Quotes from Agatha Christie

Next year, maybe, she will look back on the experience and tell her friends that it was "fun"; but oh, the pity of it, not to gather the flowers of the Present, to let them wither, and never pluck them till they are dried wrecks of the Past!

And families now, families who have been separated throughout the year, assemble once more together. Now under these conditions, my friend, you must admit that there will occur a great amount of strain. People who do not feel amiable are putting great pressure on themselves to appear amiable! There is at Christmastime a great deal of hypocrisy, honourable hypocrisy, hypocrisy undertaken pour le bon motif, c'est entendu, but nevertheless

I think you're both behaving like a pair of idiots.

People take you at your own valuation.

But to everything that happens there has to be a past. A past which is by now incorporated in today, but which existed yesterday or last month or last year. The present is nearly always rooted in the past.

What was one to do, thought Adela, with someone who didn't talk gardening or dogs - those standbys of rural conversation.

Mrs. Baker's social manner was almost robotlike in its perfection. All her comments and remarks were natural, normal, everyday currency, but one had a suspicion that the whole thing was like an actor playing a part for perhaps the seven hundredth time. It was an automatic performance, completely divorced from what Mrs. Baker might really have been thinking or feeling.

The true Western spirit of hustle," said Poirot with a smile.

The amount of women you hear say, "If Donald—or Arthur—or whatever his name was—had only lived." And I sometimes think but if he had, he'd have been a stout, unromantic, short-tempered, middle-aged husband as likely as not.

Imagination is a good servant and a bad master. The simplest explanation is always the most likely.

A child says 'Thank God for my good dinner'. What can I say at seventy-five? 'Thank God for my good life, and for all the love that has been given to me.' Wallingford. October IIth 1965 SEARCHABLE TERMS Note: The pagination of this electronic edition does not match the edition from which it was created.

Philip Lombard, summing up the girl opposite in a mere flash of his quick moving eyes thought to himself:

Very difficult, mon ami. But as you know well, difficulties rejoice the heart of Hercule Poirot.

I think trees are much nicer than people, more restful.

I speak to you for you will understand. We bought that screen with more than money--with love. For love of it, because it was beautiful and unique, we went without other things, things we needed and missed. These other Chinese pieces my husband speaks of, those we should buy with money only, we should not pay away anything of ourselves.

I have always believed that a love of nature was essentially a healthy sign in a man.

A mother's love for her child is like nothing else in the world. It knows no law, no pity, it dares all things and crushes down remorselessly all that stands in its path.

But even then you have to reckon with a criminal's chief vice.' 'What is that?' ' Conceit. A criminal never believes that his crime can fail.

Mr Ratchett wanted to see the world. He was hampered by knowing no languages. I acted more as a courier than a secretary".

Don't hiss at me, Pagett," I said, drawing back a little, "and do control your breathing. Your idea is absurd. Why should they want to have a secret meeting in the middle of the night? If they'd anything to say to each other, they could hobnob over beef tea in a perfectly casual and natural manner.

Sabía que la secuela de las confidencias era la vergüenza

On my way home, I ran into Miss Hartnell and she detained me at least ten minutes, declaiming in her deep bass voice against the improvidence and ungratefulness of the lower classes. The crux of the matter seemed to be that The Poor did not want Miss Hartnell in their houses. My sympathies were entirely on their side.

You're apt to be done down if you speak nothing but good American.

The doctor's sister, who rejoiced in the singularly inappropriate name of Aimée, had all the positive assurance that her brother lacked.