Quotes About Author

The weather was always the same—fine. No interesting variations. "The many-splendoured weather of an English day," she

She transferred her gaze to me. "You are his secretary, I suppose?" "Er—yes," I said doubtfully. "Can you write decent English?" "I hope so." "H'm—where did you go to school?" "Eton." "Then you can't.

It is difficult to know quite where to begin this story, but I have fixed my choice on a certain Wednesday at luncheon at the Vicarage.

You'd have been a holy terror if you'd taken to crime.

The mirror crack'd from side to side: 'The doom has come upon me,' cried the Lady of Shalott.

searched her bag for the ticket that would enable her to

Oh, yes. I've no doubt in my own mind that we have been invited here by a madman—probably a dangerous homicidal lunatic.

You console me a little, but only a little,' said Poirot.

That is the worst of Poirot. Order and Method are his gods. He goes so far as to attribute all his success to them.

but it is one of the great consolations in nature that a man, however unattractive, will find that he is attractive—to some woman.

other, stood there, looking hostile. "Can I see Colonel Pikeaway?

I had an idea that you would not. My little ideas, you know, they are very valuable to me.

I should have kept him to the end," said Mrs. Oliver. "In a book, I mean," she added apologetically. "Real life's a bit different," said Battle. "I know," said Mrs. Oliver. "Badly constructed.

She had a plan ready-made for a delightful morning of shopping. Not too much—to overtire herself.

I should have kept him to the end," said Mrs. Oliver. "In a book, I mean," she added apologetically. "Real life's a bit different," said Battle.

Going to a well-worn overcoat hanging on the back of the door, he took from the pocket a packet of cheap cigarettes and some matches.

manner. He was very apologetic. So early

Of course it is wicked,' I said briskly. 'There is nothing that you can tell me about people's minds that would astonish or surprise me.

Rhoda Dawes came out of Debenham's and stood meditatively upon the pavement.

As you are on the scene, it probably would be murder!" For a moment Poirot smiled.

Not that I approve of women in politics—St. Stephen's is ruined, absolutely ruined, nowadays. But woman in her own sphere can do wonders.

Mr. Satterthwaite sipped China tea from a Dresden cup, and ate a microscopic sandwich and chatted.

My dear," he said, "so many people are disgusting about so many things.

opened the door, gave him a gentle little propelling shove out of it.