Many writers, good writers who ought to know better, focus so tightly on the structure demanded by a crime story that they lose track of the fact that they are writing a novel. Accusations of both sen...
Mrs Porter, you see before you the product of an outmoded educational system, which is based upon beating Latin and Greek into a boy’s mind before he has a chance to meet the penny-dreadful.
Ma'alesh; no matter; never mind; what can you do but accept things as they are? Ma'alesh, your pot overturned in the fire; ma'alesh, your prize mare died; ma'alesh, you lost all your possessions and h...
You envy me my educated tastes.
Interpreting the Bible without training is a bit like finding a specific address in a foreign city with neither map nor knowledge of the language. You might stumble upon the right answer, but in the m...
Guessing is a weakness brought on by indolence and should never be confused with intuition.
I did not think of myself as a detective; I was a student of theology, and I was to spend my life in exploration, not of the darker crannies of human misbehaviour, but of the heights of human speculat...
To continue with the analogy, my perspective, my brush technique, my use of colour and shade, are all entirely different from his. The subject is essentially the same; it is the eyes and the hands of...
First and foremost a pragmatist, he had no time for the interference of unnecessary standards.
I felt instantly at home, and wanted only to dismiss Alistair, along with the rest of Justice Hall, that I might have a closer look at the shelves.I had to content myself instead with a strolling peru...
‘Guys’? Doucet asked. I saw three members of l’Académie. Um, Provost? Prévost? That’s it. I’ll contact him. She also spent some time with Josephine Baker, Doucet offered.
But a topee is not a turban, and I had been my teacher's pupil before I became my husband's wife, learning to my bones that half a disguise is none at all...The moment my short-cropped, pomade-sleek,...
Lady Molly, perhaps?
He said nothing. Very sarcastically.
Why the devil was my husband positively grinning - and with what looked remarkably like relief?
I told you it was a backwoods. They probably still practice corn sacrifice.
A spray of burning tobacco flew into the air, followed by furious slaps and the stench of scorched wool. Once Holmes was sure he was not about to go up in flames, he turned to the driver in a fury.
The water stretched out as far as the eye could see in an expanse of gentle grey-blue swells broken only by the occasional white-capped wavelet and the line of the ship’s passage, unrolling die-straig...
Moments of pure relaxation were rare for me. There was always the nagging of books unread, work undone, time a-wasting.
Using insult instead of argument is the sign of a small mind.
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