Instinct is a marvelous thing. It can neither be explained nor ignored.

I live now on borrowed time, waiting in the anteroom for the summons that will inevitably come. And then - I go on to the next thing, whatever it is. One doesn't, luckily, have to bother about that.

They all fuss about me so, she said. They rub it in that I'm an old woman.

A very correct butler opened the door, with just the right amount of gloom in his bearing.

Where am I myself, the whole man, the true man? Where am I with God's mark upon my brow?' Did.

For somewhere," said Poirot to himself, indulging in an absolute riot of mixed metaphors, "there is in the hay a needle, and among the sleeping dogs there is one on whom I shall put my foot, and by shooting the arrows into the air, one will come down and hit a glass house!

Speech, so a wise old Frenchman said to me once, is an invention of man's to prevent him from thinking. It is also an infallible means of discovering that which he wishes to hide.