Not wi’ news like this. Brace yourself, Bridget, as the Irishman said to his missus by way of foreplay.
Wrote to me appealing
Oh, really, said Deborah brightly, you don’t look like the sort of man who reads anything.
Look for me by moonlight; Watch for me by moonlight; I’ll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way! —Alfred Noyes
Mourners
Agatha longed to forget about the whole thing and go home, go to bed and cuddle up to her cats.
You look as if you’ve crawled out of a young offenders’ institute. Go upstairs and wash that muck off,
He fished steadily, trying to fight down a dragging, aching sense of loss, wondering how one’s brain should know all the sensible answers while one’s emotions longed for the unattainable.
Although she far outranked Hamish, she had to wait patiently, because this was Lochdubh, where Hamish Macbeth was king.
She had not yet learned the hard lesson that women who love themselves too much are rarely loved by anyone else.
Well, murder comes before illegal hooch.
To see oneself as one really is—if one is ever unlucky enough to have that experience—is quite shattering. The veil of illusions and little vanities is rudely ripped aside.
Though the day of my destiny’s over, And the star of my fate has declined. —Lord Byron
The best laid schemes o’ mice and men,
The breeze sent sunny ripples dancing across the sea loch. The village of Lochdubh in Sutherland looked like a picture postcard with its row of small eighteenth-century whitewashed cottages facing the...
The wind cut like a knife as he climbed into the police Land Rover. As he held the wheel tightly against the buffeting of the wind and drove along the curving road out of the village, he realized that...
By the pricking of my thumbs, Something wicked this way comes. —William Shakespeare
Wickedness is a myth invented by good people to account for the curious attraction of others. —Oscar Wilde
When confronted with someone who appears to be in a perpetual state of outrage, it is tempting for other people to wind them up. Besides, I have always found the most vociferous guardians of morality...
Agatha’s last case had concerned a Sweeny Todd of a murderer over at Winter Parva.
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