Agatha Christie Quotes
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I have the little idea, my friend, that this is a crime very carefully planned and staged. It is a far-sighted, long-headed crime. It is not - how shall I express it? - a Latin crime. It is a crime that shows traces of a cool, resourceful, deliberate brain - I think an Anglo-Saxon brain.
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Last time I had my hands on you, you felt like a bird - struggling to escape. You'll never escape now...
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It merely confirmed in him his long-held belief that you should never believe anything anyone said without first checking it. Suspect everybody, had been for many years, if not his whole life, one of his first axioms.
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Elinor was still staring at this missive, her plucked brows drawn together in distaste, when the door opened. The maid announced, 'Mr Welman,' and Roddy came in.
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I have, perhaps, too professional a point of view where deaths are concerned. They are divided, in my mind, into two classes - deaths which are my affair and deaths which are not my affair - and though the latter class is infinitely more numerous - nevertheless whenever I come in contact with death I am like the dog who lifts his head and sniffs the scent.
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Never mind. I knew - that was the great thing.
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Work, Mr. Burton. There’s nothing like work, for men and women. The one unforgivable sin is idleness.
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The character of the victim has always something to do with his or her murder.
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This, Hastings, will be my last case. It will be, too, my most interesting case - and my most interesting criminal.
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'Yes. I like to see people get angry. I like it very much. But here in England they do not get angry like they do in Spain. In Spain they take out their knives and they curse and shout. In England they do nothing, just get very red in the face and shut up their mouths tight.'
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From a distance he had the bland aspect of a philanthropist.
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I did not deceive you, mon ami. At most, I permitted you to deceive yourself.
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'Here are my roses. Like ’em?' 'They’re beautiful,' said Laura politely. 'On the whole,' said Mr. Baldock, 'I prefer them to human beings. They don’t last as long for one thing.'
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I like to inquire into everything. Hercule Poirot is a good dog. The good dog follows the scent, and if, regrettably, there is no scent to follow, he noses around - seeking always something that is not very nice.
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Let us think only of the good days that are to come.
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'That’s all very well - they’re not educated, poor creatures.' 'No, and a good thing too. Education has devitalised the white races. Look at America - goes in for an orgy of culture. Simply disgusting.'
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'Tout de même,' said Poirot, 'since I cannot find anything, eh bien, then the logic falls out of the window.'
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She broke off, unable to find words to frame her struggling thoughts. What life would be with Hori, she did not know. In spite of his gentleness, in spite of his love for her, he would remain in some respects incalculable and incomprehensible. They would share moments of great beauty and richness together - but what of their common daily life?
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Like most Englishmen, he felt something strongly, and proceeded to muddle around until he had, somehow or other, cleared up the mess.
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'The English are very stupid,' said Poirot. 'They think that they can deceive anyone but that no one can deceive them.'
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'Is he then an unhappy man?' Poirot said: 'So unhappy that he has forgotten what happiness means. So unhappy that he does not know he is unhappy.' The nun said softly: 'Ah, a rich man…'
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I’m used to that. It often seems to me that’s all detective work is - wiping out your false starts and beginning again.
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Yes, a private investigator like my Wilbraham Rice. The public have taken very strongly to Wilbraham Rice. He bites his nails and eats a lot of bananas. I don’t know why I made him bite his nails to start with - it’s really rather disgusting - but there it is. He started by biting his nails, and now he has to do it in every single book. So monotonous.
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How averse human beings were ever to admit ignorance!