Impossibility is a log thrown on the fires of love.

What does it mean, to lose one's mind? Where does it go? If a man is out of his mind, where is he? What is insane when the world is mad by contrast?

I became, in other words, more like Holmes than the man himself: brilliant, driven to a point of obsession, careless of myself, mindless of others, but without the passion and the deep-down, inbred love for the good in humanity that was the basis of his entire career. He loved the humanity that could not understand or fully accept him; I, in the midst of the same human race, became a thinking machine.

The last dog I had was an Irish wolfhound - now that is a dog. Rather spoils a person for a lesser canine, that is, anything under a hundredweight.

Blogs are the main exception I make in my aversion to complex machinery.

That's what tears are for, you know, to wash away the fear and cool the hate.

Pride is a sweetmeat, to be savoured in small pieces; it makes for a poor feast.