But No Artist, I Now Realize, Can

To Count - Really And Truly To Count - A Woman Must Have Goodness Or Brains.

Is There Ever Any Particular Spot Where One Can Put One's Finger And Say, "it All Began That Day, At Such A Time And Such A Place, With Such An Incident?

You're Shocked, Mr. Burton, At Hearing What Our Gossiping Little Town Thinks. I Can Tell You This - They Always Think The Worst!

You Gave Too Much Rein To Your Imagination. Imagination Is A Good Servant, And A Bad Master. The Simplest Explanation Is Always The Most Likely.

Vous Eprouves Trop D'emotion, Hastings, It Affects Your Hands And Your Wits. Is That A Way To Fold A Coat? And Regard What You Have Done To My Pyjamas. If The Hairwash Breaks What Will Befall Them?' 'good Heavens, Poirot,' I Cried, 'this Is A Matter Of Life And Death. What Does It Matter What Happens To Our Clothes?' 'you Have No Sense Of Proportion Hastings. We Cannot Catch A Train Earlier Than The Time That It Leaves, And To Ruin One's Clothes Will Not Be The Least Helpful In Preventing A Murder.