One Place Is Very Like Another.

There Is Something About Conscious Tact That Is Very Irritating.

I, Myself, Was Always Recognized . . . As The “slow One” In The Family. It Was Quite True, And I Knew It And Accepted It. Writing And Spelling Were Always Terribly Difficult For Me. My Letters Were Without Originality. I Was . . . An Extraordinarily Bad Speller And Have Remained So Until This Day.

There Is No Detective In England Equal To A Spinster Lady Of Uncertain Age With Plenty Of Time On Her Hands.

From An Early Age I Knew Very Strongly The Lust To Kill.

If You Are To Be Hercule Poirot, You Must Think Of Everything.