The sense of smell is the hair-trigger of memory.

It does not do to neglect the gods of a place, whoever they may be. In the end, they are all one.

the difficult art I was attempting had, indeed a powerful fascination, before which the past faded, the future receded, and the whole of experience narrowed down to this stretch of glancing, glimmering water, and the fly I was trying to cast across it.

The mills of God work like lightning compared with the law.

Folks will say anything, and next time round they'll believe it.

Every life has a death, and every light a shadow. Be content to stand in the light, and let the shadow fall where it will.

I'm very much to blame for not seeing it before, but who on earth goes about suspecting an impossible outlandish thing like murder? That's something that happens in books, not among people you know.