Unless you are good at guessing, it is not much use being a detective.
Very unfortunately, she had no husband. She had never had a husband, and therefore did not kill a husband.
A great many men are mad, and no one knows it. They do not know it themselves.
And so could you know it if you would only use the brains the good God has given you. Sometimes I really am tempted to believe that by inadvertence, He passed you by.
Elephants can remember, but we are human beings and mercifully human beings can forget.
A woman who doesn’t lie is a woman without imagination and without sympathy.
One of the oddest things in life, as we all know, is the way that when you have heard a thing mentioned, within twenty-four hours you nearly always come across it again.
It’s like all those quiet people, when they do lose their tempers they lose them with a vengeance.
Sometimes I feel sure he is as mad as a hatter and then, just as he is at his maddest, I find there is a method in his madness.
Hasting – There are times when it is one’s duty to assert oneself.
He laughs best who laughs at the end.
One never quite allows for the moron in our midst.
I have no pity for myself either. So let it be Veronal. But I wish Hercule Poirot had never retired from work and come here to grow vegetable marrows.
Oh, I’m not afraid of death! What have I got to live for after all? I suppose you believe it’s very wrong to kill a person who has injured you-even if they’ve taken away everything you had in the world?
I always think loyalty’s such a tiresome virtue.
She was a lucky woman who had established a happy knack of writing what quite a lot of people wanted to read.
In the midst of life, we are in death.
He was very much a man of moods, possibly owing to what is styled the artistic temperment. I have never seen, myself, why the possession of artistic ability should be supposed to excuse a man from a decent exercise of self-control.
I know there’s a proverb which that says ‘To err is human,’ but a human error is nothing to what a computer can do if it tries.
Women can accept the fact that a man is a rotter, a swindler, a drug taker, a confirmed liar, and a general swine, without batting an eyelash, and without its impairing their affection for the brute in the least. Women are wonderful realists.