows it; and there's truth as far as you're asked for it. But they don't represent the whole truth - not necessarily.

You're thinking that people don't keep up old jealousies for twenty years or so. Perhaps not. Not just primitive, brute jealousy. That means a word and a blow. But the thing that rankles is hurt vanity. That sticks. Humiliation. And we've all got a sore spot we don't like to have touched.