Agatha Christie Quotes
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'I saw a particular personage and I threatened him - yes, Mademoiselle, I, Hercule Poirot, threatened him.' 'With the police?' 'No,' said Poirot drily, 'With the Press - a much more deadly weapon.'
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The crime is now logical and reasonable.
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From a distance he had the bland aspect of a philanthropist.
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They have, all of them, such wonderful good manners. Not taught good manners - the natural thing. I could never have believed till I came here that natural courtesy could be such a wonderful - such a positive thing.
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Freckles are so earnest and Scottish.
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An Englishman thinks first of his work - his job, he calls it - and then of his sport, and last - a good way last - of his wife.
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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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That was the worst of Dr Reilly. You never knew whether he was joking or not. He always said things in the same slow melancholy way - but half the time there was a twinkle underneath it.
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Tout de même, it is not necessary that he should be killed on the Orient Express. There are other places.
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Is it coding - or code breaking? Is it like Deborah’s job? Do be careful, Tommy, people go queer doing that and can’t sleep and walk about all night groaning and repeating 978345286 or something like that and finally have nervous breakdowns and go into homes.
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I don't pretend to be an author or to know anything about writing. I'm doing this simply because Dr Reilly asked me to, and somehow when Dr Reilly asks you to do a thing you don't like to refuse.
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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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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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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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I can imagine anything! That's the trouble with me. I can imagine things now - this minute. I could even make them sound all right, but of course none of them would be true.
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Let us think only of the good days that are to come.
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Understand this, I mean to arrive at the truth. The truth, however ugly in itself, is always curious and beautiful to seekers after it.
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How averse human beings were ever to admit ignorance!
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Plymouth, Gwenda thought, as she moved forward obediently in the queu for Passports and Customs, was probably not the best of England.
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It is the misfortune of small, precise men always to hanker after large and flamboyant women.
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It would be difficult Bland thought, to forget Hercule Poirot, and this not entirely for complimentary reasons.
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Oh dear, I never realized what a terrible lot of explaining one has to do in a murder!
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'Tout de même,' said Poirot, 'since I cannot find anything, eh bien, then the logic falls out of the window.'