Quotes from Agatha Christie

Subsiding on to his seat Mr. Blore thought to himself: He's nearer the day of judgment than I am! But there, as it happens, he was wrong….

It mightn't have been at all. It might be just some mentally disturbed nut who liked killing people and whose idea of playing with water is to push somebody's head under it and hold it there.

Um sonho. Um sonho apaixonante e sensual. E, depois do sonho, o despertar. Pareceu acontecer de modo bastante repentino. Como sair de um túnel direto para a luz.

For the stakes for which the guilty person was playing were enormous.

Men—" said Miss Williams, and stopped. As a rich property owner says "Bolsheviks"—as an earnest Communist says "Capitalists!"—as a good housewife says "Blackbeetles"—so did Miss Williams say "Men!

That's why you often find that the author of anonymous letters is the last person in the place to be suspected. Some quiet inoffensive little soul who apparently can't say Bo to a goose—all sweetness and Christian meekness on the outside—and seething with all the fury of hell underneath!

How many psychologists does one know to whom it might be said: Physician, heal thyself?

My God, I'm sick of answering questions. I've answered the police questions. I don't feel called upon to answer yours." Poirot said: "Mine is a very simple one. Only this.

Poirot said: "Who could have murdered him?" Japp said: "The answer to that is—almost anybody!

It is not so simple as it seems," he ended. "There is the desire for power and very often a strong inferiority complex.

Women were the devil when they got their knife into you.

His whole personality seemed to change. The handsome, vigorous young man turned into a rat-like creature with furtive eyes looking for a way of escape and finding none…

Burnt corks they use mostly—though 'tis messy getting it off again. Miss Cynthia was a Negress once, and, oh, the trouble she had.

Pilar—remember—nothing is so boring as devotion.

Her questions came with a kind of eagerness. The thought flashed across his mind that she must be very bored.

Of course I could give you advice, Jean, though I don't know why anyone ever wants advice. They never take it.

But me, I am scrupulously fair. I look always on both sides. Let us examine what occurred if Carol Boynton was innocent. She returns to the camp. She goes up to her stepmother and she finds her, shall we say, dead.

She paused for a moment, turning things over in her mind.

Well, you know, breakfast isn't always a chatty meal.

And all these girls with their make-up and their hair and their nails look so alike.

He's a zealous fellow, but zeal can't really take the place of brains.

My dear Caroline," I said. "There's no doubt at all about what the man's profession has been. He's a retired hairdresser. Look at that moustache of his." Caroline dissented. She said that if the man was a hairdresser, he would have wavy hair—not straight. All hairdressers did.

Why I do believe that's old Jane Marple. Thought she was dead years ago. Looks a hundred.

The typists might have been so many blackbeetles.