I Know, My Dear Watson, That You

The Husband Was A Teetotaller, There Was No Other Woman, And The Conduct Complained Of Was That He Had Drifted Into The Habit Of Winding Up Every Meal By Taking Out His False Teeth And Hurling Them At His Wife.

There Is No Scent So Pleasant To My Nostrils As That Faint, Subtle Reek Which Comes From An Ancient Book.

When You Have One Of The First Brains Of Europe Up Against You, And All The Powers Of Darkness At His Back, There Are Infinite Possibilities.

I Have Seen Too Much Not To Know That The Impression Of A Woman May Be More Valuable Than The Conclusion Of An Analytical Reasoner.

I Consider That A Man's Brain Originally Is Like A Little Empty Attic, And You Have To Stock It With Such Furniture As You Choose.