Arthur Conan Doyle Quotes
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The love of books is among the choicest gifts of the gods.
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There is a danger there - a very real danger to humanity. Consider, Watson, that the material, the sensual, the worldly would all prolong their worthless lives. The spiritual would not avoid the call to something higher. It would be the survival of the least fit. What sort of cesspool may not our poor world become?
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I cannot live without brainwork. What else is there to live for...
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The unexpected has happened so continually in my life that it has ceased to deserve the name.
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It may have been a comedy, or it may have been a tragedy. It cost one man his reason, it cost me a blood-letting, and it cost yet another man the penalties of the law. Yet there was certainly an element of comedy. Well, you shall judge for yourselves.
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There are heroisms all round us waiting to be done.
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By the way, Doctor, I shall want your cooperation.' 'I shall be delighted.' 'You don't mind breaking the law?' 'Not in the least.' 'Nor running a chance of arrest?' 'Not in a good cause.' 'Oh, the cause is excellent!' 'Then I am your man.' 'I was sure that I might rely on you.
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The fair sex is your department.
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Do you know, Watson," said he, "that it is one of the curses of a mind with a turn like mine that I must look at everything with reference to my own special subject. You look at these scattered houses, and you are impressed by their beauty. I look at them, and the only thought which comes to me is a feeling of their isolation and of the impunity with which crime may be committed there.
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To his eyes all seemed beautiful, but to me a tinge of melancholy lay upon the countryside, which bore so clearly the mark of the waning year, Yellow leaves carpeted the lanes and fluttered down upon us as we passed, The rattle of our wheels died away as we drove through drifts of rotting vegetation--sad gifts, as it seemed to me, for Nature to throw before the carriage of the returning heir of the Baskervilles.
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There's no need for fiction in medicine,' remarks Foster... 'for the facts will always beat anything you fancy.
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Art in the blood is liable to take the strangest forms.
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Well, well, my dear fellow, be it so. We have shared this same room for some years, and it would be amusing if we ended by sharing the same cell.
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It's a wicked world, and when a clever man turns his brain to crime it is the worst of all.
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As a rule, the more bizarre a thing is, the less mysterious it proves to be.
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Holy Men! Holy Cabbages! Holy Bean Pods! What do they do but live and suck in sustenance and grow fat?
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I am an omnivorous reader with a strangely retentive memory for trifles.
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It is horrible, yet fascinating, this struggle between a set purpose and an utterly exhausted frame.
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We had got as far as this, when who should walk in but the gentleman himself, who had been drinking his beer in the taproom and had heard the whole conversation. Who was I? What did I want? What did I mean by asking questions? He had a fine flow of language, and his adjectives were very vigorous.
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The stage lost a fine actor, even as science lost an acute reasoner, when Holmes became a specialist in crime.
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The less experienced a doctor is, the higher are his notions of professional dignity . . .
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Every man finds his limitations, Mr. Holmes, but at least it cures us of the weakness of self-satisfaction.
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Anything is better than stagnation.
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It is the small men and not the great who hold their noses in the air.