There's no reason why women shouldn't behave like rational beings," Simon asserted stolidly.
Poirot said drily: "Quite frequently they do. That is even more upsetting!
They all fuss about me so,” she said. “They rub it in that I’m an old woman.”
“And you don’t feel like one.”
“No, I don’t, Jane. In spite of all my aches and pains–and I’ve got plenty. Inside I go on feeling just like a chit like Gina. Perhaps everyone does. The glass shows them how old they are and they just don’t believe it.
Evil is not something superhuman, it's something less than human.
Agatha ChristieAuthors were shy, unsociable creatures, atoning for their lack of social aptitude by inventing their own companions and conversations.
Agatha ChristieTag: authors mystery social-life author whodunnit
I demand of you a thousand pardons, monsieur. I am without defence. For some months now I cultivate the marrows. This morning suddenly I enrage myself with these marrows. I send them to promenade themselves - alas! not only mentally but physically. I seize the biggest. I hurl him over the wall. Monsieur, I am ashamed. I prostrate myself.
Agatha ChristieTag: hercule-poirot
Los argumentos se me ocurren en los momentos más insospechados, como cuando voy caminando por la calle o me estoy probando un sombrero en una tienda y, de repente, una idea espléndida me viene a la cabeza.
Agatha ChristieUse that fluff of yours you call a brain.
Agatha ChristieTag: humor stupidity funny agatha-christie
The human face is, after all, nothing more nor less than a mask.
Agatha Christiei like living.
i have sometimes been wildly, dispairingly, acutely misrable, racked with sarrow, but threw it all i still know quite certainly that just to be alive is a grand thing.
Death, mademoiselle, unfortunately creates a prejudice. A prejudice in favour of the deceased. I heard what you said just now to my friend Hastings. ‘A nice bright girl with no men friends.’ You said that in mockery of the newspapers. And it is very true—when a young girl is dead, that is the kind of thing that is said. She was bright. She was happy. She was sweet-tempered. She had not a care in the world. She had no undesirable acquaintances. There is a great charity always to the dead. Do you know what I should like this minute? I should like to find someone who knew Elizabeth Barnard and who does not know she is dead! Then, perhaps, I should hear what is useful to me—the truth.
Agatha ChristieTag: death
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