Poison has a certain appeal … It has not the crudeness of the revolver bullet or the blunt weapon.
Do you remember the Lady of Shalott? The mirror crack'd from side to side: ‘The doom has come upon me,' cried the Lady of Shalott. Well, that's what she looked like. People laugh at Tennyson nowadays, but the Lady of Shalott always thrilled me when I was young and it still does.
What I think is a different matter. Maybe I think some rather curious things—but until thinking's got you somewhere it's no use talking about it.
It is odd how, when you have a secret belief of your own which you do not wish to acknowledge, the voicing of it by someone else will rouse you to a fury of denial.
By Jove, Poirot,' I exclaimed, ‘did you see that young goddess?' Poirot.
Time, thought Bobby suddenly, was a very frightening thing.